Page 63 of Driving Me Mad (Sanity 1)

His expression is firm and annoyed. “Fine. I feel like shit. Happy now?”

“No, because you’re irritated that you’re having to tell me.”

“I’m not irritated with you,” he sighs. “I’m pissed at myself. I hate that it takes you calling me out for me to be honest with you. Some days, it’s harder than others. Today is a hard day. I want to tell you, I do—”

“Then do it,” I interrupt. I feel…I feel almost desperate for him to do this. Like if he does, then it seals our relationship. Like it’s the last big hurdle we have to go through before we can honestly say we can tackle anything that comes our way. Otherwise, we’re surely doomed. “We have this undetermined length of an airplane ride,” I add when all he does is stare at me.

Finally, he cracks a small smile. “Fine.” He rests his forehead against mine. “What do you want me to tell you?”

“If the situation were reversed, what would you want to hear from me?”

Trace seems to think about it. “Well, I should probably mention that I got a med change yesterday. I was fine earlier, but I don’t know,” he sighs. “I’m tired and I want my recliner. Or

lots of sex.”

I knew it! I knew he used sex to distract himself and make him feel better.

“Why are you smiling?” he asks curiously.

“You just proved something I was wondering about is all. Keep talking.”

“That’s all I got.” He must see my disappointment because he says, “I want to tell you about my mom once we get back home.”

“You don’t have to, not unless you really want to.”

“I do.”

“Okay.”

He kisses my forehead. “Will you be okay if I take a nap?”

“Yeah, go ahead.”

It was a small step, and I had to force his hand, but Trace could’ve chosen to shut down on me and he didn’t. I lean against him and close my eyes, repeating my life motto in my head.

Trust in Trace.

I can’t help but chuckle as the girls exit the cab with looks of fear on their faces. Needless to say, they aren’t fans of Vegas taxi drivers. They booked a hotel at one end of the strip, and they keep glancing around at all that’s happening as we make our way inside to the checkin desk. My nap on the plane didn’t last nearly enough as Brittany woke me up at some point because she was starting to get antsy and it was feeding her anxiety, despite the pills she took.

Exhausted. Bone-tired. Weary. Near death. Any way to describe how tired I am wouldn’t do it justice. I need a bed, stat. Emotionally and mentally, this is the worst time for me to be on a trip where I’m expected to do things, be social, and be in a good mood. To make matters worse, Brittany had to practically pull it out of me that I feel this way.

We carry our bags up to our room. Brittany told me that Rebecca had wanted to get two rooms, so we could each have our own, but she knew Rebecca couldn’t afford it. Therefore, we’re sharing a room with two queen beds. At this point, I’d rather have a room to myself. I try to expel those thoughts from my mind. They won’t do me any good.

“What do we want to do first? Explore the hotel?” Rebecca asks as she hefts her bag into one of the room’s chairs.

I set mine and Brittany’s down near the desk.

“Yeah, let’s walk around the hotel,” Brittany says. “Trace?” She looks to me.

“Sounds good.”

Rebecca double checks that she has the room keys and then we leave the hotel room. I don’t really see anything as we walk. My mind has shut down into simple functions.

Hold Brittany’s hand.

Nod at all the right times.

Put one foot in front of the other.

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