Page 38 of Making Me Sane (Sanity 2)

As much as I hate to admit it, there’s still a tiny voice in the back of my mind that’s nagging me, whispering that I shouldn’t trust him and place my shattered heart into his hands. The same hands that destroyed it in the first place. Thoughts like these are no good, and I try to push them from my mind for good once I pull into Trace’s driveway.

I hurry to the door, knock, and hear, “Come in!” That’s all the push I need as I open the door and step inside. At first, I don’t see Trace. Noises from the kitchen pull me in that direction. Trace is pulling out a pan from the oven.

“Sounded like you needed something to comfort you,” he says when I come up next to him to see about a dozen Ritz crackers slathered with peanut butter and topped with marshmallows that are a nice brown from the broiler in the oven. Tears start sliding down my cheeks from the sweet act as I remember our weekend away at the cabin. “Hey, I didn’t mean to make you cry.” Trace pulls me against him, his arms hanging around my waist and his chin resting on the top of my head.

“You didn’t make me cry. There’s just so much going on in my head that it had to come out somehow.”

Trace reaches out to pick up a cracker. “Here,” he says as he holds it up a few inches from my mouth. “Eat this before we talk.”

I lean forward and bite half of it. Just as good as I remember. As soon as I swallow it, Trace holds the other half at my lips. My mouth parts and he pops it in. Lily comes in through her doggie door, barking and rushing over when she sees me. I grab another cracker before I pet her. Trace steps away to grab two cans of Sun Drop from the fridge. I pull myself onto the counter, so I can keep eating. Trace hands me a Sun Drop and rests against the counter next to me.

“So?”

My eyes immediately water. Great. I’m back to crying over every little thing, even something so simple as a two-letter word. “Work was crazy today, I’m worried about moving, and I’m trying for a change. It’s hard and overwhelming when I feel like shit. I want to sleep so bad, Trace, or something equally not helpful.” My voice drops to a whisper. “Part of me already wants to give up. Fighting is harder than I remember.” A corner of my mouth lifts as I try to joke and lighten the heaviness of what I’ve said.

“When you see Mrs. Potter tomorrow, push her to get you an appointment this week. She has to be able to pull some strings. If she can’t, I can. I know plenty of great psychiatrists.”

Hopefully Mrs. Potter can send me to someone new. I don’t like the idea of Trace helping me with this. It’s too close to the same situation with Dr. Gunner.

“Or my therapist could do it,” he adds as if he can read my mind. “I don’t want you spending another week or longer like this. Not when you’re already struggling so much.”

“I’ll ask her.” I wipe a stray tear and grab another cracker to keep busy.

“How is apartment hunting going?”

I shrug. “I found a few places that seem decent, but you never know.”

“Call and schedule to see them. I’ll go with you.”

A surge of anger rises from nowhere. “Will you stop solving all of my problems so easily? None of this is easy.”

“Hey, I know this. All I’m trying to do is minimize it, remind you of solutions, and let you know I’ll be there to help. I don’t mean to make it sound easy.” His voice is so calm and understanding. How is that annoying?

I take a deep breath. “I know,” I reply softly. “Sorry. How was your day? Better than mine, I hope.” I finish off my delicious cracker as he talks.

“It was okay. Lily and I had just finished our walk when you texted me.”

“You’re walking her?”

“Yeah. She has too much energy, so that helps burn it off. It’s relaxing and peaceful.”

Two words that haven’t been associated with my life for a long time. It sounds perfect. “When do you usually walk her?”

“Sometimes after work, sometimes after dinner, depending on the heat. Why? Do you want to walk with us? Sometimes, exercise helps with all of this.” He taps my temple gently. “Though,” he continues with a bit of a smile, “exercise might be a bit of a stretch. It’s not even a brisk walk, but it could still help.”

“I think I will join you.”

We talk more about our days and the upcoming week while eating the rest of our treats. It feels good to have a simple conversation, but my energy is draining by the second. My attention span, my give a damn, and that feeling of life is all being sucked dry by depression and my growing anxiety over tomorrow.

“Go home, Britt,” Trace quietly orders me. “Go to bed and rest up for tomorrow. Plan for a date with me Friday, too.”

I should leave, go straight home, and climb into bed. But I don’t want to be alone yet. I don’t want my thoughts to take over all the space in my head until I can’t even think through the tangles and knots as they band together and dominate my mind. I’m not strong enough to deal with it. If weakness could be a strong suit, it’d be my forte. That thought brings another surge of tears.

“You’re a mess,” Trace whispers as he moves to stand between my knees and wraps his arms around my shoulders as I press my face into his neck with a small laugh.

“Thanks.”

“I love you, though.”

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