Page 33 of Nepenthe (Bracing for Love 2)

What good is talking anyway? I said it. Out loud. And I don’t feel better at all. What’s the point? My way works for the most part. Why do I have to change that?

“Corey.” I glance at Olivia and notice we’re in line at a drive-thru fast food restaurant. “What do you want to eat?”

“Nothing.”

She frowns, and my thoughts overpower me again. There’s really no help, is there? None for me. Maybe other people can get help from psychiatrists and therapists and medications, but I’m not like other people. This is hopeless, and I shouldn’t have let all of Olivia’s talking give me a glimpse of hope that there was.

When we get back to the apartments after stopping by the pharmacy, I pretty much leave her behind until I realize she has my keys. Her expression is full of worry when she makes it to the top of the stairs. She hands me my keys, the new pills, and the bag of food.

“Corey.” I sigh and face her after unlocking my door. “Do you—”

“No,” I cut her off. Doesn’t matter what the question is because the answer is no. “I’ll catch ya later.”

“If you change your mind, come over, okay?”

Without acknowledging her, I leave her standing in the hallway. I drop the bag on the counter and go straight to my room, stripping down and crawling into the sweet comfort of my bed.

Me: I can’t sleep.

Olivia: Me either.

Her response is quick for two in the morning.

Me: I’m tired.

Olivia: Me too. Close your eyes and quit texting. That helps.

Me: I hadn’t thought of trying that.

Olivia: Haha :) You’re talking to a genius, remember?

It took me an hour to text her. Within three texts, she’s made me smile twice. Part of me wants her to come over in hopes I’ll feel a little better, breathe a little easier, and sleep soundly. Part of me wants to kiss her again, to escape from this that way. Part of me is happy with texting.

Me: I remember.

Olivia: Why did you text me?

The dark clouds are turning ominous, taunting me, drawing me in. I don’t want to be captured. I don’t want to sink and drown. I don’t want to feel like this.

I want help.

Me: Come over?

After remembering she called me a lazy texter, I send another.

Me: Will you come over?

What if she says no? I quickly type out one more message.

Me: Please?

And then I wait.

Two minutes pass before I faintly hear my door open. Seconds later, she’s walking into my room. I swallow hard at seeing her in pajama pants and a thin tank top that reveals the frigid temperatures she was in as she crossed the hall. Olivia climbs in next to me, wasting no time before cuddling up to me.

I pull her closer, running a hand down her back to help warm her up.

“You said please.” Her voice is quiet to match the silence sur

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