Page 26 of Winter Break Up

Mercer moves swiftly, and I lie back, trying to control myself as I look up to the ceiling. He pours one out in his palm and holds it out to me. Dry swallowing the pill with my lack of oxygen proves difficult, but I can’t even wait for water at this point.

“What else can I get you? Water? A cool rag? Let me help you take this off.”

I hold up a hand to stop him, to tell him that I need to wait for the medication to set in, but he’s not paying attention. Those strong hands help lift me to remove the puffy down coat, my mittens, and eventually my boots and socks. Gentle fingers pull my sweaty hair off my nape, and he pulls back the covers to gingerly lift me into the bed and under them.

Being tucked in by Mercer Russell is something I should be astutely aware of, but this anxiety attack is still running rampant.

It takes a good twenty minutes for the hydroxyzine to kick in, but when it does, my breathing starts to return to normal. I can finally regulate some of my emotions and stop the whirlwind in my mind. And my eyelids droop, the calming effect of the drowsiness setting in.

“I’m all right. It’s starting to work. You can take off,” I tell Mercer, wholly mortified and unable to look at him.

He doesn’t answer. The only thing I hear is the creak of my bed as the side I’m not lying on dips, and then I’m being pulled into strong arms.

“I’m not going anywhere. Rest.” Those protective words are a different kind of medicine, one I didn’t know I needed.

I should argue with him. I should tell him he doesn’t have to stay. Once I wake, I know he’ll want to talk about this, and it’s the last thing in the world I want to reveal to him.

But sleep is taking me, the comfort and warmth of his arms too good to pass up. So I close my eyes and drift off, knowing there is nowhere else on earth I’d rather be than here with him. Even if it took a horrible thing to get me here.

* * *

The sun has gone down, and the sky is dark by the time my eyes flutter open.

My room is quiet save for a soft breath on my forehead, and I realize I’m lying on my bed with someone else.

Mercer.

The afternoon rushes back up at me, the memories surfacing, and I cringe at how embarrassing it is to have him see me like this. But he didn’t leave. He’s right here, taking care of me when I don’t deserve his kindness.

“What time is it?” I croak, my throat full of sleep and grogginess.

His deep voice is hushed as he curls himself around me further. “Past midnight.”

“Jesus.” That anxiety attack did a number on me.

Goose bumps begin to rise on my arms as Mercer strokes little circles over my long sleeve, and it feels delightful after the over-stimulation of the anxiety attack.

“When did it start? The anxiety?”

Mercer’s voice is clouded with some emotion I can’t read, husky and quiet in the dark of the room.

“After my breakup.” The truth is the only answer I can give him.

I’m too tired to lie or deny right now.

While his arms are still around me, he turns his gaze to the corner of my room and feels a million miles away. “You were … you were in love with him? The breakup hurt you that badly?”

It takes me a second to realize what Mercer is asking. In the dim light of my room, this man who I’ve given so much of myself to, who has given his all to me, thinks that some idiotic college fuckboy was the love of my life, and that’s why I’m messed up so bad.

“Mercer, no.” I scootch so that our bodies lie parallel to each other on my bed. “It’s not about him, at all. Well, I guess our breakup set it off, but I wasn’t in love with him. Our relationship ending is not what started the anxiety. It was that he cheated on me. I found him being physical with someone else.”

There’s only a split-second of shock on his face before fury transforms it. “I’ll end that motherfucker. Who the fuck does he think he—”

Placing a hand on his cheek, I silence him. “I ended it before anyone could even say the word. I’d never let someone treat me like that and continue to get away with it. But the fallout led to some mental health problems.”

“Do you get the anxiety attacks often?” His hand moves to my back and strokes up and down in a calming manner.

“No. They’re much better after getting on a daily medication, but sometimes it’s like one will slam into me and I can’t stop it. After I found out he cheated on me, things got really dark in my mind. It wasn’t about him, but about how I felt within myself. I blamed myself greatly, couldn’t seem to find my self-identity or worth, and spiraled wondering who I was in this life I’d built. How I allowed something like that to happen to me. It took me months to dig myself out, and the prescriptions helped a good deal. But it’s not a perfect fix. Mental health issues never seem to have that cure-all we’re desperately searching for.”

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