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“In the mood to watch me do homework? I have some to finish up, and then we can do whatever you want.”
“I was thinking of fixing those Ritz crackers, peanut butter, and marshmallows, and then watching a movie in the recliner with you. If Lily will let you sit with me, that is.” He leans down to rub her head since she’s lying next to his seat.
“I’ll push her off,” I lie.
“You can share, can’t you, girl?” He rubs behind her ear, and she yawns. “How was your day?” Trace lifts his head, finally leaving the dog alone.
“Been worrying a lot, but only two attacks. I’m calling it a good day.”
“Worrying about your appointment in the morning?”
I nod. “Mostly, but not too much. Just a normal amount.”
“It’ll be fine,” he says, probably for the tenth time.
We finish eating in silence, and then I wrap up my homework at the kitchen table while Trace fixes dessert. To some, he may seem fine. He’s doing something instead of lying down. His mood seems subdued, but otherwise okay. However, he can’t be still. Either he’s grabbing his neck, or tapping his fingers when his arms are crossed over his chest, or he’s shifting his weight. His lips are in a firm, tense line. Trace has a lot of inner turmoil going on, even though it’s not obvious.
“Are you doing homework or studying me?”
My eyes lift to his at the sound of his gruff, slightly annoyed tone. “Homework,” I answer and proceed to do it.
Trace sits down with me once his crackers are done. I munch on a few while I work. It ends up taking me a little longer than I thought, and Trace gives up on waiting. He walks into the living room, and I hear the footrest of the recliner popping up.
Twenty minutes later, I’m finally done. Lily is actually on the couch, which surprises me.
“Still want me to sit with you?” I ask, just in case he’s changed his mind and would rather have some distance.
He doesn’t reply verbally. He moves his arm, sits up, and I take that as my cue. Once we’re situated and he reclines, he starts rubbing my back. I think that’s another one of his tells. It’s just as soothing for him as it is for me, if not more.
Trace grabs the remote off the other armrest to find something new to watch. He settles on a marathon of Fast ‘n Loud.
“Thank you,” I say quietly.
“For what?”
“For telling me you had a bad day.”
He kisses the top of my head. “Thanks for making it easy.”
A surge of pure fury floods my veins when I’m startled awake by a noise. I was sleeping so well; what in the hell is waking me up? The fury lessens dramatically when I realize the noise is Brittany vomiting in the bathroom. Shit. I really don’t feel like getting out of bed, but I can’t lie here while she’s in the middle of a panic attack. The need to comfort her is greater than my own need, and today, I’m thankful for it. It’s a sign things aren’t as bad as they felt yesterday when I was drowning and texted her because I needed her to come pull me up for air.
I throw the covers across the bed and shuffle my feet until I’m in the bathroom. She’s hovered over the toilet, one hand holding her hair, while the other rests on her thigh. Silently, I take over the hair-holding job and start rubbing her back. Another round of last night’s dinner gushes from her throat.
She spits. Her voice is gravelly and raw. “Do you know what pisses me off?” she asks, wiping away the tears from puking. Brittany doesn’t give me a chance to respond. “I swear on my life I’m not actually this nervous about my appointment, but it’s like my body doesn’t give a fuck and it’s going through the motions anyway.” She sighs, stands upright, and flushes the toilet. I take a step back to give her room to brush her teeth. When she’s done, she turns and leans heavily against me. I wrap my arms around her. “Sorry for waking you up.”
“Don’t worry about it. Anything you want me to do for you?”
“Hold me.”
Well, that’s easy. I drop my arms, take her hand, and lead her back to bed. It’s four in the morning according to my alarm clock. No wonder I’m so tired. We climb into bed, and I do exactly what she’s asked of me; I hold her.
“I really am sorry about waking you up, Trace,” she whispers. “Especially since you had a bad day yesterday.”
“Don’t be. I’m okay today.” For now, at least.
“Do you think we’ll ever catch a break?”
“We will.” What I don’t say is that I have a feeling things will get worse before they get better. “Let’s get some more sleep. Think you’ll be able to?”
