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The words rush out of my mouth to keep up with my out of control breaths. “It won’t help. Nothing helps. I’m tired of talking. I feel like my lungs are going to explode and I can’t. I can’t!” I hang up and throw my phone across the room. Pulling my knees up to my chest, I sob. I don’t even know why I’m crying. Everything. Just every-fucking-thing! I’m so unbelievably over it that I want to let go completely.
I want to lock my door and never leave my house ever again to avoid dealing with life. Who needs it? What good is it? It’s just problem after problem after problem. It’s a bunch of bullshit. There’s pain. There’s an ex-boyfriend you don’t know what the hell to do about. There’s a job you love but you dread showing up because that means you have to leave your apartment. There’s so much that’s wrong and nothing that’s right. And if there is, it’s not worth the hassle.
My eyes begin to droop. Yes. Sleep. Take me away from reality for as long as possible. Faintly, I think I hear some thumping. But wait! The hockey game. I struggle to keep my eyes open while sipping from my bottle, making a mess as I miss my mouth a little. I need a straw. My brows pull together when something blocks my vision.
“Britt, what are you doing to yourself?”
Oh, god. No. Not that soft, caring voice. Is Trace invading my dreams now too? “Why is he here?” I blubber.
Dream Trace tries to take my bottle, but my hands tighten around it. “Your mom called Will’s office to get my number. She was worried you might do something stupid; glad to see you aren’t.” He starts pacing, but it’s hard to follow him.
Rage burns through my veins. “Go to hell. I don’t want you here! God, get out of my head. I hate you!” Without thinking twice, I sit up and throw the bottle at him. It’s disappointing when it misses. You’d think I’d have better aim.
“What the fuck?”
“You ruined me! I loved you, and you abandoned me! Why can’t you just leave me alone?” I fall backward, tired. “I just want it to stop,” I whisper, rolling over to face the back of the couch, and close my eyes. I want it all to end.
I groan as I rouse awake. My head is pounding, my chest and cheek feel sticky, and I fear too much movement may cause me to vomit.
“Good. You’re awake.”
Screaming, I jump upright to see Trace in one of my chairs. “What the fuck are you doing here? How’d you get in?” Before he can answer, I run to the trash can in the kitchen since it’s the closest and throw up. He tries to hold my hair, but I blindly push him away.
“Door wasn’t locked. What do you remember about last night?”
“Nothing. Why are you here?” I ask, wiping my mouth on my arm. He follows me into the bathroom where I quickly brush my teeth.
“You called your mom last night and freaked her the hell out, so she called Will’s office repeatedly until she could speak to him to get my cell number. She couldn’t get up with Rebecca and she wanted someone to check on you.”
“Well, get the hell out.” I’m in no mood to deal with him while dealing with a hangover from hell.
“Why are you drinking anyway? You know mixing that with your meds is a bad idea.”
“I’m not taking my meds!” I blurt out. I’m unbelievably sick of him lecturing me. I’m pissed at myself, at him, at my mom, and at Rebecca. Luckily for Trace, he’s here to get the brunt of my anger. “Go home! I don’t want you here. I don’t want to work this out with you. I don’t want you to tell me I’m making all the wrong decisions, Trace! I am this close to my breaking point and I’ll be damned if you’re going to watch me fall apart. You didn’t care to stick around for that last year, and I don’t need you here for it this go round.
“The best thing you can do for me is to get as far away from me as possible and stay out of my life. How many times do I need to say it? I HATE YOU! I couldn’t pick up the pieces without you, and I can’t do it with you either, apparently. You’re making everything worse.” I don’t even care about the tears pouring down my face. “Just go away and let me do a piss-poor job of taking care of myself.”
Trace stares at me and I can’t tell if he’s shocked, stunned, or pissed. He’s definitely seeing me in a new light now, I bet. He’ll be glad to get rid of his crazy ex-girlfriend. “Okay,” he finally says, nodding to himself. He turns and starts walking to the door, leaving me stunned with a mixture of disappointment and relief. But then, he swivels on his heels and stalks toward me with such purpose that I back up until my hips hit the counter.
His hazel eyes are stormy and darker than normal, but he gently grabs my chin and tilts my head back to look at him. “I’ve changed my mind. I’m not going anywhere. I’m not abandoning you again. I’m not giving up on us. Go ahead; break. Fall apart. We’ll put the pieces together afterward. I don’t care what you do or what you say, I’m not letting this go or giving up. You love me as much as you hate me. I want you. I love you. And not even my Britt being depressed and angry is going to push me away.”
I hold my breath, waiting for something to clue me in on what the hell I’m supposed to do with that. His thumb brushes over my lower lip and I launch myself at him. Why are we even talking? Sex would feel better. I snake my arms around his neck, holding him close while my tongue delves into his mouth. Trace kisses me back. I reach between us to unbutton his pants, but he pulls away, taking steps backward and away from me while shaking his head.
What is he doing?
“I can’t do this.”
“Why not?” Her tone kills me. It’s as complicated as she is. Hurt. Disappointment. Anger.
“All you’ve done is tell me that you hate me—”
“And we’ve had sex since then,” she points out, keeping her voice calm now.
“Yeah. Maybe we shouldn’t have,” I carefully admit. “You’re using it to make yourself feel better and so you don’t have to think about what’s been said. I don’t want to have sex with the woman who hates me, not until you can tell me you love me again.”
Her face hardens. “Get out.”
It’s been a damn whirlwind of a morning. I nod and head home. Lily needs to be let out and I need to get ready for work. I’m worn out in every way possible. I didn’t sleep well in that uncomfortable chair of hers. All I could do was watch her take every breath and wonder how she got to this point. I feel guilty as hell.
