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“So, where do we start?” she asks.
“What all are you going to do about getting better? We can’t work together if we aren’t constantly working on ourselves. Each time we’ve fallen apart, it starts with us losing our fight. I can’t get through to that Brittany, just like you couldn’t get through to that Trace. I need to know that you’re going to start trying and doing everything you’re supposed to do.”
She nods in understanding, but she avoids my gaze. “I don’t think I can see Dr. Gunner again,” she begins, finally looking at me. “It would always be in the back of my mind that you two are friends and still talk. I know you said that he never told you anything, but I don’t like y’all talking and him knowing. I was going to ask Mrs. Potter to refer me to someone when I go see her again.”
“When do you see her?”
“Next Wednesday.”
She probably has at least a week before she can get in to see a psychiatrist then. Hopefully, she can get in sooner, but that’s what we’re looking at.
“Trace,” she starts, bringing my attention back to her. Her voice is soft and quiet, her hand has a tight grip on her wrist, and she’s avoiding my gaze again. “I’m going to do better, but I’ve struggled with how to cope when things get hard and out of hand. I’m worried I’ll slip and mess us up again.”
I grasp her chin between my forefinger and thumb and make her look at me. “You’re going to slip.” Her shoulders sag, so I keep talking. “And it’s going to be okay as long as you keep trying and don’t push me away. You’re going to have to fight to keep from falling back into old habits. No more drinking. No more sex to feel better. No more holding back and shying away from the problem. We’ll go slow to make it easier and not so much going on at once.”
“And you’re actually going to be honest with me? Tell me when you’re having a bad day and what I can do to help? You’re not going to lie if you’re having suicidal thoughts? You’re not going to push me away when it’s you having a hard time? You’re not going to become convinced we can make each other worse again?”
I take her hand to intertwine our fingers. My gaze remains glued to hers, so she’ll hear, believe, and trust everything I’m going to say. “I’m going to slip, too, Britt. When I do, I’m going to fix it and try harder to make us work. I’m not giving up. I’m not going to leave you again.”
Her inhale is shaky and tears begin to fall. Shit. What did I do? It’s like a dam broke. Her unsteady breathing morphs into sobs as she moves to wrap her arms around me and leans into me, her face pressed against my neck.
“I’m sorry, Trace,” she mumbles through her tears.
“For what?”
“For everything, and for not forgiving you sooner.”
“I’m sorry, too.”
Lily moves to lay on me while resting her head in Brittany’s lap. I hold her until her crying slows. It feels good to have her in my arms again, and by the time, I’m ready to break our connection, I realize she’s fallen asleep. Gently, I shake her shoulder and she rouses awake, lifting her head.
“I need to take you home.”
She looks so sleepy and I feel bad for waking her up. She drops her head back onto my shoulder. “Just take me in the morning. I can sleep here on the couch.” Brittany moves away from me to rest her head on a throw pillow, closing her eyes.
I can’t let her sleep on the couch. It’s comfortable, but my bed would be more comfortable. It is late and we’re not planning to do anything more than sleep, so what could it hurt? With a deep breath, I say, “Come on. I’ll find you something to wear and you can sleep in my room.”
Her eyes open at this. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah.”
I stand, tell Lily to go out, and we head toward my room. I find her a shirt to wear and she goes to the bathroom to change while I grab my own pajamas and take my pills. There’s nothing wrong or huge about her spending the night, sleeping in my bed while only wearing a shirt. It’s not too soon as long as we keep some space between us and do nothing but sleep.
When Brittany exits the bathroom, I only allow myself a quick glance as I pass her. The last thing I need to think about is how my shirt drapes her body and falls around her thighs. I change and get ready for bed myself. When I come out, Brittany is fast asleep. That makes me relax for some reason. I crawl into bed and turn off the lamp as Lily comes into the room. She jumps onto the bed, settling at our feet. With one last glance at Brittany, I get comfortable and fall asleep.
My bed is moving and something is making a noise. Cracking an eye open, I take in the scene before me. Brittany is trying to carefully crawl over my body to get her phone—the source of the noise. When she nearly knees me in the balls, I grab her hips, startling her, and move her to that side of the bed. She throws me an apologetic smile as she answers her phone.
“What?” she answers.
Her speaker is loud enough that I can hear Melissa’s voice on the other side. “That’s rude, Brittany, especially when I’ve been knocking on your door for five minutes. Let me in.”
Brittany pauses. “I’m not home.”
“Where are you? Trace’s? I’ll come pick you up. I need to talk to someone after last night.” There’s a very brief pause and as if she can’t help herself, she blurts, “He’s pierced! Brittany, he’s pierced.”
“Okay, okay,” Brittany interrupts. “I don’t need to know that about his co-worker. Do you need to talk right now? I don’t have fresh clothes.”
“Neither do I. Ben just dropped me off a few minutes ago. I’m coming. Be ready when I get there.”
