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“Love you too.” I take a deep breath and sit up, causing his arms to fall and his hands to land on my thighs. “I think I’m okay now.” Far from okay, but better than I was. Hopefully, by tomorrow, I’ll be even better.
“It’s good to see you again,” Mrs. Potter says as we settle into our seats. “How have you been? Catch me up. We have plenty of time because my next appointment canceled, so don’t feel like you need to rush through it.”
I nod and begin recounting the highlights of what’s happened since I last saw her. I swear, I go through a box of tissues. It’s hard to get through it all, to realize just how bad things have been, and to think about the long road ahead of me. Mrs. Potter looks at me with pity many times throughout my story. Eventually, I finish and take a deep breath, wishing I had something to drink for my dry throat. Mrs. Potter steps out for a moment so the receptionist can go ahead and try to set up an appointment with a psychiatrist before the end of the week.
“It’s been a tough year for you. I’m happy you’ve decided to come back. It seems like you have a bit of a plan. I definitely want to see you once a week for a while. Try to get back into the habit of using the techniques you’ve learned for your anxiety. If it doesn’t help, we’ll come up with new methods. As for your depression, I think what you’ve done so far is good. Get out of the apartment, relax, have some me-time, even if that means spending it with Trace. Just do something for yourself that gets you out of the apartment. Don’t wallow in it. Fight. Once we get you on medication, hopefully that will help out as well. Is there anything in particular that you’d like to discuss more in depth?”
My hand makes a move for my wrist. I know this more because Mrs. Potter’s gaze drops than the fact that I noticed I did it. “How long do you think it’ll take before I trust Trace again?”
Mrs. Potter seems to take a moment to think about it. “I believe your heart already trusts him completely. It’s your brain that’s fighting him, which is fine. I can’t tell you how long it’ll take, but it will take time. If you two can’t work it out yourselves, feel free to bring him to a session. Or, if you’d rather see his therapist, that’s fine too. You seem a bit hesitant still about being with him again. I want to make a suggestion.”
My body tenses. “Which would be?”
“Stop thinking so much when it comes to Trace. I know it might seem crazy, especially given what he did and how it affected you, but you make it sound as if you’re both fully committed and willing to do whatever it takes to make your relationship work. That being so, fall in head first and learn to trust him again that way. If he catches you, then it’ll help rebuild the trust.”
All I can think about is what if he doesn’t?
By the time I get to Trace’s for our walk with Lily, I’ve repeated what Mrs. Potter told me so many times that it might as well be my new mantra. It’s actually made me feel better, too. There’s even a smile on my face! It’s a miracle! I knock on Trace’s door, hear Lily bark once, and then he opens it. She’s already attached to her leash. Trace looks hot in a pair of gym shorts and a white T-shirt.
“Ready?” he asks.
“Yep.”
We walk down the porch steps, across the yard, and to the sidewalk. Lily is walking happily next to Trace. He reaches over to intertwine our fingers and gives my hand a light squeeze.
“You’ve had me worried; I haven’t heard from you all day. How was your appointment?”
“Good. I basically had two sessions because the person after me canceled and she let me talk that long. She was able to get me into a psychiatrist tomorrow. Hopefully, I’ll like this one. And I was going to text you, but work was chaos when I got there. We have another big event coming up. It’ll probably be crazy for a while. How was your day?” I ask, glancing over at him.
A short sigh leaves him. “Long. Hoping that between you and the walk, it will serve as a pick-me-up. My bad days come every so often, and it’s just about that time. Well, it wasn’t a bad day; just one of those days that are a bit of a struggle, you know?” He looks at me since I’ve stopped walking because I’m too busy staring.
He told me.
Without having to push and prod and search for signs, he told me he’s having a bad day.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” His voice is curious with a hint of amusement as if he knows I’m stunned. He’s so damn gorgeous and cute.
Before I can think twice about it
, I step closer, lift onto my toes as I grab his T-shirt in my fists, and I kiss him. Trace locks an arm around my waist to hold me closer. I don’t have to be prodded for my mouth to open and his tongue to sweep inside. The evening is hot as it is and I’m starting to burn from the inside out with every brush of his mouth. Kissing Trace is like that feeling when you’ve been on a health kick, drinking nothing but water, and suddenly, you get a tall, cold glass of your favorite soda. It tastes so good and quenches your thirst for that one, specific drink. Unfortunately, it also makes you crave more.
More of Trace’s tight grip around my waist.
More of his mouth sending delicious waves of pleasure all over my body, even though he hasn’t left my mouth.
More of his body against mine.
More exploring of other places, like the area where his hard length is against my stomach.
Too much need is coursing through me, and it makes me want to drag him back to the house.
This is too soon; we’re supposed to be taking things slow.
I pull my head back and stare into those probing hazel eyes. Both of us are breathing a little heavy. Lily’s own panting draws my attention when she nudges her nose against my leg. I glance down at her and laugh.
“Sorry, girl. Back to walking, I know.” Trace is still holding onto me. “Are you going to let me go?” I ask with a teasing tone and a playful smile.
“Never.” He kisses my forehead and then lets go of me, so we can start walking again.
