Nepenthe (Bracing for Love #2)

by Lindsay Paige

  “At some point while we’re here, be sure to give me a kick in the ass, so I can tell them, okay?” Tonight, I made the decision to fill my siblings in on what’s been going on with me. Ms. Cynthia is right. I want them to know, so they know what to expect. Even though I don’t want them to worry, it’s better than keeping them in the dark.

  Olivia’s eyes widen. “Really?”

  The surprise so clear in her voice halts me. “Yeah, unless it’s a bad idea? I thought I needed to tell them, but if you think I shouldn’t—”

  “No, no. That’s not what I meant. I’m just surprised you want to.”

  With a wry smile, I say, “I don’t, but I do. Looks like seeing Ms. Cynthia is a good thing for sure.”

  “Most definitely.” She snuggles closer to me. “Want to do some yoga? I brought the mats.”

  I laugh. “Seriously? Date weekend is yoga-free. Let’s find a movie instead.” I reach for the remote as Olivia gives in. We don’t even make it to the halfway mark before what starts as simply cuddling turns into something so much better. Once again, Olivia has the power to make me forget tomorrow’s battles. She’s all that exists tonight and that’s just the way I like it.

  EARLIER TODAY, WE met up with Olivia’s brother for lunch, and spent most of the rest of our time hanging out with my siblings, and sometimes Grant as well. Saturday night comes and so does our date. This is date weekend, after all, so I need to take her out. There’s a place not too far from our hotel where I plan on taking advantage of Olivia’s competitive side. There’s arcade games, laser tag, air hockey, darts, and all sorts of stuff like that. It’s mostly a local hangout for teenagers, but I don’t think she’ll mind.

  When she exits the bathroom, she’s dressed in jeans and a purple v-neck short-sleeved shirt with some sort of white design on it. She’s pinned her bangs back and looks like she’s even wearing a little makeup. The thing I notice most of all is her wide smile, my favorite thing about her.

  “Ready?” I ask, standing up.

  “Yep!” She walks over, holds out her hand, and I take it before leading the way. “Where are we going?” she asks once we’re in my car.

  “You’ll see.”

  Nervous, I run my now-clammy hand down my thigh before switching to do the same to the other. Olivia doesn’t seem to notice since she’s looking out the window, humming the tune to the song playing on the radio. All I can think about are a thousand questions designed to annoy and worry me. What if she hates this? What if this is really stupid? What if, what if, what if? What if’s can go to hell because I can’t stand them.

  Once I park and we walk inside, I give in and check Olivia’s reaction. A smile creeps onto her face as she takes in all the games. Then she laughs and glances at me. “You’re so going down.”

  We first feed money into a machine that spits out the coins we’ll need for the games. Olivia drags me to the air hockey table first. Before we start, I give her my most serious expression.

  “There are two rules.”

  At this, she props her hands on her hips and narrows her eyes. “And those would be?”

  With one finger up, I say, “No playing dirty.” I lift another finger and add, “No cheating.”

  “You’re no fun, Corey, but okay.” She shrugs.

  Her eyes stay focused on the red disk as it glides across the table. I’m focused too, but when I score first, sending a smirk to Olivia, she gets serious about the game. The moment she exaggerates leaning forward to push the puck back my way, I get a glimpse of her cleavage.

  “Hey,” I start when she does it a third time, causing me to almost allow a goal. “No playing dirty, remember?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she grunts, hitting it hard and making it bounce off the wall. I’m not quick enough to keep her from scoring this time. “YES!” she shouts, throwing her arms in the air and doing a little victory dance.

  I shake my head at her. The trick doesn’t work after that, as I keep my eyes on the red blur as it moves across the table. It doesn’t matter either way because Olivia wins the game, 4-2.

  “What’s next? I’m ready to kick your ass again.” She grins.

  We slowly make our rounds, playing nearly all of the games. I start winning too, although Olivia gets some wins in as well. She’s keeping score, and once I get three wins ahead of her, she folds her arms over her chest, glaring at me as I feed coins to the next machine where we’ll toss basketballs into the net.

  “You’re playing dirty,” she states.

  “What?” I laugh. “I am not.” I so am.

  “Were you not the guy standing behind me a little too closely during darts, whispering dirty things in my ear?”

  “Nope. Here.” I hand over her basketball. “Redeem yourself.”

  She tries, but the poor girl can’t shoot a basketball to save her life. “Uggghhh!” she groans as the buzzer sounds and she’s had zero goals. “Corey, you know, I’m not the kind of girl who will get mad if you start letting me win,” she tries, her voice turning sugary sweet as she slips her arms around my waist.

  “Yes, you are. Maybe we should up the ante.”

  “Like with a bet?”

  “Yeah. All or nothing showdown in laser tag. Whatcha think?”

  “Hmm,” she hums, pretending to think about it as she tilts her head. “If I win, which I will because I’m a beast at laser tag, then I get a hundred bucks. If you win, then I’ll give you my spare key to my apartment and whatever else you want. Deal?”

  “Hmm,” I mimic. “Deal.”

  I want her to win, so she can say she won and to have bragging rights. On the other hand, I want that spare key. Not because I necessarily need it. If I knock and she’s home, she’ll open the door. Or if it’s unlocked, I can just walk in. But the action behind her giving me the key is huge. That much I understand. Or maybe I’m overthinking this and she’s trying to dupe me by getting the better prize. I don’t know.

  We divide up, joining separate teams of a bunch of teenagers, and soon it begins. My brothers and I used to play a lot when we were younger, so I’m pretty damn good, if I say so myself. I help out my team as much as possible, but Olivia is my ultimate target.

  “Ha!” I hear seconds before I lose. When I turn around, Olivia is standing there with a victorious smile from her success.

  “Shooting me in the back is wrong,” I try, but I can’t lose my smile at seeing how happy she is.

  “That wasn’t one of your rules,” she sings. Even if it was, it wouldn’t have mattered. One of these days, it’ll make it through my thick skull that Olivia doesn’t play by the rules.

  I love that about her.

  SUNDAY AFTERNOON, WE’RE sitting on the couch in the living room at Patrick and Jon’s house, hanging out before I have to leave. Olivia keeps subtly poking my thigh, reminding me that I’m supposed to talk to my siblings. Grant is out and about somewhere, so it’s only us. We’ve come to a lull in conversation, Olivia pokes me hard again, and I clear my throat. Might as well get this over with before a bruise forms on my leg.

  “I know y’all want to know what’s been going on with me, and I’m ready to talk.” That immediately catches everyone’s attention. “I need you to wait until I finish to say anything or ask questions, okay?”

  They nod. This is the moment where I bare my soul for them to see. The thought makes me freeze, my mouth seals shut. Olivia takes my hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze. Each of them is watching me, looking a little nervous and worried, but expectant and ready for answers. I need to do this for them and for me. With a deep breath and my eyes on my baby sister, I get started.

  “I’ve been battling depression.” That’s easily the hardest sentence I’ve ever had to say to them. Lucy immediately looks concerned and I have to force myself to continue, to ignore the big brother protective urge to keep this from her, to save Lucy from any worry. “This isn’t something that started with my injury. It’s something I’ve been struggling with for a l
ong time, definitely since high school if you want a time frame, but my injury is what triggered it again.”

  Hopefully that’s enough history because I’m ready for this to be over. It’s time to start the reassurance aspect. “I’m in a better place right now. I’ve started seeing a psychiatrist and a therapist, so I’m learning how to deal with it better than I was. Football was the main way I coped, and without that…” I trail off, not wanting to say the words out loud, that I can’t deal with life.

  “I missed too many days of school and that’s why I was dropped this semester. I really like my job, too. I’ll probably do this instead of going back in the fall. I’m sorry for worrying you guys, but you know as well as I do I’m not one to want to talk about anything. I thought it was time y’all knew though, and I don’t want to keep the important things from you either.”

  The silence is enough to make me start regretting telling them. I can’t read their faces well enough to know exactly what they’re thinking, other than they’re thinking hard. Lucy, my sweet baby sister, speaks first.

  “What do you need us to do to help?”

  “I, uh.” Hell if I know.

  Olivia speaks for me. “He needs support and understanding. The therapist is helping him with the rest, but if there’s anything else, he’ll tell you from now on. Right, Corey?” She gives me a pointed look.

  “Right,” I nod. “I’ll do my best to keep you updated and to talk to you.”

  Jon, who is sitting on the other side of me, slaps my shoulder. “We’ve got your back.”

  “Yeah, whatever you need, tell us,” Patrick tells me. “I don’t know about them, but I’m pissed you didn’t say something sooner. You know we’d do anything for you, and we could have been more helpful if we knew what the hell was going on. I’ll forgive and forget for you because I get why you didn’t.”

  “Can we stop tip-toeing around stuff now? Does this mean we’ll actually talk about things instead of pretending we don’t have to?” Lucy inserts after him. “Like Mom and Dad,” she adds, more softly.

  My head shakes before I can think twice about it. “Luce.” My voice is raspy as my throat suddenly aches. Swallowing hard, I take a deep breath to compose myself and my thoughts before I continue. “You can talk about them as much as you want.”

  “Not without you acting like you are right now,” she interrupts with a gentle tone.

  She’s right. I freeze the moment she brings them up, because it’s what I’m used to doing. It’s too difficult to say how much I miss them or how I wish they could see how we turned out, or even how I wish they could see my grandparents again. It’s the same with football. When things get hard, I want to shut up and pretend it doesn’t exist. I do not want that for Lucy, Patrick, and Jon.

  “Talk about them and whatever else you want, but,” I pause a moment, “old habits are hard to break. I need to work through my issues more before I can do that with you, okay? Give me time.” All I need is a little time to find a way to be the person they want me to be while managing to stay comfortable and not freak out.

  Shouldn’t be too hard.

  Ha.

  OLIVIA LEAVES FIRST thing Monday morning to go home. She hadn’t decided on three or four days yet, but packed for four just in case. She was going to play it by ear. For some reason, she seemed nervous about it. At least, I thought so. After work, I decide to text her.

  Me: How’s your day been so far?

  Olivia: Good! About to go out for dinner with family. Yours?

  Me: Good. Have fun. Talk later. :)

  With her gone, I don’t have to do yoga. I kick back on the couch, text Lucy to make sure she had safe travels, and watch TV. It’s a nice, relaxing night. My football is sitting on the end table. I start to pick it up, but decide against it. When did the football become my football? That can’t be good.

  “Think of the future children you may have.”

  It should become my football with that logic. Don’t I want to be able to do the same things my dad did with me? Doesn’t even have to be my kids. Maybe it’s Patrick’s or Jon’s or Lucy’s kids one day way down the road. Reaching over, I pick up the football, turning it over in my hands as if I’m examining it. Olivia was right. I lost my ability to play, but I didn’t lose my love for the game.

  Still, I should take baby steps. Life is pretty good right now, maybe better than ever before. I don’t want to jinx myself or mess this up. On that note, I place it back on the end table and go to bed early.

  DURING MY LUNCH break, Olivia texts me.

  Olivia: Think I’ll stay four days. Think you can survive without me until then? Haha

  Me: I’ll manage. Glad you’re having a good time.

  Olivia: :) Do you miss me yet?

  Me: Nope. Haha, things have been quiet, no talking going on. It’s nice.

  Olivia: You like talking more than you think. But I’m hurt that you don’t miss me! :( I miss you. Only a little, though. I like being away from your grouchiness.

  Me: I’ll be extra grouchy for you when you get back then. :) I was kidding. I do miss you. Only a little, though. I like not doing yoga everyday.

  Olivia: Liar! You love yoga. You love everything I get you to do. You’d be lost without me, might as well admit it haha.

  Me: I would be lost without you, Olivia. No doubt. Gotta get back to work.

  That bothers me all afternoon. Would I really be lost without her? She’s been gone two days and I’m doing just fine. No freaking out, no lows, no problems. I can last two more days, right? Or maybe Olivia is the glue holding my broken pieces back together. I get lost in my tasks as we finish up this remodeling project this week. I’m excited about what may come next, but nervous at the same time.

  All of this seems to spin out of control at a rapid pace. Without Olivia, I’m lost and on a downward spiral. I’m dependent on her like I was dependent on football. That can only lead to a disaster. Suddenly, the thought of going home alone seems daunting. She’s not within arm’s reach in case I fall apart. I’m on edge enough to feel like that is about to happen at any moment.

  “Corey.” Hank’s stern tone snaps me out of my head. “Time to go home. The work day is over.”

  “Already?” It could be me imagining things, but my voice sounds squeaky. A quick glance shows that everyone else has left already. “Are you sure?” Dumb question, but I ask anyway.

  His head tilts as his brows pull together. “Yes, I’m sure. Go home, boy.”

  Only, I don’t want to go home. I have no other options, though, so I pack up my things, stop to pick up food, and go home. Things are quieter, darker, and almost spooky. Plopping down onto the couch and turning on the TV, I pull out my chicken dinner and begin to eat. I’m psyching myself out. Have to be. That’s the best explanation. The safest.

  My chest reclaims a familiar heavy feeling when I take my pill and lie down for the night. There’s one mantra repeating in my head as I slowly begin to doze off.

  I’m strong enough to stand on my own two feet.

  I’m strong enough to stand on my own two feet.

  I’m strong enough to stand on my own two feet.

  I am strong enough to stand on my own two feet.

  IF IT’S POSSIBLE, I’m quieter than usual. I don’t talk unless I have to, easily wrapped up and lost in my mind. The thing is, I’m not really thinking about anything in particular. I’m doing what Hank or Nate is telling me to do, numbly going through the motions of my day. Every other thought is a variation of wanting to go home, fall into my bed, and go back to sleep.

  When I do finally make it home, I only get as far as the couch. It’s like a switch has been flipped. I mean, what the hell am I even doing? Dad wanted me to be a pro football player, not a carpenter. I’ve failed him anyway. Not only because my football career is long gone, but because I’ve been a shitty brother to all of my siblings too. Everything is wrong and isn’t as it should be. There’s no way to fix it either. It’s hopeless.

  Life su
cks.

  Living has made me tired today.

  With that statement, it seems as if everything slows down around me.

  Oh, no.

  No, no, no, no.

  I don’t want to be in a low. As if I have a choice. If I did, I wouldn’t feel like this. Does this mean I can’t survive without Olivia? Is her being gone why I feel like this? No. It’s about that time. That’s all. Somehow, I need to find something to hold onto while I ride it out for however long it plans to stay. Or at least until Olivia gets back, and then I can hold onto her until I can pull myself out of this funk.

  Standing up, I decide to go lie in my bed. My eyes catch sight of the damn football, making me stop next to the end table. This is all its fault. I pick it up and with a grunt, I hurl it at my door with a sudden flood of anger. A shriek quickly snaps me out of it. Olivia pokes her head around my door, which my football bounced off of moments before, narrowly missing hitting her.

  “Corey? That’s not exactly the welcome I was hoping for. Bad day?” she finishes as she steps inside.

  Her presence dumbfounds me. “What are you doing here?” Have I lost track of what day it is?

  “I decided to come home early.”

  I breathe a sigh of relief at not having gone so far off the deep end like last time. “Sorry about the football. I’m glad to see you, I really am, but,” I point back to my room, “it’s time for bed.”

  She frowns, probably because it’s only six thirty in the evening. I brace myself for her to pepper me with questions and push me already. She doesn’t. Instead she says, “Can I join you?”

  Don’t think I tell her no, especially since it looks like we’re not going to talk. Plus, I have missed her, so it’ll be nice to have her around. She joins me in the bedroom. I let her borrow some of my clothes to sleep in, and soon, we’re climbing into bed. We face one another, her head against my chest as I hold her to me, running my fingers up and down her spine. My eyes close, my breathing slows, but my mind keeps working. Why is she home early?