Making Me Sane (Sanity Book 2)

by Lindsay Paige

  Fifteen minutes pass before she sniffs. I glance over at her just in time to see her wipe away a tear. My entire body is buzzing with a need to feel her, to hold her, to comfort her. If she’s vulnerable enough, she’ll let me. I hate that I think that. I hate it even more that I’m going to take advantage of it for my own selfish needs.

  I slide further down on the bed, lay an arm over her waist, slip the other underneath her neck and get as close as I can. At first she stiffens, but then she slowly relaxes. Her tears fall onto my arm at a fast rate. I have no clue how she’s holding it together right now.

  “Let go, Britt,” I whisper.

  Her muscles tense as she rolls to face me. Her mouth opens to yell most likely, but another voice stops her.

  “What the hell kind of friend is he, Brittany?”

  She sighs, closing her eyes.

  “Old boyfriend,” I answer, her eyes flashing open to glare at me.

  “Fucking figures,” he grumbles. “I forgot my phone.” He stomps over to her nightstand and grabs it.

  Brittany sits up. “Quinn.” Her voice is soft as she reaches out to grab his wrist. The tone of her voice causes him to pay attention and look at her, where before he was avoiding it. “I’m too tired to fight either of you, so I just gave in.”

  He stares at her for a moment, long enough for her to drop her hand. I should probably feel uncomfortable at this point, but I don’t. Well, maybe a little. I’m here for Brittany, though, and we’re going to talk.

  Quinn cups her face. My jaw clenches when he kisses her forehead. “This is still over. It’s too much work,” he whispers to her. “I can’t be supportive when you don’t let me in all the way. You won’t let me be here for you.”

  Her reply is barely audible. “I’ve tried.”

  “I know, baby, but we’re not working.” He kisses her forehead one more time before leaving.

  Brittany is frozen, it seems. Even after we hear the door close with a loud thud, she doesn’t move.

  “Britt,” I start. My voice snaps her out of it.

  She stands and grabs a robe hanging from the open closet door. “You do not call me that. You shouldn’t even be here! I don’t want you here, Trace! What part of I hate you didn’t you understand? It’s bad enough that you show up like this, and then have to witness my boyfriend breaking up with me for the second time this morning, but now, you won’t leave! GO! Get the hell out of my apartment! Don’t come back! I don’t want to know why you’re here. I don’t want to hear your side of the story. I don’t fucking care anymore, okay? I don’t give two shits about anything, so for the love of all that is holy, get the fuck out!” she screeches, her chest heaving as she catches her breath.

  When I stand, she mutters, “Thank god.”

  I don’t leave.

  Instead, I walk around the bed and over to where she’s standing. Her eyes widen as she takes a step back. I grasp her face between my hands and dip my head to kiss her. She doesn’t resist. She doesn’t have a non-reaction. No, my girl kisses me with so much desire, her hands immediately roaming underneath my T-shirt and over my torso with such a hunger that if I didn’t know better, I’d wonder if she’s been devoid of human contact since the last time I saw her.

  I crush her to me, the thin robe not hiding anything. God, I’ve missed her. She fits as perfect now as she did then. She’s gained back more of the weight she had lost. Her figure is fuller and my hands are itching to slip beneath her robe to explore. Her arms move to wrap around my neck as her breasts rub against my chest when she lifts onto her toes. I hook my hands under her thighs and wrap those beautiful legs around me.

  But just as soon as she’s there, Brittany lets go and takes a few stumbling steps back, shaking her head nonstop. “Don’t do this to me, Trace,” she begs quietly. “I don’t trust you.”

  My arms are empty without her and I’m overwhelmed with a sense of hollowness. The distance between us is short, but so fucking wide and vast. How am I ever going to convince her to come back to me? “Put up all the walls you want, and let me prove I’m willing to knock them down to regain your trust.”

  Her head is still shaking. “I’m not strong enough.” As if to prove her point, she brushes past me and crawls back into bed. This time, the pillow does go over her head.

  I can’t leave her. So, I walk around and get in bed next to her, lying on my side. I won’t talk. I won’t kiss her again. There was a time when my simple presence was a source of comfort for her. I want to give that to her again. She cries. She screams into her pillow and then cries some more. Hot, she throws the pillow across the room and kicks away half of the covers. I watch her settle into her other pillow, never opening her eyes.

  Her breathing soon regulates into a normal pattern. Brittany surprises the hell out of me when she reaches her hand behind her as if searching for mine. I hold it out. Her fingers grasp my forearm tightly. She pulls it over while scooting a little closer to cradle it to her chest.

  Then, she falls asleep.

  Used to be, she didn’t get enough sleep. Now I’m wondering if she sleeps too much because she sleeps for six hours. I’m so stiff, hungry, and ready for a bathroom break, I don’t know what to do with myself. But I refuse to move until those eyes open and peer at me with mild surprise.

  When her eyes do open, it’s not with surprise; it’s worse. Her face is void of any emotion. She pulls away from me and gets out of bed, standing as far away as she can manage without leaving the room. “Why are you still here?” Her tone is flat and monotone.

  I sit up and prepare for a battle. “Isn’t it obvious?”

  “Not unless your reason is to help weigh me down when I’m already struggling to stay afloat.” She folds her arms over her chest.

  “I love you.”

  Brittany laughs humorlessly. “Really? I didn’t realize that when you love someone, you break up with them and abandon them.”

  I fully expected to have to fight to win her back. I knew she would be pissed and would still be angry with me, but I had no clue the fury would be like this.

  “There is no way in hell I would take you back, Trace. I obviously don’t have the mindset to be in a relationship right now, and I for damn sure don’t have the mindset to deal with you. Please, do us both a favor and leave. You’re wasting your time.”

  “Brittany,” I start, but she interrupts me, the emotions unleashing within her again.

  “You left me, Trace!” Her voice cracks and her eyes become glassy. “You left me when I needed you. You have no idea what I’ve been through since then. No fucking clue, because you were selfish and broke up with me!” Brittany takes a short, quick breath and levels her voice before saying, “Don’t you dare come back into my life and expect anything more than hatred. I can’t forgive you.”

  Then, I realize I’m missing something. She’s right. I don’t know what happened to her after we broke up, and something obviously did. “What happened?” I ask softly.

  Her eyes harden. “Are you going to leave if I tell you?”

  Reluctantly, I nod. Brittany walks out of the room and I follow after her. She opens the door and sweeps her arm for me to stand on the other side. I do. There’s no doubt in my mind that she’s going to slam the door in my face the moment she’s done.

  “Maybe you don’t remember or didn’t realize it because you were too far gone into your own head, but I was panicked when I came to see you that day. I was distraught and terrified, Trace. I went to you because I needed to tell someone, I needed someone to help me, and I needed that someone to be you. I get there and you break up with me for a stupid reason.”

  She takes a shaky breath and continues. “So, I called Dr. Gunner as an emergency.” Her tears fall steadily now. “I couldn’t stop thinking about crashing my car, and it scared the hell out of me.” The earth shakes beneath me and I place a hand on the outer door frame to keep me steady. “He told me to go to the emergency room. I did. Considering that was something I hadn’t ever experi
enced before, he was concerned. So much so that they then involuntarily admitted me to the psych ward. That’s how I spent the week after our breakup.

  “My parents had to take a week off work, so they could be nearby and visit me. That was not a fun experience. Forgive me if I can’t help but think of that every time I look at you.” With that, she does indeed slam the door in my face, leaving me reeling from her news.

  My mind can’t even process this. No wonder she hates me. She was coming to tell me something huge, and I broke up with her before she could. While I was convincing myself I made the right decision and started to feel better, she was in the fucking psychiatric ward.

  I hear sobs from the other side of the door. It sounds like she just slid down and started crying. Fucking hell. I can’t leave her like this. I can’t abandon her again. I turn the knob, finding it unlocked. Slowly, I push it open to find her hugging her knees to her chest. She looks up at me, cheeks flushed and wet with tears, and so much pain in those beautiful eyes. In all the years I’ve known her, never has there been what seems like an insurmountable pain in her eyes.

  “Please go. I can’t deal with this.”

  Ignoring her, I crouch down and scoop her into my arms. She automatically loops hers around my neck and buries her face into the crook. “Just let me hold you,” I beg in a whisper as I walk to her bedroom.

  “I’m tired, Trace.”

  The last time she said that to me rushes out of my memories. It was not a good time then, and it isn’t now. I lay her down and climb in next to her. My hunger from earlier is all but forgotten. Brittany closes what little space there was between us, and that small move gives me hope that all is not lost between us. It’s going to be a hell of a fight, though.

  Within minutes, she’s asleep. It’s worrisome how much she’s slept today. It’s obvious that for her, I made the wrong decision. Maybe I could’ve done all that I have without her with her. I run my fingers through her hair, full of hate for myself. I’ve missed her so damn much. Every single day, I was focused on doing what I needed to do to fix myself so I could come back to her. It seems she’s spent that time hating me. Not that I can blame her at all.

  “Brittany?” I faintly hear what sounds like Rebecca’s voice. Slowly, I dislodge myself to greet her. She beats me to it. When she sees me getting out of Brittany’s bed, she says, “What the hell?”

  “Ssh.”

  She eyes me like I’m Satan himself. Once we’re away from the bedroom, she asks, “What the hell are you doing here? She has a boyfriend, you know.”

  “They broke up this morning.” That causes her scowl to deepen. “I had nothing to do with that, but I’m here because I love her and I want her back.”

  Rebecca laughs. “Good luck with that. She hates you.”

  “Yeah, thanks for the reminder,” I mutter, absentmindedly reaching up to grab my neck.

  “You’re making him nervous, Bec,” Brittany says, causing us to whirl around to face her.

  I drop my hand.

  “He should be nervous. I’m tempted to kick him in the balls. Are you sure you want him here? We could call the cops.”

  Brittany shrugs as she ambles into the kitchen and opens the fridge, staring at the contents. “He won’t leave. I don’t care anymore. Let him do whatever the hell he wants.”

  Damn. I was hoping she’d wake up and like me a little more. Or at least be willing to hear me out. There’s so much I want to tell her. Maybe I need to stay and wait until she listens.

  “She doesn’t want you here. You should leave,” Rebecca tells him as I grab a can of Sun Drop from the fridge. Nothing looks good enough to eat, so I’ll quench my thirst instead.

  “Not until we talk,” Trace answers, only looking at me.

  I’m tired. I’ve slept the day away and yet I’m still tired. “What do you want to talk about?” My fight has left me for the moment, so I’ll play along. “I don’t understand what we have to talk about, Trace. You didn’t think we would work. You broke up with me. It’s been over a year. I had even moved on. What do we need to talk about?”

  His jaw clenches with my moving on bit. It’s sort of true. I dated someone else. I did my best not to think about Trace at all. The hurt and anger and love had been buried until I had to dig for it if I wanted to experience them. Trace walking back into my life has caused the feelings to rise from the ground like the fucking undead.

  “We need to talk about everything that’s happened.”

  “Hmm,” I say. “Why? Because I don’t think we do.”

  “Because I want you back, damn it!” Trace seems to have developed a bit of a temper. That, or I’m really pushing his buttons.

  I laugh humorlessly, trying not to let his words affect me. I do my best to shove the love I felt for him back into its grave where it belongs. I remind myself that I was ruined when he left me. I was devastated. I deserve better. I can’t go back to that. There is one fact that trumps everything. I can’t trust Trace anymore. With a quick calming breath, I raise an eyebrow at him. “And? You had your chance. You blew it.”

  “You’re willing to throw away all those years of knowing me without at least hearing me out?”

  “Yes.”

  He stares at me before shaking his head in disbelief.

  “Okay, well, I’m going to go,” Rebecca says. “I came to check on you since I hadn’t heard from you today. Call me later.” She walks over to hug me before leaving.

  Trace is gripping his neck so hard, I imagine it hurts. “Britt.” His voice is low and there’s a mixture of pain, pleading, and desperation in his tone. His eyes look like his voice sounds. “Please.”

  God, I hate myself and I hate him. “Fine.”

  His quick breathtaking smile guts me. Trace – one, Brittany – zero. He orders a pizza since he’s starving and makes use of my bathroom. I settle in on the couch and start squeezing my wrist. Am I really prepared to listen to what he has to say? No. I’ve been praying I would never see him again. Trace sits next to me and I wish I couldn’t smell a hint of his soap. Same as it was.

  “So, why were you at the event last night?” he asks. I guess we’ll keep things light until the pizza comes.

  “The company I work for is the one who arranged everything. It was my first project.”

  “Really? That’s great. You did well.”

  I shrug, not wanting his praise. “Why were you there?”

  “My boss had extra tickets and I decided to go.”

  I frown. I mailed the tickets myself. None of them went to a Mr. Hanifin or to the university.

  “I quit at the university,” Trace tells me to explain away my confusion.

  “What? Why? When?”

  “After we broke up. I couldn’t handle the anxiety. It wasn’t worth it. So, I quit and got another job about a month later. It ended up being a good decision. Why aren’t you and Rebecca living together?”

  This makes me frown. “She got engaged, so I left for him to move in. Her and Dustin were on and off and now on forever.” I’m not a fan of Dustin at all. Not after we were able to confirm him ratting out Trace. But there’s something about him that Rebecca can’t resist. She always goes back to him. It’s strained our relationship some. I try to hang out with her whenever Dustin isn’t around. If it can’t be helped, then I suck it up and remain civil.

  Trace nods. “Do you still see Dr. Gunner?”

  “No,” I quickly answer. “Not after he admitted me like that. I mean, maybe I shouldn’t have stopped seeing him, since he did come up and see me while I was in the hospital, but I don’t know. I felt like he should’ve told me before I went to the hospital.”

  He frowns and his brows pull together. “He came to see you?”

  “Yeah. He drove up that Friday and left Monday.”

  “Damn it.”

  I don’t understand his reaction. Why would it matter that he was here? “What is it?” I ask.

  “I had lunch with him while he was here.” Confusion flit
s across my features and he continues, “He’s an old friend from college. He knew I was seeing you and that I broke up with you, but he would always say how he wouldn’t give me any details if I ever asked because you were his patient. I can’t believe you were his emergency.”

  I don’t know how I feel about this and I don’t want to think about it. There’s a knock on the door and Trace gets up to answer it, returning with a box of pizza. The delicious aroma fills my living room. I didn’t think I was hungry, but now that I’ve smelled it…

  “Want any?” Trace pops the lid and moves it in circles under my nose like that one time when I wasn’t hungry. The memory hurts. Breathing the same air as Trace hurts.

  If I can just let him say what he wants, then he’ll leave.

  I snag a slice of pizza. He reclaims his seat and places the pizza box on the coffee table.

  “How are your parents?”

  “Fine.” They’re disappointed in you. They would kill you if they knew you were here. They hate you as much as I do. “How’s your dad and Amy?”

  “Good.” Trace clears his throat. “They know.”

  This catches me off guard so much so that I nearly choke on my pizza. Thankfully, I’m able to regain my composure before Trace has to pat me on the back or help me in any way.

  He gives me a small smile. “We should probably eat before I tell you more.”

  I nod, though I don’t want him to tell me more. He doesn’t have to say anything else for me to know that he’s spent his time away from me by doing better, improving. I was bad for him, I guess. It also pisses me off that while he was off getting better, I was here getting worse. Sure, I’m happy for him. But I’m pissed the hell off too.

  “Are you still seeing Mrs. Potter?”

  I shake my head. Something in me cracked about two months after our breakup. I couldn’t stand going to therapy. All I did was cry or stare at the wall. Mrs. Potter only pissed me off with her suggestions and responses when I spoke to her. She wasn’t helping. So, I stopped going. I don’t really like my new psychiatrist either, but he gives me pills that are supposedly helping me.