Making Me Sane (Sanity Book 2) (22 page)

“Well, I can’t stay,” I tell him in the same tone.

“Why not?”

“Because you said yourself that we’re not quite there yet and I still don’t...don’t...” Still don’t what?

“You still don’t trust me,” he finishes quietly. Trace takes a deep breath, squeezing his eyes closed so I can’t see the pain, and he grabs the back of his neck. I don’t know what to say. It’s like he’s gutted me all over again. Those hazel eyes appear and the pain is unmistakable. “I’m doing everything I know to do. Eventually, it’s going to be up to you to make the decision because it’s going to become a decision. I love you. Maybe I shouldn’t have walked away, but what doesn’t change is the fact that I had shit of my own that I
needed
to work out. I’m still a work in progress, Britt, but I’m way better now than I was before. I can easily promise with the utmost certainty that I’m not walking away or abandoning you again.” He takes a deep breath, as if he’s releasing all the tension in his voice. “Do you still hate me, Britt?”

All I can do is shake my head.

“If you want to go, then go. Things can return to normal. But if you want to actually move in with me, share my room and my house, then you’re welcome to do that as well; I’ll be thrilled. Either way, it’s up to you.” Then he walks away from me.

I crumple into the nearby chair and watch him walk to Ben. He laughs as if everything is okay. I feel like I’ve broken something with us. Did I mess up? I know Trace is doing everything he can to help me restore my trust in him, and I’m as open as I can be. This stuff takes time. He’s not giving us any time.

But everyone keeps telling me that I’m not doing as much as I can. Or that I’m worrying too much. Or that I should give Trace more credit. Be more open. Be more trusting until he’s earned it. What if I’m the one messing us up this time?

What if I move out and Trace never asks me to move in for real?

What if this is some critical moment in our relationship and I make the wrong decision?

Damn it all to hell, I hate what ifs. Now I’m at a complete loss as to what I should do. I want to do both, but that’s not possible. What I really need is to talk to my mom. Or maybe my dad, to get his perspective. I hate feeling conflicted. Can’t someone else make this decision for me? But then I’d have to decide who I choose to make it. Life is a never-ending process of making decisions and I’m fed up with it, which really sucks because there’s no way around it.

The party goes on around me while I tune out and start thinking of pros and cons of living with Trace.

Pro: He says he wants me to stay, so it’s obvious he’s still wanting to work things out.

Pro: I can do what everyone is telling me to do: jump in, trust him, and hope it works out.

Con: If it doesn’t work out, I’m screwed out of where to live.

Con: I’m not sure we’re ready for this.

Pro: On the other hand, even if we’re not, living together could force things along.

Pro: I’d definitely save on living expenses by only paying for half of the bills instead of all of my bills.

Pro: Trace’s house is just as close to work as the projected new apartment.

Shit, I need more cons. This isn’t looking to be a tit-for-tat list like I thought it would be. The only thing I have going for the cons is that they are big cons. But some of the pros are really big too. I just need to make a decision and stick with it.

“Hungry?”

I glance up, since I had my elbows propped on my knees and my face in my palms. Trace is holding two plates of food, one outstretched to me. “Thanks,” I say as I take it and balance it on my knees.

Trace takes the seat to my left and we quietly begin to eat. I try to pay attention to the loud and rowdy people around us, noting that Ben, now that he’s finished cooking, is all eyes and ears on Melissa. It’s pretty cool that the two of them have hit it off like they have. Trace clears his throat and I glance over at him. He’s watching me.

“Do you know how last year all we were worried about was how we might be making each other worse?”

I nod. Why does he have to bring that up? It’s painful. I don’t care what people say, I don’t need the bad to appreciate the good.

“I think we focused on the wrong thing. We should’ve focused on how we helped each other instead, because even if we were making each other worse, we were still helping each other. I don’t regret walking away.”

I drop my plastic fork, squeezing my eyes closed, and wishing he’d just shut the hell up.

His voice is softer. It’s an odd contrast to the noise around us. “I don’t, because things would’ve gotten worse. If, by some miracle, I would’ve gone to see a therapist while I was with you, I wouldn’t have told you. I was skeptical as hell, Britt. Yeah, I believe in it and I know it works and helps, but I never applied that to me and my issues. I was embarrassed that it took me so long to do it. That it took me pushing you away, so I could use you as a motivator to do it. But if I hadn’t done that, I would’ve pushed you away, just like I did with my dad and just like I did with Faith. If I didn’t walk away when I did, I could’ve left us in an irreparable state. It still hurt and sucks, but it could’ve been worse.”

“Where are you going with this, Trace?” I ask.

He huffs. “Fuck if I know. All I know is I walked away for whatever reason, I love you, I’m way better now than I was then, and I’m trying to show you that you can trust me. I feel like I’m pushing you too hard, but at the same time, I feel like if I don’t, you’ll think I’m not doing all I can when I am.
I am, Britt
. Are you?” Those damn hazel eyes search my watery ones.

No.

That’s the answer that immediately pops into my head. But I can’t find the courage to answer him, which is probably an answer in and of itself. Trace sighs, stands, and walks away from me
again
. I set the plate on the table to my right and make a beeline for the door. The house is cool compared to the heat outside. It’s almost too cold because my bathing suit is still damp. I find the shorts and shirt I wore over it along with my cell phone right where I left them on a spare chair in the kitchen.

“What are you doing?”

I whirl around at the sound of Melissa’s voice.

“I don’t know. Is there a room I can hide in?”

“Hide? What’s wrong, Brittany?”

“I just feel on edge and I need a few minutes away from everything.” My throat feels tight and my breathing has quickened. I feel a little dizzy and my mouth is suddenly dry.

Melissa leads me to Ben’s room because apparently, “no one would think to look here” for me. Is that what I’m doing? Hiding? From who? I feel like I need to hide from myself, but that’s not possible. I sit on the floor with my back against the side of his bed and the farthest from the door. Sitting on his bed would make this even weirder. I fumble with the screen on my phone, watching teardrops fall, as I try to get to where I need to call my dad. This feels like a situation for only him.

“Hey, Brittany.”

“Hey, Dad.”

“Are you crying? What’s wrong?”

“Trace doesn’t think I’m doing everything I can to trust him and he’s right. Then he had to go and ask me to actually move in with him. I want to, but I don’t want to, and I feel like shit and I’m starting to freak the hell out. Help me.”

Vomit rises in my throat, but I push it down because I don’t want to get up, much less throw up.

“Deep breaths, Brittany,” he tells me, counting as he tells me when to inhale, hold, and exhale. Once I’ve calmed down, he says, “I’m going to ask you some questions, okay? Answer with the first one that comes to mind.”

“Okay.”

“Do you love him?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want to be with him?”

“Yes.”

“Do you like living with him so far?”

“Yes.”

“Does he treat you right?”

“Yes.” I laugh a little because I’m not sure if that one is for me or for Dad.

“Do you believe he’ll prove you can trust him?”

“Yeah,” I whisper.

“Did your mom ever tell you that we broke up three times before we finally got our shit together? I broke up with her
three
times.”

“And she kept taking you back?” I interrupt. Surprised doesn’t even cover it. Mom never told me this.

“Yep. Shocked me every time, and after that last time, I wasn’t ever letting her go. I asked her once, after she agreed to marry me, why she kept taking me back. She said that at the end of the day, she loved me, she wanted to be with me, and she was willing to take another shot at working out our kinks. Brittany, no one in this world can tell you what to do because no one knows Trace or your relationship with him as well as you know it, and vice versa for him. At the end of the day, what do you want?”

S
omeone slaps my arm and I look down to see a pissed off Melissa. “What in the hell is wrong with you?” she asks.

“Baby, what’s—” Ben starts, but Melissa throws a glare his way.

“I’m pissed and unless you want it directed at you, then shut up.” She turns to me. “What did you say to her? I’ve never seen her that distraught before.”

At the mention of her, I glance over to where I left Brittany. Her seat is empty, her plate is abandoned. “Where is she?”

“None of your fucking business. You listen to me, Trace Lexington. I can guess what y’all were discussing and you need to back off!” She pokes me hard in the chest. “She’s
trying
. I’ve never seen someone worry so much over a relationship and try so hard, and you can’t even see it! She needs time and
you
need to give it to her!”

“Quit bustin’ his balls, baby. It’s none of your business,” Ben tells her.

Man, she can shoot fire from that glare. “I’m going to break both your balls if y’all keep on.” She faces me again. “She’s trying. She needs you to stop pushing her, so stop it.”

“Where is she?” I ask again.

“She asked for time to herself, so that’s what I gave her. You can wait ten minutes to give her that and then I’ll tell you where I left her.”

I eye her for a moment. “I like you better than the other friend she had.” I can’t be pissed that she’s getting in the middle of things when it’s to stand up for Brittany, even though I’d rather people not meddle.

“Like me or not, I’m not going anywhere.” With that, she swivels on her heels to grab herself a beer from a nearby cooler.

“How did I know you liked them like her?” I joke with Ben, who laughs.

“Who doesn’t love a woman who will stand up to someone like that?”

“Where do you think she hid my girlfriend?” I’m starting to get antsy and I want to find her to make sure she’s okay. Ben shakes his head. “What?”

“Did you not just listen to her? Give the girl some time. I’m not telling you to have that anger aimed at me.”

Turns out, I only have to wait a few minutes before Brittany walks past me and over to Melissa. She’s put her clothes back on. I wait patiently for her to finish talking to her and come back over to me. Her eyes are a little red, but she’s smiling a bit.

“Hey,” she says.

“Hey.”

“Can we head out early?”

“Sure.”

We say goodbye to Ben and soon, we’re in my car, heading home. Brittany is squeezing her wrist and she keeps glancing at me.

“Why haven’t you said something?” she asks.

“What?”

“Why haven’t you said something? You’ve been so talkative today and you usually don’t let there be silence after discussions like that.”

I shrug. “Melissa said I need to stop pushing you and give you time, so I was trying to do that before your best friend breaks my balls.”

“Oh.”

“Are you okay?” I finally ask. I’ve been dying to ask since she walked up to me.

“I’m fine.” She takes a deep breath. “I’ll stay.”

“What?” Definitely wasn’t expecting that. “Are you sure? I mean, you don’t have to; I don’t want you to feel pressured.”

Brittany starts laughing softly. “Just accept the win and stop asking questions. I had a heart to heart with my dad when I was hiding in Ben’s room, and regardless of what we’re working on, at the end of the day, I love you and I want to be with you. I want to stay.”

“If I wasn’t driving, I’d kiss the hell out of you.”