Driving Me Mad (25 page)

I smile. It’s good to see her
genuinely happy without anything holding her down. We arrive just
fine and make our way inside without any problems. Brittany wraps
her arm around mine and sticks close to my side.

“Not a big fan of insane
crowds like this,” she mutters as she holds onto my arm in a
vise-like grip. “Get me to our seats, Trace.”

“Almost there,” I reassure
her. Can’t blame her for not liking crowds like this. Who would
want to be jammed in the middle of people in an aisle as everyone
is trying to get to their seats? Someone bumps hard into her
shoulder, so I pull her to stand and walk in front of me, keeping
my hands on her hips. Even that little bit of contact shows me how
tense she is. “Right here,” I tell her when we approach our row.
She takes a deep breath once we’re in our seats. “Doing okay?”

“Yeah; I just hate that part
of things like this. Thank you for doing this, Trace.”

“You’re welcome.”

Brittany leans over to give
me a quick kiss. She doesn’t care much for the opening acts because
she’s extremely picky when it comes to her country music
preferences. She loves this band, though. She sings to every song
and I’m pretty sure she smiles the entire time. She tenses up when
we go to leave again, but I keep her in front of me this time.

“Best concert I’ve ever
seen,” she says once we’re in the car.

“I have to agree.” The band
was amazing.

“Well,” she begins as she
buckles her seatbelt. “Take me home, so I can thank you.”

I grin and back out of my
parking space. Whatever she wants, I’ll do. These good days make it
easier to get through the hard ones. I’m hoping for more good days
before the inevitable harder days come.

***

“
I
’m calling the
grinch, babe,” I whisper, pulling the covers over my head, so I
don’t have to look at him. The happiness from the concert and the
weekend is long gone. It’s midweek and midterms are kicking my ass.
My heart is beating out of control, my chest hurts, I’m sweating,
and my hand aches from the frequency and strength with which I
squeeze my wrist.

Trace tries to pull the
blanket down, but I hold it in place. “You can’t, Britt. Let’s get
up and shower. You survived Monday and Tuesday, you can survive
today.”

“Barely,” I grumble.

Trace gets out of bed, and I
think I’ve won, even though I don’t want to. I need to go to class
no matter how much I hate the thought. My body lacks the energy to
force myself out of bed. I’m startled when the covers fly off the
bed. Trace leans over to pick me up, cradling me in his arms as he
walks to the bathroom.

“There. Half the battle is
done,” he tells me.

“I hate you.” Total lie, but
I’m annoyed and anxious.

“I love you,” he says simply.
Trace turns on the water in the shower and begins to strip.

“You can’t distract me just
because you’re naked.”

“Worked yesterday.”

Yeah, but once the high of
sex went away, I nearly crashed from the anxiety overwhelming me.
Once Trace has stripped down, he starts undressing me, but it makes
me feel like I’m helpless. “I’ll do it,” I say quietly. “Get in and
get a head start.” He eyes me for a moment before getting into the
shower. I quickly finish undressing and step in after him. “Will
you wash my hair again?”

“Anything you want.”

He washed my hair yesterday
and it felt amazing with those big hands massaging my scalp. We
wash ourselves, which is nothing special, but Trace’s gaze keeps
traveling over my body. He grabs my shampoo, squirts too much into
his hand, and steps closer to me. My eyes close as his hands get
lost in my hair. Every time I inhale, my breasts brush against his
torso. The length of him is hot and hard between us, leaning
against me. My body starts to relax.

He kisses my lips softly,
just a breath of a touch. His mouth drops kisses to my nose, my
forehead, my cheeks, and my jaw. Feeling a bit dizzy, I grab his
hips. “Sure I can’t distract you?” he whispers. I open my eyes to
see his face hovering just above mine. Those hazel eyes are intense
with all of his focus on me.

“It’s only a temporary
distraction,” I weakly point out. I don’t even know why I’m trying
to put up a fight.

“But it’s a good one.”

Us, here, in the shower is
another temporary distraction. I can already feel the anxiety
beginning to squeeze the life out of me. Trace steps forward to
make me step backward, tilting my head back under the water as he
rinses the shampoo out.

“Distract me, Trace,” I
whisper. I don’t want to be consumed by anything but him right
now.

He doesn’t say a word. He
dips his head, kisses me, and proceeds to do what I’ve asked.

E
very day of
midterms was just a little worse than the day before. Trace helped
me get through it, though. I swear, I don’t know what I would do
without him. The best part of it all is he loves me. Trace
Lexington loves
me
.

“What’s the smile for?” Trace
asks, bumping my shoulder as we stand in line at security in the
airport.

“I was just thinking about
how you love me.”

Trace smiles his genuine
breathtaking smile, but the moment is ruined when Rebecca says,
“Barf. Don’t make me regret volunteering to be the third
wheel.”

Trace throws an arm around
both our shoulders. “Don’t worry, Rebecca. We’re a trio, not a duo
with a sidekick.”

We laugh. The line starts
moving, so we start shuffling along. If things can stay as good as
they are right now, the trip will be a ton of fun. I’m crossing my
fingers. We could all use a break after this past week. We make it
through security all right, and when we’re waiting at the gate,
Trace and Rebecca carry on a conversation. I like that they like
one another. It always makes things like this easier and more
pleasant. But while they’re talking, my eyes are looking around,
scanning the place, and that’s when I realize something.

I’ve never been on a plane.
What is it like? What’s the worst part of flying? It should be fun
to find out, I think. Before I know it, we’re being called to
board. My breathing hitches as we walk down and step onto the
plane. The line stops as people put their luggage overhead.

“I changed my mind,” I blurt
out. “I don’t want to go.”

Trace turns to look at me.
“It’s too late.”

“What?” I squeak. “Why?”

The line starts moving again,
and Trace grabs my hand to pull me along. “Do you trust me?” he
asks over his shoulder.

Trust in Trace.
Isn’t
that supposed to be my life motto now? He places our carry-on above
the seats and takes the seat by the window, leaving me with the
middle and Rebecca with the aisle. God, now I’m trapped!

“I don’t know if I can do
this.”

“You can,” Rebecca says.

How can my heart be beating
so fast? I rub my hands along my legs because they’re clammy and
yucky. I can’t do this. This plane is going to suck all the air out
of the cabin and kill me. Or, it’s going to fall from the sky and
crash and burn.

“Haven’t you flown before?”
Rebecca asks.

“No.”

Trace leans down to search
through my purse. “Do you trust me?” he repeats.

“Yes,” I grit. What does that
have to do with whether or not we’ll survive this flight? “How long
is the flight?”

“We’ll get there when we get
there.” I do
not
like that answer. Trace finally pulls out
the bag with my meds. He grabs the bottle with my panic pills,
opens it, and lets two fall into his hand. “Take these to calm you
down, and I’ll help you with the rest.” Once I’ve taken the two
pills, he seems satisfied. “Buckle up.” We all do. “What, in
particular, is bothering you, Britt?”

“I’ve never flown before.
What’s going to happen? What will it feel like? What if something
happens? Can you honestly see me reacting well in an emergency?
I’ll die from panic!”

He unlatches my hand from my
wrist to hold it in his lap. In a low voice, he starts to explain
everything I can expect to happen and what taking off and landing
will feel like. He still leaves out the length of the flight, and I
find myself avoiding my ticket so I can’t see when we’ll land and
figure it out. I’m on edge. The takeoff sucks, and I hate it. Being
in the air sucks, and I hate that too.

“I’m not a fan of flying,” I
mumble, ready for it to be over within thirty minutes of being in
the air.

Trace chuckles, throws an arm
around my shoulder, and tucks me into his side.

“Do you want to listen to my
music?” Rebecca offers.

“No, that’s okay. Thanks,
though.”

With that, she puts in the
earbuds.

“I’ve flown before,” Trace
says. “It can be a long drive back to Texas, so sometimes, I would
just fly home. It’s like a car ride, but in the air and with a
better view. Look.”

I lean over to peer out the
window. “Wow,” I whisper. I’ve obviously never seen the world like
this, and I have to say, I like this part of flying. I’m in awe of
how everything looks. Tiny and vast at the same time. Okay, so
maybe flying isn’t so bad. I lean back into my seat, but rest my
head on Trace’s shoulder.

He kisses the top of my head
and whispers, “I love you, Britt.”

“Love you, too.” How did I
get so lucky? In the midst of the mental health crap I deal with, I
landed a supportive, sweet, caring, smart, gorgeous boyfriend who
is undeniably my rock in life. He’s the person I lean on when I’m
tired of supporting the heavy weight on my shoulders. He’s the
person who understands me and knows how to make me smile and laugh
when I definitely don’t feel like doing either.

Hopefully, I’m that kind of
person for him too. He’s been a saint with me during midterms. I
pray that if the situation were reversed, I’d be as good for him as
he was for me.

“When are your parents coming
again?” Trace asks, snapping me out of my thoughts.

“Week after next. Are you
nervous?” I lift my head to look at him.

“A little bit. Meeting the
parents is nerve-racking enough as it is, but considering our
history and everything, more so than usual.”

“They like you,” I remind
him.

“Yeah, as your therapist.
What about as your boyfriend?”

“They’ll still like you. Try
not to worry about it. They know you’re a good man.”

“They don’t know that,” he
dismisses.

“Well, I do! Trace, there’s
no way in hell that they can
not
like you. Former therapist,
current boyfriend, or not. Promise.”

He does a stupid little sigh,
but he nods. I hate that this is something that worries him,
especially when I know my parents won’t have an issue with him. He
closes his eyes and leans his head back against the seat.