Nepenthe (Bracing for Love #2) (15 page)

“I think those may be my favorite words to come out of your mouth.”

Olivia laughs, but I cut her off with a kiss. She tastes minty instead of like the two beers she had at the bar. Minty is definitely better. Olivia snakes her arms around my neck and tugs me even closer to her. I glide my hand down her side, stopping at her hip with a firm grip. All I want is to kiss her, nothing more, not tonight. I want to feel her mouth against mine, hear her short inhales of air in between, and cherish every time she pulls me closer. With my eyes closed and my lips on hers, all that exists in my world is Olivia.

She's the only person left standing, the only thing left shining bright enough to cover up the darkness, even if it's only for a little while. I kiss her with those broken pieces of my life, of myself. I kiss her as if I was whole again. Because right this second, I am, and it doesn't matter that by daylight, the cold truth will return. I kiss her until I'm near the point of wanting so much more it's about to kill me.

Olivia is grinning when I pull away, pressing myself into the back of the couch to take advantage of what little space I have.

“What?”

“Nothing.” The smile is still there, though.

I grant myself one last kiss on the corner of her mouth. “That's not nothing.”

“Maybe so. Let's watch TV.” She turns her head to the TV to look away. We lie there for a while before she asks, “Hey, did you take your night dose of your medicine?”

And the tall brick wall that built when I agreed to go out tonight, shutting out all my problems, making me temporarily forget they existed, comes tumbling down as they rush back to consume me.

YESTERDAY, I DIDN'T leave the house. I didn't get out of bed today either, except to quickly grab something to eat or drink or run to the restroom. My texts with Olivia were short, like the one I just sent her.

Olivia: Bad day?

Me: Yep.

No point in lying to her. She already knows with her see-into-my-soul shit. If I felt like it, I would laugh. I had a bad day without leaving my apartment, without talking to anyone. None of that was required.

Olivia: Want to do yoga?

Me: Nope.

Olivia: Video games?

Me: Nope.

Olivia: Want me to come over?

Me: Nope.

I'll be damned if she doesn't come anyway. She's pissed, too. I ignore her presence by leaning my back against the counter and taking another bite of my pizza. Nope means nope. I'm not in the mood to deal with anything more than the basics I have to do to continue surviving. Olivia stands in front of me and folds her arms over her chest, pushing her breasts up a bit.

Her glare could kill me if I cared she was glaring. Somewhere deep down in the land of normal-people emotions I have stored in a vault I can't open, I'm sure I do care. However, this Corey today doesn't.

“What makes you think shutting me out will help? That locking yourself in your apartment for two days will help?” she snaps.

I take my time chewing my bite and even take another before I answer, which has her gripping her arms to contain her fury. “I don't care.” Her eyes widen a bit and I clarify. “Today. I don't care today. Or yesterday. Tomorrow is still up in the air.”

“We're supposed to meet my uncle tomorrow,” Olivia curtly reminds me. She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and then reveals a much calmer look. She takes a step forward, removes the pizza from my hand, and drops it on the counter behind me. She grabs my face, forcing me to look at her. “Think of all you've done so far, Corey. The little victories you've achieved. Don't let them go to waste.”

Her words set me off without any warning. “Think positive? That's what you're telling me? Are you fucking kidding me, Olivia?” Her hands drop and I move away from her, my muscles coiled together too tightly. “If that worked, don't you think I wouldn't be taking pills twice a day or dealing with this shit at all?” I whirl around to see her drooping shoulders and unsure expression. “I don't want to be this way. There's no easy fix! If there's a fix at all!

“Why would I
choose
to be negative all the time to the point where I'm depressed as hell and having to see a psychiatrist? Why would I put myself through this? I can't think positive and make it all okay. Every damn day is a struggle, Olivia.”

The anger is back full force in her eyes. “You think I don't know that! I watch you deal with it, Corey. I can
see
it just as good as you
feel
it. All I wanted to do was remind you, so you wouldn't forget and get swamped in the negative. I wanted to remind you that you could do it.

“Don't get pissed with me like I don't know or understand. I'm the only one who's been able to help you! That should show you something. I told you I've seen someone go through it before. Don't yell at me and get mad with me! You're right. There is no easy fix, and I know that better than anyone. But you won't find it if you won't let me help! You can't expect me to let you push me away. I can't push
you
if I'm not here!

“You
have
to care, Corey,” she continues, her angry stance falling away to something more vulnerable. “It's the only thing saving you. If you don't care enough...” Olivia's voice shakes. Suddenly, she storms past me and runs out of my apartment.

Damn it. This is why she should have listened to me in the first place. Then we could have prevented this. No longer hungry, I sit on my couch and bounce my legs, thinking. What am I supposed to do? I'm antsy for ten minutes.

I know what I
want
to do, and that's good enough.

Standing, I leave my apartment and walk across the hall. I knock, but she doesn't answer. I try the knob, but it's locked.

“Olivia,” I call. “Let me in.”

“No! Leave me alone!” she shouts. “I'll see you tomorrow, so just leave me alone for tonight.” This time, her voice is closer. She has to be standing right on the other side. Sighing, I press my forehead against the doorframe. Do I do as she asked? It's the easy and simple answer. I kind of want to do that, but I feel terrible for upsetting her too.

“C'mon, Olivia. Open the door,” I plead. “Do you really not want to see me that badly?” Have I messed up worse than I thought? My stomach clenches and my blood runs colder than the frigid air. What if she never talks to me again? What if she wants to give up on me? What if she's tired of helping me? “Olivia,” I try again, my voice even lower with my dreadful thoughts. “Please. I've lost so much already. I don't want to add you to the list.”

The faint click of the door unlocking has me standing upright. I hold back my relief even though she opens the door. Doesn't mean she won't say something and then slam it in my face. Her frown, sad eyes, and the way she has her arms hugging herself makes me wish I could take back yelling at her.

“You're not going to lose me, Corey,” Olivia whispers.

I close the distance between us and hug my arms around her shoulders. She slips hers around my waist in return. “I'm sorry.”

“I forgive you,” she mumbles into my chest, so I can finally allow the relief to flood through me. “And I mean it. You won't lose me.”

There's only one thing I feel like I can say right now. “Can I stay?”

Olivia nods into my chest. I wait for her to release me before going to my apartment. After grabbing a few things, including the box of pizza, I go back over. The TV is paused like she was watching something before the mess happened. She's sitting up on the couch and glances over when I come in.

“Thought I would share.” Honestly, I'd still rather be at home, but the part of me that feels like a dick for hurting Olivia has me rooted here instead.

“I'll grab some drinks and napkins.”

While she does that, I place the rest of my things in the nearby chair and sit next to her vacant spot. Olivia returns, presses play, and we begin to watch some TV series on Netflix, eating in silence. Even though there is noise coming from the show, the silence is making me uncomfortable. She may be able use her see-into-my-soul shit on me, but I have no kind of radar or emotion detector when it comes to her.

“What is this?”

“
One Tree Hill
, season one, episode three. Have you ever watched it?”

I shake my head, finishing off the last bite of my slice. If I'm going to be watching some show with her, I might as well get comfortable. As soon as she finishes her pizza, I lay an arm around her shoulders and tuck her into my side.

Olivia runs a finger up and down my knee during the next episode, and I wonder if she can feel the raised skin of my scar from my surgery beneath the fabric of my pajama pants. Based on the words coming out of her mouth, I'm going with a yes.

“I know you miss it, but what was your favorite thing about football, aside from the game itself?” Her voice is tentative, but strong.

“Olivia,” I start, about to shut this train down.

“No. You're talking, Corey. I may have forgiven you for being a jerk earlier, but I haven't forgotten it. So, we're talking about something.”

“Fine.” I look away from her to the TV while I think. Besides playing, what do I miss? Everything. I miss all of it. She probably rather have me narrow it down and eventually, I have an answer. “I miss always having something to do and always having someone to do it with. I miss my brothers too.”

“What do you mean? About your brothers?”

“They were my teammates too. We worked out, we studied and did homework, we played, we talked about the games and practices, and we hung out together. We don't do any of that now.” My voice drops as I add with a sigh, “I'm too broken.”

She grabs my chin and makes me look at her. “Stop saying that. You are not broken. Makes it sound like you can't be put back together.” Her tone is full of authority and a declaration.

“Then what am I?”

My question catches her off guard, but she doesn't shy away from answering. “You fell, got hurt, and you're having trouble healing so you can't stand back up. But you
will
stand up again, Corey.”

I allow her words to rack around in my mind before letting them sink in completely. Maybe I can't see the light at the end of the tunnel yet. It doesn't matter whether I can or not. What matters is that Olivia is standing in the tunnel with me, holding an extra torch as I try and find my way out.

“Thanks,” I murmur, kissing her temple.

She's quiet for a bit before she says, “Can I ask you something?”

I chuckle. “When have you ever asked for permission?”

Her question must be serious because she only gives me a small smile. “What does it feel like knowing that your siblings don't really get it? That's why you don't tell them, right? Because you think they don't understand it enough? Would you talk to them if they did?”

My head shakes as an automatic answer. I have to think of a response before I can verbally reply, though. “No, I wouldn't. I'm grateful and I love that you understand me enough, but sometimes, it feels like it's a burden too. My siblings and I, we want things to be okay with all of us all the time. And if they aren't, we want to fix it immediately. That's not an option with me and I don't want to put that kind of weight on them.

“It sucks that they don't understand, but at the same time, I'm really glad because it means they haven't experienced something like this. I wouldn't ever want them to have to go through this, just for me to have a talking buddy.” Like a clap of thunder, I realize everything I don't wish upon my siblings, Olivia has been through. She was a bystander for someone suffering, but that's all she's said. “Olivia,” I begin, not sure I want to know, “who was it? The person you knew?”

Her face pales, causing my gut to twist and churn with nerves. She leans away from me, glancing down at her hands and then back to me. “I'm going to sound like such a hypocrite,” she starts. “I don't want to talk about that with you yet, so please don't make me. I promise I will, but not tonight.”

“Okay,” I quickly agree. She'll keep her promise, I'm certain, and I'm okay with waiting.

Olivia excuses herself to the restroom and I lie down, stretching out along the couch with a throw pillow behind my head. She doesn't even bat an eye when she comes back, just crawls to lie on her stomach on me, her legs between mine. We watch a few more episodes. I have to force myself to stop thinking about who it could have been. Luckily, I think, Olivia decides we need to talk some more.

She lifts her head and places her hands on my chest before resting her chin on top of them. “I really think you should see a therapist.”

“That's what I have you for, remember?”

“Yeah, but what if there's something you want to talk about, but not to me? Or what if you need to talk
about
me? A therapist can help you more. And you've gotten better at talking.”

“Only with you, though.” I still mostly lie to my siblings, and I don't have friends to lie to. The only person I talk to, that I want to talk to, is Olivia.

“Think about it some more, okay?”

I nod and we fall silent until she lifts her head again an episode later.