Nepenthe (Bracing for Love #2) (22 page)

Me: :)

Her response is quick.

Olivia: :(

Me: Why :(?

Olivia: Bad day. Going to bed.

She had a bad day? Isn't she supposed to come tell about it then? Maybe she decided not to since I told her I wouldn't see her until Monday. Damn it. What if she needs me and I'm too busy enjoying spending time all by myself for her to come and say so?

Me: Want to come over and stay here with me? Or me go there?

Olivia: No

No? A bad feeling settles in my gut. That's not like Olivia at all. How bad was her day? I want to go over there and check on her, but she doesn't want me around tonight. I'm supposed to respect that. That sounds like something a good boyfriend would do, I guess.

Two hours pass before I can't take it anymore, slipping on my shoes and grabbing a hoodie. In five seconds, I've crossed the hall and knocked on her door three times. She doesn't answer. Damn it. This is why I either need a key or she should leave her spare under the mat. I was hoping that by some chance she wouldn't be asleep. I want to see her and make sure she's okay, because it didn't sound like it.

I knock again in one last effort, praying for a miracle. My prayers are answered because the door opens, a frowning, heartbroken-looking Olivia on the other side. She's got bedhead going on, but her eyes are puffy and red. She's been crying, but she looks like she just woke up too. Why is she crying?

Why did she frown when she saw me?

“Corey? What are you doing?” Her voice has a vulnerability in it that's not usually there.

“What's wrong?” I ask, placing my hands on her waist and tugging her closer to me. Her eyes widen like she's been caught, but then it's gone as quickly as it appeared.

She steps away from me, waving her hand in dismissal. I don't know what bothers me more. The fact she stepped away from me or the words that come out of her mouth next. “Nothing. I'm fine. Bad day and a nightmare, that's all. I only got up for a glass of water. What are you doing over here?”

A nightmare that terrified her so much she was crying in her sleep? “You don't look fine,” I reply softly, ignoring her question. And this bothers me. A lot. Way more than I was expecting. “Let me sleep over,” I blurt out. “In case you have another nightmare,” I add, as if I can protect her and prevent them.

Olivia almost smiles. She looks exhausted, and I wonder how bad her day and nightmare were. After a pause, she nods. Quickly, I grab my spare, lock up my apartment, and then follow her. I watch as she pours a glass of water and downs it before heading to her room.

Her bedroom is Olivia through and through. There's rolled-up yoga mats in the corner with exercise DVDs, a hamper filled to the rim with clothes, and a stack of more video games with another gaming console. She crawls into bed without waiting even a second for me. Her eyes close before I can toe out of my shoes and take off my hoodie.

Olivia's back is facing me when I slip underneath the sheets. Whether she wants me to or not, I take a risk and tug her to my chest. Luce used to have nightmares from our parents' murders. She would wake up crying, terrified, and looking devastated. Olivia was crying, and heartbreak can pass for devastated, so she fits two of the three. Maybe it wasn't an ordinary nightmare and it ties to a real-life event, like with Lucy. What if she was dreaming of that Aaron person again? I nearly forgot about it, but now, it's all I can thinking about.

“Are you sure you're okay, Olivia?” I gently ask.

“Yeah, I'm just tired,” she whispers.

How many times have I told that lie to get out of talking? To prevent someone from asking me what's wrong? To keep people in the dark about how badly I was doing?

“You can talk to me too, you know.”

“I know,” she replies, but it sounds like another lie. “It was a long, bad day combined with an even worse nightmare. That's all. Let's go to sleep.”

“Okay.”

Only, I don't go to sleep. I can't. Thanks to being this way myself, I can spot someone who is avoiding talking and lying about it, which is exactly what she's doing. Something is going on with her, and she doesn't want to tell me. I'm hurt a hell of a lot that she doesn't trust me as much as I've trusted her. More than I expected. Maybe it'll take time like it did with me. I'm sure that's it.

Either way, I stay awake, waiting to see if she'll have another nightmare. Possibly one about Aaron, whoever that may be. After a couple of hours, I get thirsty. I carefully crawl out of bed for a glass of water. I probably couldn't sleep if I wanted to. Olivia's actions tonight have me so distracted and wound up. Why won't she talk to me?

The cool liquid doesn't do much to soothe me, so I return to her bedroom. I stop short in the doorway when I see her. Olivia's frowning in her sleep, tears spilling down her face. I only know because the girl has a nightlight, and it's highlighting her face. I take a step forward to wake her when she sobs, “Aaron, don't. Please, don't do this.”

Her words freeze me.

Aaron.

She
is
having another nightmare about him. If she has recurring dreams about him, he has to be a real person then. But they aren't dreams. They're nightmares. Eyes still closed, Olivia's arm reaches out to my empty spot as her breathing becomes more erratic with her crying.

“Corey,” she cries out. “Not you too.
Please
.” That last word is a heartbroken plea that shatters my own heart. I'm in her dreams? Her
nightmares
? Her hand closes in a fist over the covers before gliding up, like she's searching for me.

I can't stand to watch anymore. My feet move me forward until I'm back in bed with her, pulling her into my arms, and calling her name softly to wake her. She slightly frowns as her eyes blink open slowly. It deepens when I wipe away her tears.

“You had another nightmare,” I whisper, wanting desperately to ask her about it. “Do you remember it?”

She pauses, which makes me brace for either the truth or a lie. “No. Were you already awake?

“Yeah, went to get some water. When I came back, you were crying, so I woke you up.” If she's lying, then I feel like I should keep her talking in her sleep to myself.

Olivia wraps her arms around me like I'm going to disappear into thin air. “I'm glad you're here with me.” Her voice is so low, I almost don't hear her. She nuzzles her face into my neck and her cheeks are cool from her tears.

“Not going anywhere,” I reply, placing a tender kiss on the top of her head.

She snuggles closer to me as the exhaustion starts settling in. I need some sleep before work tomorrow. I wait until her breathing evens out and her body relaxes until I allow myself some rest.

MY JOB DOESN'T bring me any peace. I woke up two more times during the night to Olivia crying and making those same pleas in her sleep. Each time, she told me she didn't remember them. Each time, she said it after hesitating. I don't like her lying to me, especially after seeing the pain in her eyes. I don't know what I'm supposed to do about it, though. She obviously doesn't want to talk about it. She might be comfortable pushing me, but I don't know if I want to do that to her.

At lunch, I check my messages, hoping to have one from her.

Olivia: Can I stay with you this week?

All week? Is something wrong with her apartment again? Or does this have to do with her nightmares?

Me: Yeah.

Olivia: Thanks. :)

I guess it's a good thing I got rid of the urge to spend time by myself.

BY THE TIME I have my next appointment with Ms. Cynthia, I'm grumpy. Olivia has had at least one nightmare every night this week that wakes me up. Sometimes, she'll wake me up, give me freaking puppy dog eyes, and ask if I'll play the racing game with her because she can't sleep. It's not like I tell her no either. I need more sleep than what I'm getting, though, and I wonder how I ever operated before when I was getting even less than I am now.

“Looking a bit rough today, Corey,” Ms. Cynthia comments as we take our respective seats.

“Rough week,” I reply.

“Well, let's start with that. What's been going on? Having trouble sleeping?”

I rub my eyes, fighting off the rising need for a nap. I've been up for a while since I had to go into work early, but Olivia woke me up three times last night. “Sort of. Olivia's been staying with me and she's been having some nightmares, so haven't gotten as much sleep. Everything else is okay.”

“Good. I hope you both start getting better sleep.” She takes a slightly wheezy inhale. “How have you been feeling?”

Squeezing my eyes close to rein in my temper, I say, “I just said everything else is okay.”

“Define okay.”

“Okay as in things don't suck, but aren't great either. I'm in the middle and easily agitated.” I give her a pointed look, which she returns with a small smile.

“That's because you need more sleep and you're moody. How long has it been since you've hit a low? How frequent were they before?”

“Um, I don't know. Been a couple weeks, I think.” With her last question, I realize there is a bit of a pattern. “Depends. When I was playing, it was every few months, and I'd hate everything for anywhere from a week to two months. Until January, I was in a 'low' for a year and have slipped a few times since, I guess. Every few weeks. I don't think I ever truly crawl out of it, though.”

She nods and jots down notes onto her legal pad. “What are some things you have coming up in the future to look forward to?”

“I'm going to see my siblings next weekend before they go on spring break.” Ms. Cynthia waits for me to add more, so I rack my brain. “My birthday is next month.”

“What about school? I believe you were dropped this semester?”

I nod. I haven't thought about school at all. Do I want to go back and get a degree? “I love my job,” I blurt out. “Like really love it. More than football, so I don't know about school. I never intended on using that degree because I was going to play. That's not what I wanted to do.”

“All your hopes and dreams were with football.”

Leaning forward, I place my elbows on my knees and clasp my hands together, resting my chin on top of them. “Yes. Both of my brothers play too. My dad signed us all up and he knew I had the talent to make it someday. Football was all I had.”

“And you lost it.”

Does she have to keep stating the obvious? How is it helpful? “Yeah.”

“Football was how you coped.”

“Yes.”

“You need a new way to cope. That's what we're going to focus on today. Some things, you can't control, Corey. You don't need to as long as you can fight and never give up. When the depression hits you again, you have to try your hardest to find something, one thing, to focus on to pull you through it. One thing you can cling to and won't let go. Find one positive thing from each day and cherish it. There will always be at least one thing, so find it. I know it'll be hard, but that's what you need to do.

“There's not really a prevention method either. Your medications will help and can be adjusted, but you need to always be prepared. Stay active if it makes you feel better. Be social at least once a week. Don't isolate yourself. If it's going to come and make a bed in your home, then don't feed it. If you give in, that's okay. Don't make it a habit, though. You're going to have to find a reserve of strength and do what you don't want to do. In the end, it'll help.”

I nod because I don't know what I'm supposed to say. This session is lasting forever.

“Is there something you want to talk about, Corey?”

Instinct takes over as I shrug. Ms. Cynthia raises a white brow. She stares me down until I run a hand over my face. Damn it.

“Olivia's nightmares are bothering me.” She doesn't ask why. She waits for me to explain. “She cries and she...talks.” Should I be telling her this? Am I breaking some invisible trust bond with Olivia by talking about her?

“What does she say?” Ms. Cynthia urges.

“It's always the same thing. She says,” I pause and clear my throat to clear away my uneasiness. “She says, 'Aaron, don't. Please, don't do this.' And then she'll add, 'Corey. Not you too. Please.' She tells me that she doesn't remember them, but I think she's lying. She got pissed because I didn't tell her I made the first appointment with you. Told me she was upset because if I'm supposed to be able to talk to her, why didn't I tell her? She's not talking to me either, and I don't know if I should make her. I want her to come to me willingly.

“If she's the person I can talk to, even when I don't want to, then I want to be that person for her too. Sometimes, she has to push me, but that's what works for me. It's what I need. I don't know what the hell Olivia needs. I feel like I should know, but I don't. Not one clue. And that bothers me.

“I should wait until she's ready, I guess. She told me once she was a bystander to someone she knew who has depression. I asked her about it and she asked me not to push, to wait and she'll eventually tell me. I think Aaron was that person for her, but I don't have any clue who he is.” My stomach flips and flops. “I don't think it's family. It bothers the hell out of me that I don't know and she won't tell me. She's been with me for a week straight and hasn't said a word.”