Nepenthe (Bracing for Love #2) (9 page)

Once I hit the top of the stairs, I decide to see if Olivia is home. I'll give her an update and then go crash at my place. I knock twice and a few seconds later, a guy wearing a hoodie with the logo of the university’s football team answers the door. He's a bulky guy; I recognize him. He's a football player for our school, I think his name is Ben, and he's standing in Olivia's apartment.

“I was looking for Olivia,” I manage, my throat closing up. This ass can do what I can't. He can play. I bet he doesn't even know how much of a privilege it is. He's everything I'm not. And I have no clue why he's in her apartment.

“Oh, she just went to the restroom. You could come in, I guess.” He seems unsure on his offer.

“No, it's okay.”

“Do you want me to tell her you stopped by?”

I shake my head. “No, thanks.” This way I can buy myself some time while I fall apart. This is why I ignore my teammates when they text. This is why I don't want anything whatsoever to do with the game. I can't handle it. All I see is what I lost every single time something pops up to remind me that football still exists for everyone else.

Before I can turn away and he can close the door, Olivia appears. “Hey, Corey. What's going on?”

“Nothing.” Her eyes narrow. “I gotta go.”

“You can stay. Ben was just about to leave.”

“Yep.” The guy disappears and returns seconds later with a book bag. “Thanks for studying with me, Liv.”
Liv?
“See ya in class.”

I step aside so he can leave. How sweet. Olivia was helping the poor football player study. Once he's gone, I fold my arms over my chest. “I didn't mean to interrupt your study session.”

“You didn't. It just ended. Are you going to come in?”

“No.” I don't feel like dealing with her anymore.

She eyes me for a second before shrugging. “Suit yourself. I'm going to do some yoga in about an hour and then play a video game. You're more than welcome to join me if you aren't stubborn and pissy later. Even if you still are, come. Maybe it'll make you feel better.”

“I'd feel better if I was a football player like Ben.” I'm done talking, so I turn and leave for my own special hell. I knew it was all about to crash again. This morning gave me a bit of hope that maybe it wouldn't hit so hard, but it was only wishful thinking.

I FEEL LIKE shit.

Whether it's from how I have an appointment with a psychiatrist in two days, ignoring Patrick's phone call, being ill with Olivia, or everything in general, I'm not sure. Maybe it's all of the above. I wallow in self-pity for a while until there's a knock on the door. I groan. Has to be Olivia. No one else comes to see me. Well, Patrick does, but only if he has to.

Sure enough, when I open the door, Olivia is standing on the other side, wearing yoga pants and a hoodie.

“Are you coming over? I won't even say one word if you do. But fair warning, I'm going to have plenty to say if you don't, and you can't lock me out because I know where your hiding spot is. So, what's it going to be, Corey?” She crosses her arms over her chest. I need to find a new place to hide my spare key.

I stare at her for a moment, trying to make a decision. To think, I kissed her this morning, and now I'm ready to slam the door in her face. “Have you already done your routine?” Please say yes.

“No, I was waiting for you.”

Shit. “Fine. I'll change, but not one word. Not even to tell me what to do. I can watch you and figure it out.”

She nods, smiles, and surprises me with a quick hug. Olivia points to herself and then her apartment before walking away. I laugh, shaking my head. No talking means hand gestures, I guess. The shitty feeling returns while I change and head over to her place. Her not talking could turn out to be a really good thing.

The coffee table has been moved and the mats are in place once again. Olivia has taken off her hoodie and tossed it on the couch. Warmer weather can't come fast enough. She has a great body. Too often, it's hidden beneath a hoodie. The girl wears them way too much, even in January.

Olivia keeps her promise, never speaking, but she laughs. Oh, does she laugh. More than the first time we did this. I don't even glare at her. Only shake my head and maybe give her a smirk depending on how much she's laughing. I like hearing her laugh. She should do it more often, but being around me doesn't really give her lots of opportunities. I'm only rainbows and sunshine about ten percent of the time.

She mixes it up some, doing poses we didn't do before, and they are a bit harder. That's why she's laughing so damn much. I'm even sweating a little by the time we're done. While I put the table back, she goes to the kitchen and returns with two bottles of water before starting the video game.

“You can talk now,” I tell her, hoping she won't make me regret it. “I may not do it often, but I can't stand for others to not talk for long.”

“Don't get pissed later, then. And how come?”

I shrug. “My sister doesn't talk when she's upset. Not getting into the story behind it, but that's why.” My siblings and I don't talk about our parents' murder often, and I'm not going to share that with her. “It's always bothered me, though.”

Olivia revs her engine as the countdown begins. “You're one of those annoying overprotective brother types, aren't you?”

“What? No.” I manage to get a lead right from the start. “It's called loyalty, taking care of each other, and being a family. My sister doesn't find it annoying either. None of us do.” Except when it interferes with my lying to them about how I'm doing. Then, it's slightly annoying.

“Damn it, Corey!” Olivia exclaims as I cross the finish line two seconds before she does. “You totally cheated. You got a head start.”

“My car didn't take off any sooner than yours. Don't be a sore loser.”

She glares at me before restarting. “Did you make the appointment?” Her tone is so casual that the importance of her question almost flies over my head.

“Yeah. That's why I stopped by earlier.”

“Dang it!” she mutters as she wrecks and I pass her. “I'm off my game tonight. Well, what happened?”

“What do you think? I came back 'pissy'.”

She laughs. “I should have known that was why. Yes!” Olivia passes me, bumps into me, and spins in circles as she crosses the finish line first.

“I got a referral. Go Friday.” I don't want to talk about it anymore. “Did you have a good day? Good studying session?” The moment I say it, I wish I hadn't. Not because she was studying with some guy, but because that guy was a football player. My guts twist as if someone just stabbed me in the stomach and turned the knife.

“Yeah, I did.”

Three words and I'm jealous of her. I want a good day too. But I can't flip a switch and make it happen. It's not that easy, or I'd flip it in a heartbeat.

“What time is your appointment Friday? Do you want me to go with you?”

“Nine in the morning, and no.”

“Okay, just thought I'd offer. Hey, what are you going to school for?”

What does that have to do with anything? “Political science.”

She laughs. “Really?” I nod. “Wouldn't have guessed that.”

Before I can think about what I'm saying, I ask, “What would you have guessed?”

“Something where you could still be around football.”

I tense. No. If my muscles freeze, my stomach turns, and my head wants to explode just from the word, how am I supposed to be around it again? I can't play. Why be around the game and settle for second best? I don't want that.

Olivia bumps into my car, making me spin out of control, and keeps on going. Even through our talking, she's determined to win. She leans her head on my shoulder while I debate if I will comment on that or not.

“Relax, Corey. You're too uptight all the time. I'm starting to kick your ass. See?” Olivia's car crosses the finish line by a good margin before mine does.

“Two out of four doesn't equal kicking my ass. It means we're even.”

“Then let's make it three out of five. It'll put me in the lead.”

For the last race, I let her win. I don't even try because I want her to beat me. The grin on her face that shows off her victory and throws it back in my face is worth it.

“There. I officially kicked your ass and now I'm hungry.” She turns off the game and TV, puts the controllers up, and I stand, about to go home. “Are you hungry? I'm in the mood for fries. Want to go with me to get some?”

Go with her or escape to my apartment? The day has been long enough and I just want to lie down. The weariness floods every bone in my body, anchoring me down even more when I realize I have to go to work tomorrow.

“No, I'm good. Thanks for offering, though.”

She looks a little disappointed, but I ignore it. “Okay.” Olivia walks me to the door. “See you later then.”

“Maybe I'll do yoga with you tomorrow,” I say as I walk across the hall and open my door before turning to look at her. She's smiling.

“Sounds good. And Corey?”

“Yeah?”

“Good job on making the appointment, and thanks for talking to me.”

I nod before disappearing inside my apartment. It feels ridiculous she would say such a thing about something that seems normal and easy for most people, but at the same time, it feels good that she's giving me a virtual pat on the back. After a quick shower, I climb into bed and let sleep take over while it's willing.

IF I THOUGHT I was on edge the past few days, I've been shoved off it today. This is what it must feel like to slowly lose your mind. Bits and pieces vanishing until there's nothing left but an empty skull. I survived another night of yoga and video games with Olivia. I survived work, and I've just sat down across from a psychiatrist. Olivia somehow knew today was going to be one of those days where it's hard to even sit up in bed.

She barged into my room and when I made no effort to get up, she started to tug me out of bed. There's some strength in her, that's for sure. It pissed me off, but here I am anyway. Deep down, I know this is where I need to be, where I want to be, but today is not the fucking day to do it.

The psychiatrist, Dr. Stewart, starts asking questions I'm in no mood to answer. What's been going on? How have I been feeling? When did it start? How long has it been this bad? Why do I think it's this bad? What's my mental health history? I give him the shortest answers possible, just enough information to get to the next step.

“Do you have a support system, Corey?”

“Sure. I have my siblings and a girl across the hall from me, I guess.”

“Tell me about your siblings. What do they know of your struggles?”

What the fuck does this have to do with anything?! “Two younger brothers and a younger sister. They don't know much. No one does, and I'd like to keep it that way. The girl, Olivia, she knows, but that's because she's got some weird see-your-soul shit going on. Can you help me or not?”

“Irritability is obviously a symptom,” he comments under his breath, almost smiling while he types into his little laptop.

Son of a bitch, he's about to piss me off. “I only came here because I'm sick of this. There's not a lot I can do or fix or change, but I can do something about this.” My voice conveys my desperation and then my uncertainty. “Right? I can be helped, can't I?” It's not until the words faintly leave my mouth that I realize I was hopeful thanks to Olivia and scared shitless that she may be wrong.

Dr. Stewart studies me in the same analyzing way that Olivia does. “Yes, you can,” he finally answers. “But in no way is it going to be easy or happen overnight. Depression is different for everyone. Some people go years without hitting their lows, and for others, they battle it every few months, or daily. You need to find someone who understands and you need to talk to them because you're going to need them. You're going to have to find strength when you don't feel like it, and you're going to have to fight like hell for the good days, but you can do it.

“Sounds like you've been doing a decent job so far to be dealing with it as long as you have. I definitely want you to start seeing a therapist.” I part my mouth to object, but he interrupts me. “You have issues, Corey. Big ones, and don't try to deny them. You're the one who can't even tell your doctor that a football injury triggered your setback.”

My eyes widen.

“I attended Salem University once upon a time, even played football myself, and I like to watch it now that I don't. I recognized you the moment you walked in and I read the name on the file. Corey, it's not uncommon for athletes to feel the exact same way you do right now after having their dream taken from them without any warning. Because you already had depression issues before certainly didn't help when it happened either.

“My point is you aren't alone in this, but you have to talk to someone. Anyone. If you want to talk to a stranger, drive around the city and find a waitress to spill your sorrows to. Whatever you need to do to open up and get this stuff out is what I want you to do.” He pauses, keeps his gaze locked on mine, and adds, “If you want to get back in control of your life, that's part of what you have to do. You have to have a support system. You have to learn how to talk about these things.”