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And that’s not fair to him.
If I really want to do this, if I want to try to give him my heart, I have to give him all of it. I have to be honest. I just do. But it’s so freaking hard. Things may be easy between us, but admitting things I’ve done everything to hide and never talk about is frightening. I don’t even like talking to my therapist about it, which is probably why I’m dragging ass to my car. I don’t really like the new one here in Nashville, which is probably the only thing I don’t like in this state. But my mom says he’s the best and I should keep going. That I need to go.
When my phone starts to ring, I pull it out and grin.
Think of the devil and he shall appear.
“Hey, Mom.”
“Hey, honey, what are you up to?”
“About to drive to Dr. Glasscoy’s office.”
“Oh, have you started to like him?”
“Eh, he’s not Dr. Perry.”
“Oh, you’ll get used to him. But actually, Dr. Perry is the reason I’m calling,” she says and my heart picks up. What does my old therapist have to do with her calling? Of course, within seconds, I’ve already decided I’m dying from a rare brain defect. Thankfully before I start crying, my mom says, “So don’t get upset, but your dad forgot to get your ticket for the opening game.”
I roll my eyes as I start my car. “But Matty said he bought ours.”
“No, he bought Laurence’s and Matty’s, but not yours because he was unsure what your plans were.”
“Whatever,” I say, annoyed. “I’m good. I won’t come.”
It’s not like I wanted to anyway.
“Avery Rose, don’t overreact. I got your plane ticket—I want to see you,” she says softly. “I miss you so.”
“I miss you,” I say and I do, but I wish I missed her more. I wish I had to talk to her daily, like Jace does. Or even my brothers or my dad, but I don’t. And apparently, they don’t need to talk to me either. What else is new, though?
“So Dr. Perry wants to see you one last time, get your meds right before you transfer to Dr. Glasscoy permanently. I think we were all hoping you’d have come home by now.”
Glaring at the car in front of me, I say, “Nope, I love it here.”
“That’s good,” she says, but I don’t think she means it. “So things are good?”
“Yeah, they are great.”
“Good, so you met someone?”
I pause. How did she know that? “Yeah. His name is Jace.”
“Yeah, Matty told me about it.”
I wait for more. The, who is he? Is he cute? Do you like him? But nothing. She says nothing. And why do I want to cry? Fighting back the tears, I say, “Yeah, I haven’t spoken to Matty or anyone in the last couple weeks.”
“Everyone is so busy, you know that,” she says and that annoys me. She’s always making excuses for them, for herself. Everyone is always so busy, can’t ever make time for me. But yet, they’ve been trying to force me to go to a game where I’ll sit in the corner while they all talk and watch the game. Then we’ll go to dinner where they’ll all talk hockey, and I’ll sit there. The outcast. Lord knows no one asks me how I’m doing or what I want. Ask me how my music is going, nope. Nothing. I’m nothing to these people.
Fucking awesome.
“Yeah,” I say, letting out a breath. “So I gotta go. I’m here.”
“Okay, talk to you later. Love you.”
“Yeah, love you,” I say before hanging up the phone, but I don’t get out of the car. Looking up at the building that holds my doctor’s office, I don’t want to go in. I don’t want to sit there and talk about nothing because that’s what I will do. I won’t talk about what happened. There is no need to. It’s over, and I haven’t had the urge to hurt myself in months. I’m good. I don’t need this place.
Biting the inside of my cheek, I look down at my phone, wanting so badly to call Jace. I didn’t tell him I had therapy today, so I don’t know why I want to call him and bitch about going. He wouldn’t understand, and then he’d want to know why. I can’t call my mom because she’ll just force me to go. I have no one to call, no one who would understand.
