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I snort. “You mean Angie, right?”
Her body shakes with laughter. “No, I said it right. Both of them. Lucy is fun.”
“Hardly. She’s hateful,” I accuse with a grin, and she continues to giggle.
“No, she is awesome. Really, she even threatened me if I hurt you.”
That has me raising my head. “Really?”
“Yes.” Her eyes are dancing with laughter, but I still have a hard time believing that.
“My sister? That’s crazy ’cause she didn’t threaten Claire or Baylor.”
“Well, she did say you were her favorite.”
“Damn right,” I say confidently before kissing her chin. “Maybe I do like her.”
“Oh, hush.” She smacks my arm. “But really, I had a blast. Made my shit day better.”
“It was shit?”
She shrugs. “Just been off.”
“Really? You seemed fine when I saw you.”
“Yeah, but then my mom called, and talking to her just exhausted me. Apparently, my dad forgot to buy my ticket for the game during my trip to New Jersey in two weeks.”
“I thought your whole family was gonna be there?”
“Exactly, but the excuse was he forgot mine ’cause he didn’t know what was going on, but it’s whatever. And then she brought you up but didn’t even want to know anything about you. It’s just annoying.”
Tightening my hold on her, I kiss the side of her mouth. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s whatever,” she says again, but I can tell it hurt her feelings. I don’t blame her. I would be upset too, and shame on them for making her feel like that.
“Maybe you shouldn’t go to New Jersey.”
She looks up, moving her fingers along the hair that’s hanging in my eyes. “Yeah, I considered that, but I have a doctor’s appointment I have to go to.”
“For?”
She pauses, her fingers twirling my hair, and I wait. Briefly meeting my gaze, she looks away quickly, and I know she is holding back again. I want to shake her, tell her I’m here to listen, but she is silent as she plays with my hair. “Avery?” I ask and she shrugs.
“Just doctor stuff, nothing to worry about.”
That makes my eye twitch, and I take ahold of her hand, capturing her gaze. “What for? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she insists. “It’s just my therapist. She wants to see me one last time before I transfer down here.”
Therapist? Okay.
“Okay,” I say slowly, waiting for her to go on. But it appears she isn’t going to. “Why do you go to a therapist?”
Swallowing hard, she looks up at me and shrugs. “For therapy.”
I try not to glare, but come on. Really? “No shit, Sherlock. For what?”
“Um, well, just stuff. I have issues.”
