Lucas makes a face, but for once in his life he keeps his mouth shut. “Yeah, I remember that dude. He was a cool guy. I was bummed when he vanished. Sorry.”
I’m a zombie, shaking my head, telling them their words are okay when they’re anything but. We’re tip-toeing around one another more than usual. It’s like they don’t know how to act around me anymore either.
I’m jealous of my siblings. They got to know him, at least better than I did, and it’s unfair. That time should’ve been spent with me, getting to know me. Jason wasn’t anything to my siblings other than my dad’s ‘cool business partner.’
We sit quiet for a while. I catch Carson and Luke eyeing one another, like, ‘say something, do something.’ I can’t take it anymore. I take matters into my own hands.
“He was an addict,” I say out of nowhere. Talk about breaking the tension. “I guess that’s why I am the way I am.” I shrug, not sure how to feel or what to do with myself.
“Flynn,” Caron’s voice is motherly. She reaches her hand out to comfort me, but I don’t want comfort right now. I want answers. I want things to go back to the way they were before. I don’t want anything to change, but everything is already different.
“Mom and Dad are fighting now. At least, they were when I left the house. She’s lied to of us for all these years.” They go quiet again, and I want to shake some sense into them. Say something, anything! “What do you think will happen to them?”
“Nothing. I think they’ll work it out,” Lucas says.
“You didn’t see Dad. He was pissed and devastated. He…he wouldn’t even look at me.” That gets their jaws to drop.
“Flynnie, he’ll get over it. You’re still his little girl,” Carson tells me.
“I’m not though. I never have been.”
I could use a goddamn drink right now. Is that because my coping mechanism of choice is my addiction? Or is it acceptable in this instance because I’m experiencing the biggest mind-fuck of my life right now? Where’s the distinction and how do I toe the line?
“When is your next therapy session?” my sister asks. My pulse thumps at the mention of therapy which brings me thoughts of Liam. God, I could use his cock as a distraction right now.
“In a couple days.” Though I can see my therapist whenever I damn well please. Break-up be damned.
“At least you can talk about this with him. I’m sure he’ll have some good insight for you.” She’s trying to be supportive, but talking about therapy is the worst approach she could take. Mom and my birth dad are the entire reason I’m in therapy anyway. I wouldn’t be who I am if she didn’t cheat on my dad. I wouldn’t be so fucked up if I was a real Fletcher.
Fuck. I don’t even know my real last name.
“Do either of you happen to know what Jason’s last name was?”
They shake their heads. Both of their expressions turn sad, though Carson’s has a heavier undertone of worry.
“I need to get out of here.” I dig through my bag to find my keys and my purse.
“Where are you gonna go?” Carson asks me, sinking into full-fledge mom mode.
“Out. I need a drink.” Fuck the consequences. Fuck the medication. It’s either a drink or a fuck or, if I’m lucky, both.
My sister’s eyes turn wide and she snaps her head over to Luke.
“I’ll go with you,” my brother offers. I shake my head, ready to tell him no, but he’s not hearing it. “Flynn, don’t fight with me. Not now. I’ll even drive.”
Whatever. At least then I don’t need to risk a DUI.
Unlocking my phone, I catch a missed text from Liam.
Liam: how’d it go with your parents?
Flynn: well I’m headed to get shitfaced. How do you think?
I throw my phone in my bag, not even bothering to check his response. Like he said, I can wait to talk to him about it in therapy.
Forty-five minutes later I’m at my favorite bar with my brother as a bodyguard.
It’s a little too late when I realize I should’ve checked my fucking phone.
Twenty-One
Liam
On a whim, I show up at the bar Flynn frequents. I can’t let her be there alone in her current state. I have no idea if this is where she is tonight, but I had to try.
I’m worried about her and she hasn’t responded to any of my texts. Miranda may have forced my hand in ending things with Flynn, but my feelings haven’t ceased because I stopped sleeping with her. Plus, she is my patient. Even though I compartmentalize and store the Flynn I slept with and the Flynn who is my patient in separate boxes, I can’t help but understand that she’s mentally unwell. I have an urge to help her, to protect her. Both as her doctor and as…more. Whatever that may be.
I walk up to the bar so I can at least sit down and survey the room. I’m not going to scour the place like a madman, even though a large part of me wants to. The bartender comes up to me, a flirty little thing with a low-cut top, but I brush her away. I’m not here to drink and flirt.
I scan the room, which seems
