Page 42 of Finding Delaware

“I guess.”

“What gifts did you get?”

Squinting over at her, I scoff. “Weed. Obviously.”

Thanks, Christian.

She flashes me a smile. “Obviously. And from your parents?”

“Socks and a bath towel from Maisie. Nothing from my father.”

Unless you count the knuckle sandwich he gave me.

“Is that normal for them?”

Rolling my eyes at the atypical shrink question, I shrug and return to the window. “It's...whatever.”

Honestly, it’s the first Christmas gift Maisie had gotten me in nearly a decade, so there’s that. The bath towel was soft, at least.

“Anything from your stepdad or stepbrother?”

My throat closes at the mention of Huck, and I grit my teeth as I shake my head. I can’t bring myself to tell her about the brand-new motocross jacket Aaron picked out for me.

“Now, let’s talk about what happened on New Year’s Eve.”

Let’s fucking not, Doc.

Blowing a dirty strand of hair out of my eyes, I let my head fall back against the cushion to gaze at the ceiling. “You wouldn’t happen to have a smoke, would you?”

Duh. Of course, she doesn’t.

Doctor Hart raises a thin brow and sits back in her seat but says nothing, waiting for me to start the conversation.

“Not much to talk about. I got caught smoking weed in the house, and the Good Bishop kicked me out. That’s it.”

Five months. I made it five months before he gave up on me, too.

She taps her pen before writing something down. “Bishop Davis kicked you out, or your mother did?”

“It was a joint effort,” I respond with a sneer.

“According to the police report, you and your mother fought. Is that correct?”

Fuck, this woman’s nosy.

“Not really a fight. We yelled at each other.”

She glances up. “Is that not a fight?”

“No. A fight involves fists. We had an argument that she blew out of proportion because she never wanted me there in the first place.”

“What makes you say that?”

My head pushes back into the cushion again. “Because. She had no interest in my life up until she remarried. It was his idea to make us all live under one roof in the first place.”

“So you were estranged?”

Nah, nope. Not talking about my shitty childhood. If I’m forced to talk, I’ll talk, but only about the shit I need to.

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