Page 2 of Just This Once

Becausewhatever.

Not even Thane was going to coax another word from my mouth. And Thane was pretty much the only person who could get me to do anything, like convince me to attendgriefcounseling and come to these dumb meetings every week in the first place.

Not that I was ever going to actually participate, but I was here. For Thane.

I went directly to the chair I’d claimed as mine and slumped down moodily.

And from there, I became vastly interested in my hands, prepared to ignore my way through the next ninety minutes, per my usual, until my sentence was over.

“Alright,” Matt announced at some point, clapping and breaking into my fog. “Everyone’s here. Let’s get started.”

I glanced up to discover that the other five members of my group had arrived.

My fellow grievers.

I didn’t want to like any of them. But the little shits were starting to grow on me; it was annoying as hell.

To my left, we had Damien Archer. Too shy.

Then there was Foster Union, the people pleaser.

And next to him slouched Hudson Ivey, future stoner in the making.

On the other side of Matt sat Keene Dugger. I swear, this kid was so hyper he must drink nothing but energy drinks or straight caffeine for breakfast. I wouldn’t be surprised if he turned into a cartoon character one of these days and just started bouncing off the walls like a rubber ball.

And lastly was Alec Younger, the way-too-sweet-for-his-own-good goofball.

Thane seemed to fit in with the group perfectly. But he could make friends with anyone, so I wasn’t surprised.

None of them had ever attempted to talk to me, though. Probably because of my glare. Thane said I had an epic glare.

“So, Alec…” Matt began, making the youngest member of the group shrink lower in his seat.

Alec had turned nine about half a year ago, and this week was the one-year anniversary of his father’s death. The kid had rich brown hair full of crazy curls and the brightest blue eyes I’d probably ever seen in my life.

All he talked about was the last movie he’d watched or the next hewantedto see. He’d made me actually curious enough to go to the theater with Thane forGuardians of the Galaxyafter he’d raved about it.

Stupid movie had caused me to smile. And laugh.

I wasn’t a fan of enjoyment anymore. So I majorly held that against Alec. I didn’t deserve to feel suchpositiveemotions after killing my parents.

“I believe you said last week that you’d be ready to share your story today,” Matt told Alec in a distracted voice as he consulted his notes. “Do you still feel like talking about your…?” He flipped a page on his clipboard, trying to figure out who Alec had lost in his life, and I rolled my eyes.

His dad, dumbass. He’d lost his dad.

I swear. This guy was so lame. You’d think he’d be able to memorize at least that much about us. There were only seven kids in the group—six if you excluded Thane, who was only here as moral support for me and hadn’t actually lost anyone. It shouldn’t be that hard to remember the deaths we were trying to deal with.

“My dad,” Alec supplied when Matt floundered for too long.

“Yes,” Matt cheered and pointed in congratulations as if applauding Alec for remembering his own loss. Somebody get that boy a lollipop; he actually knew who he was mourning.

“What can you tell us about him?” Matt prodded. “How did he die? Was he sick? In a car accident?”

“No.” Alec shook his head. “He just…died.” His shoulders lifted briefly, letting us know he wasn’t sure what else there was to say about it. “Like, he just—he clutched his chest and fell over. Dead.”

“Oh no…” Matt set a hand against his own chest.

I lifted one eyebrow and sent Thane a look to let him know Matt’s dramatics were off-the-charts terrible.

---