Chap. 39

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Shane's POV

"Take your meds," Momma King reminded me, as she fixed me a smoothie.

I opened the bottle of antidepressants, and pulled out the last one. I looked over at Momma King, who was engrossed in making the smoothie.

I popped two pain pills and the last antidepressant, putting the bottles back into the medicine cabinet. I pushed the empty antidepressant bottle to the back.

"You should be getting close to a refill on your antidepressants, right?" Momma King asked.

"I still have a few left," I answered.

"Alright, well don't forget to tell me when you're out. I have to call your psychiatrist for a refill."

"You got it."

She started the blender and I couldn't help but think back to Nathan and I's conversation.

I shook it off, turning to head to my seat at the kitchen table, but my dad was sitting there.

"What are you doing here?" I asked.

"We have therapy this morning," dad said, tossing an apple up and down. "And since you skipped our last session, we need to head in a little earlier than usual."

"I'm not going anywhere with you."

"Shane," Momma King called behind me. "Remember what we talked about."

I ground my jaw, closing my eyes for a moment. "Fine dad, I'll go with you."

"Great," dad said, standing up. "Let's get a move on."

I took my finished smoothie from Momma King, shooting her a glare.

She smiled at me and kissed my cheek. "Love you bunches."

I rolled my eyes and followed my dad out to the car.

"No crutches?" dad asked.

"My physical therapist said I don't have to use them anymore," I muttered, staring out the window.

"I know you're unhappy with me," dad said. "But I'm only trying to do what's-"

"If you want these next few hours to go well, you'll shut up," I warned him, pulling out my phone.

"I'm only trying to-"

I plugged my headphones into my ears, cranking up my music to drown him out.

We were the first patients to the clinic, and I was immediately called back to speak with the therapist.

"She'll be in a moment," the nurse promised.

I nodded, plopping down at the table. Alicia, the therapist, had laid out a new puzzle for me. I immediately started on it, humming to myself.

"Hello," Alicia said, coming into the office. "Glad to see you back." She took her usual seat. "Would you like to tell me what happened last time?"

"My dad and I got into an argument," I said, as I continued to put together the border of the puzzle.

"About what?"

"My medication and my mom."

"I think it's time you tell me about your mom," Alicia said.

"I knew you were going to say that," I said, without looking up from the puzzle.

"Tell me about your mom."

I stopped working on the puzzle, looking up at her. "Tell you what about her?"

"Tell me about your relationship."

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