Damaged: The Dillon Sisters by Layla Frost (good story books to read .txt) 📕

had shifted from woe to humblebrags.

My money was on Jared.

Hopefully she didn’t have any plant babies that’d be boner killers for him.

“He’s not a patient,” I said before she could remind me of the rule that wasn’t technically a rule, but I’d still get shit if I’d broken it. “We met outside while I was waiting for the bus.”

Though that didn’t stop him from enabling me.

Or stop me from quickly becoming codependent.

Her smile of approval returned. “Then that really is terrific. Tell me about him.”

I paused and tried to figure out how to succinctly describe someone who made me feel alive for the first time ever. Since I wasn’t about to tell her about how well he understood my jacked-up mind or how he loved my scarred body, I shared the only other thing I could think of.

“He cooked me tacos and bought my favorite salsa and hot sauce to go with them.”

“That’s a win. Is this your first relationship since you’ve been here?”

“Pretty much.” Shortly after I’d moved, I’d had a casual thing with a vet tech who used to volunteer at the shelter, but that fling had long ago flung.

“You didn’t balk at me calling it a relationship,” she pointed out, jotting a note in her book about me. It could probably be a whole series if I told her my life story.

Actually, it could probably be an encyclopedia on fuck-uppedness, leading to multiple case studies and a TV special.

It’d air on Hallmark if things with Alexander stayed so perfect or Lifetime if shit went off the deep end.

When all I did was shrug, she prompted, “How are you feeling about that?”

Such a stereotypical shrink question.

“It’s good. He’s good. I’m good. We’re good. Clearly in need of a thesaurus, but ya know… Good.” I’d reached the end of what I was willing to divulge, so I switched the subject. “Aria adopted a dog.”

And she paid fifteen-fucking-grand for him and a firefighter.

He’s totally worth the cost.

Muppet, not the firefighter.

Although, I hope the firefighter is, too.

“Did she get him from you?”

It took me a moment to realize she was asking about Muppet and not the firefighter.

“Yeah. I’m not sure which one she got, but I know they were from the puppy mill. I told Aria I’d help puppysit while she works, so I’m gonna pick him up after this and take him to the rescue with me.”

In everything I’d shared, that bit of info seemed to be the most shocking. The friendly-yet-blasé mask she wore slipped. “That’s major.”

I lifted a shoulder in a half-assed shrug. “It’s no big deal, Sue already said it was cool for me to bring Muppet.”

Technically her text had offered to convert her office into a puppy utopia specifically for him as a thank you to Aria, but that was a mouthful.

“Not that.” She finished making a note before setting the book down. “You volunteered to have someone rely on you.”

“It’s Aria,” I said simply, as if that explained everything. Which it kinda did.

“But you’re allowing it to happen long-term. You promising your time means you’re acknowledging you have that time to promise.”

Well, shit.

I hadn’t even thought of that. Like Alexander had said, I’d been too wrapped up in the fiction of what could’ve happened to see the fact of what had.

I hadn’t held myself back for fear of letting her down if I died—by my own hand or otherwise. The specter of Death hadn’t made my decisions for me.

Stunned, I sat back, and Dr. Linda leaned forward. “This is great, Briar. You’re taking control of your life. I’m proud of you.”

I was proud of me, too. Even more so when her shining a spotlight on the deeper implication of my actions didn’t send a huge tidal wave of panic through me.

Just a small one.

A kiddie pool’s wave of panic.

At the risk of self-sabotaging all that progress and proudness, I brought up the topic I’d been dreading. “Does all this progress mean I don’t have to add another group session?”

Dr. Linda grabbed her book again—never a good sign. Tapping her pen in a way that was grating and anxiety inducing, she was quiet for a second. “What about just an extra session every other week?”

And what about I flee with my money tree to my own personal deserted island for sun, sand, and sex with Alexander?

Wait.

Could he actually do that? I wouldn’t let him, but could he?

“Yeah, every other week sounds okay,” I agreed since we both knew I didn’t really have a choice anyway.

I’d promised Aria I’d stick with the program, however intensive they wanted to make it.

Plus, for the first time in a long time, I wanted to get better.

You’re in control.

Alexander’s words flitted through my head.

Yeah.

Maybe one day.

_______________

“WHAT DO YOU think, Muppet? You like it here when you know you can leave?”

When we’d first arrived, Muppet must’ve recognized the rescue because he’d flipped out. Thankfully, I’d been able to calm him down with an extended race through the dog run.

An anxious mess like his Auntie Briar and a runner like his mama.

He really was made to be a Dillon.

Now that we were packing up to head home and wait for Aria, the brown doodle was a bundle of joy and excitement.

“Yeah, it was fun, huh?” I scratched his ears and yawned for the millionth time that hour alone. “Cereal for dinner or cereal for dinner?”

Muppet barked his answer.

“Cereal it is.”

My phone dinged, and I pulled it from my purse.

Tech Nerd: You almost done in there?

Me: Are you outside?

Tech Nerd: …

Tech Nerd: Maybe.

I shook my head at Muppet. “And I thought I was crazy.”

Muppet barked again.

I was already having better conversations with him than I did with most humans.

Me: How do you feel about dogs in your fancy car?

Tech Nerd: You’re not supposed to embezzle from work. But if you’re going to do it, I can only fit four. Five tops.

I used to wonder how those annoyingly chipper people could smile all the time without their cheeks hurting. Thanks to the animals and Alexander,