Home > Dirty Toe Drag(8)

Dirty Toe Drag(8)
Author: Toni Aleo

I’ve been in regular therapy since I was eighteen. I don’t know if there is help for me.

“Wesley?”

I look up to see my therapist, Noelle Matthews. She’s been the team’s therapist for as long as I’ve been here. She’s a little older than me and kind. Except when she’s making me talk about shit I don’t want to deal with.

“Hey, Dr. Matthews. How you doing?”

“Wonderful. Jesus, I heard you got hurt, but that’s a nasty injury.”

I wave her off. “Doesn’t even hurt.”

“Sure it doesn’t,” she laughs. “Come on in.” She moves out of the way so I can walk in. I’ve never asked how old she is, but one thing is for sure. She’s gorgeous. She’s got that hourglass figure that reminds me of a cartoon pinup girl. Her dark hair and dark eyes make her seem all gypsylike. She has these really thick lips that remind me a lot of Stella’s. I’m sure it is frowned upon to be lusting over a girl I can’t have while trying to heal my mind.

As I enter, like I always do, I look around her office. She has a lot of bookcases, full of books and pictures of her dogs. She’s a huge dog person. She has a pretty neat white desk that she’s paired with a dark purple chair.

“How’re the dogs?”

She smiles as she sits down. “Wonderful. I’m rescuing another one this week.”

“Wow. How many is that now?”

“Four.”

We share a smile before she lets out a long breath. “We need to talk.”

I’m not sure if I should brace myself or not, so I do just to feel safe. I grip the arms of the chair. “Okay?”

“I don’t talk about my family a lot in our sessions, but my youngest brother is on the spectrum for autism. We have found a really awesome program out in Colorado, so, unfortunately, we’ll only have two more sessions together before I move.”

“Oh.”

“I know. I’m sorry. But the good thing is, my replacement will be sitting in with us on the last two, so we can get to know one another as a group. I want to have weekly Skype calls with you until you’re comfortable.”

“And if I don’t get comfortable right away with them?” Valid question since it took over four months for me to open up to her.

“Then we can increase the frequency of our calls. I will continue to work with you until you are. I’ll even do sessions with you both. I’ll be heading back here monthly to check on my other siblings, so we can meet up if need be.”

Panic. All I feel is panic. But I know this is best for her, and I’m sure this wasn’t an easy decision. I nod. “This sucks, but I want the best for your brother.”

She smiles happily. “You’re too sweet, Wesley. Thank you. We’ll get you taken care of, don’t worry.”

“Okay.” But I am worried. Didn’t I say I wanted things to even out? My therapist leaving is not evening out! Fuck me. I love this woman; she’s the first therapist who has gotten the truth out of me, the one who supports me when I get in my phases. I don’t want to do this all over, especially when I wasn’t too confident about opening up to her.

“So, was it a rogue elbow or stick that got you, or was it a fight?” she asks, a grin pulling at her lips as I meet her gaze.

She isn’t going to like this. “I was mad we were losing, and since I had been with an opponent’s sister, I felt the need to pick at him about it.”

She gives me a very stern look. “Do you feel better?”

“My face hurts, but it did please me to get back at him for beating us.”

“Fine, but this all stems from the past, Wesley. And you gotta ask yourself, did it take away the pain of being molested?”

Well, no. But then, nothing has.

This is going to be a long session.

 

 

Chapter Five

 

 

Stella

 

I bite my lip as I stare at my iPad screen, tapping my Apple Pen to the side of it. My phone is open to my list of all my favorite flavors that I’ve made in the past. But at the bottom are my ideas for my Harry Potter cupcakes. Since everyone does the same flavor combinations, I, of course, am including the popular ones.

Butterbeer, duh.

A chocolate ganache cake to hide the colored candies for the Sorting Hat.

Cinnamon-cream cheesecake with a golden cinnamon-sugar frosting to look like a Snitch.

I’ve drawn how I want each one to be designed and decorated. My butterbeer will be classic and sophisticated. The rich golden color will make mouths water within seconds. For my Sorting Hat, I will make the hat from the books out of modeling chocolate, but I also want to add edible glitter colors of all the houses along the frosting. I think it’s gonna look incredible. My Snitch one will shine in the case, I know it, and I can’t wait to make the little wings out of chocolate. Audrey will help since I’m still learning chocolate work.

I want something else, though. I tap my pen a little hard while I look around my bed. I have all the Harry Potter books out, the set my mom bought me when I was born. Since Aiden was such a huge fan growing up, he demanded that all us kids are too.

I’m pretty sure when Emery refused to read the books when she turned eleven, Aiden demanded she be banned from the family. And Emery, being Emery, refused even more and made sure to tell Aiden it was all bullshit anyway. He pushed harder for her to be kicked out, and I think that was the moment I realized Aiden wasn’t the favorite anymore.

Emery was—shit, she still is.

I know for damn sure my mom and dad love Asher and me, but we’re easy. Aiden is all perfect and showboating, the ideal older son, and Emery is a walking basket case, full of endless knowledge of how to kill and/or torture someone. So really, Asher and I could only turn out easy. I love Asher. Sometimes more than I love Aiden, but it’s because Asher was around. He played with us, always had a smile for us. He included us when he was older and would much rather hang with us than other teenagers. Now, I know it was probably to get closer to his wife, Ally, but I tell myself it’s because I’m such a delight. Asher was the one who actually got Emery to read the books. They would read them together, every night for two months.

Too bad, honestly. Maybe if Aiden had gotten Emery out of the family, no one would know she was ours. You know, for when she commits murder. I really don’t want to be Emery “Black Widow” Brooks’s sister. Yes, she has her murder name picked out. Yes, I am terrified.

Not surprised, though. Not at all. The best part will be my mom on the news.

“We thought it was a phase!”

I snort to myself as I look over the books, begging for some inspiration. As my eyes fall on the Goblet of Fire, it comes to me. A Death Eater Cupcake. I almost squeal in delight as I start to draw it up. It’ll be Slytherin-inspired, with the dark-green frosting, but a badass Dark Mark will be made out of chocolate and sit proudly in the frosting. Flavor…hmm. I could go with pumpkin, but I want something with a little bit more wow, I think. Ooh…or minty. Like an Andes candy chocolate cake with mint frosting. I might add some Baileys in there to give it a kick. Oh! I should do a Firewhisky cupcake! Dragons! Ooooh!

I do a little dance as all the flavors and designs hit me like crazy. I’m so excited, I’m shaking. I reach for my phone, texting Audrey.

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