Page 130 of The Fractured

“Lily Whitmore?” he asked as he stepped out, addressing the waiting room like Dean and I weren’t the only ones in it.

I took a breath and rose, offering the doctor a polite smile while I looped my bag over my shoulder.

“Come on in,” Hamdan smiled warmly.

I glanced at Dean.

“I’ll be right here. You’ve got this,” he said.

The words were simple but lifted my confidence by a fraction.

I headed for Doctor Hamdan’s open door, smiling again at the doctor as he welcomed me into the space.

The First of Many Big Steps, read the poster on the wall in his office.

The streets were busy, but the traffic was flowing.

Halloween was in two days, meaning décor was in full bloom in almost every storefront and business window. Coffee shops sold pumpkin spice lattes and season-themed pastries, and every so often, I would spot a street performer dressed in a ghoulish costume, entertaining a small gathering.

It was all a welcome sight when all I wanted to do was sit and ponder the last hour at Doctor Hamdan’s office. For such a small window of time, we discussed a lot in the session. Surface-level stuff that gave the doctor an idea of why I needed help.

He specialized in therapy for gun violence survivors, but he also wanted to help with my general anxiety. Which meantworking through the things that triggered it: social gatherings, what James did, my parents…

No more hiding from the problems. I was facing them head-on. Soon, the scars on my body wouldn’t be ugly reminders but simply scars.

“Doctor Hamdan said we’re going to practice setting boundaries with my parents, which will be fun,” I said, breaking the silence.

Dean smiled, eyes on the road. “I’m glad you’re doin’ this. I’m proud of you.”

I took his hand and locked my fingers with his, bringing it to my lips to kiss the snake head tattooed on the back of it.

The corner of his mouth curved up again as he dared to steal his gaze from the road.

I settled our hands in my lap, thinking still as I watched the world go by. “I also want to quit my job. Not right away, but I want to start looking for work again. This time I’d tell Mom, though.”

“No more nightclubs?”

“Definitely not.” I gave myself a self-deprecating shake of the head. “I want to work somewhere that I’ll actually enjoy getting up in the mornings for. Like a bookstore, or maybe an art gallery. Somewhere where I don’t feel suffocated.”

“I’m all for that.” He squeezed my hand gently.

“Are you sure you won’t come to a meeting?” Kira pulled away from our embrace, holding me at arm’s length from her after she greeted Dean and me in the little hallway entrance of our apartment. “The whole group isreallysupportive.”

Dean was already in the living room, talking with Seb.

“I want to settle in with this doctor first.” I placed my hand on hers at my shoulder. “But I’ll think about it. Maybe it can be part of my next step in therapy.”

“Okay, but just know they’ll welcome you when you’re ready.” Her smile broke free as she slung one arm around my shoulder. “And, like,lotsof cakes and biscuits. Some of the members like to bake.”

“That might actually convince me to come sooner,” I joked as we headed for the living room.

Five minutes later, we were all seated around the TV. Seb and Kira were in a playful debate as they set up Seb’s Switch — the debate was over where and how we would do Halloween.

Dean and I listened from the couch. Well, half listened.

I had picked up a pen from the coffee table and was idly drawing on a scrap of paper before Dean silently offered me his left wrist. I looked at him quizzically, but all he did was shrug. So, I started doodling on his skin instead.

“Don’t forget it’s Dean’s birthday on the thirty-first. He should have a say in where we celebrate,” I piped up quietly, keeping my attention on the drawing. Kira and Seb didn’t hear, not that it bothered me.