troubled | e.d.

sixteen

ethan

"ethan," richard says, sitting down in his chair across from me behind his desk. "how was your week?"

we do these little meetings every friday afternoon to review my week— childish, i know. but his psychologist friend recommended it to do with his clients, and i'm the guinea pig.

"it was... it was actually pretty good," i admit, thinking of someone in particular.

"really?" he raises his eyebrows. "why's that?"

i shrug innocently. "it was good. simple as that. do i have to say more?"

"you don't have to, but— forget it," he waves a hand. "i'm not good with this type of stuff. my friend said it would improve mental stability, but you're fine, right?"

i laugh. "yeah, rich. i'm fine."

he lets out a breath of relief. "good, because—"

a small knock on the door makes both of our heads turn, and watch as it slowly creaks open. tessa pops in apologetically.

"sorry... i just need to grab something from my desk," she says sheepishly and inches in.

i grin, and ignore her father's dirty looks in my direction. she's really pretty today. her hair is curled and she wears reddish orange colored small polka dot dress with a white long sleeve under it, and a couple necklaces.

she smiles at me, but richard clears his throat and she looks away, busying herself in the drawer that she came in for.

just as she's about to leave, he says, "tess, honey?"

she turns around. "yeah?"

"when the door is closed, it's like that for a reason."

she nods, a little embarrassed. "sorry."

she then scurries out, closing the door behind her and i wait until i hear the click to turn back around in my chair.

"don't be such a jerk."

his gaze on me sharpens. "telling me how to parent my own kid?"

"well... no," i shift in my seat. "but you didn't have to say it like that."

"watch your mouth, dolan. it tends to run."

i'm silent, not wanting to argue anymore because i know it will get my nowhere. the guy does it for a living.

"so... how's cameron?" i ask casually, trying not to sound too interested but dying inside to know everything.

"i told you everything i know. my guy down in savannah said she's doing fine, going to therapy, getting out with some friends, and all that. she's okay, ethan," he assures, his hard demeanor softening immensely.

i try not to let my relief show too much.
"okay, good."

"have you tried talking to her?"

"how am i supposed to do that? i have no whereabouts on where she lives and i'm pretty certain she would throw away anything with my name on it."