I blink at Oakley. “You got stranded at The Mule? Why didn’t anyone tell me? What else has happened?”
Mama clears her throat. “You’ve been in a haze. You’re barely eating, barely leaving the house. We’re all worried about you, and we didn’t want to add any worry.”
My lip wobbles, and a tear streaks down my cheek. I swipe it away. I’m so goddamned sick of crying. Sick of feeling this way. Sick of missing out on what appears to be life-altering news for my friend and my sister because of my damn emotions.
“I’m sorry,” I choke out. “I’m sorry I’ve been absent. I didn’t… I’m not trying to be. I’m so sorry.”
“Oh, baby, no. No one’s mad at you, I promise. You don’t need to apologize for something out of your control.”
“We know you’re trying to mend a broken heart, and we didn’t want to rub it in your face,” Briar says. “That’s why we didn’t tell you.”
I dry more tears with the sleeve of my hoodie as I nod. “I’m happy for you both, truly. I don’t want you to feel like you can’t tell me good news just because my brain chemicals are off.”
“Good news!” Hudson interjects, adding some levity to the thick tension in the room. “Almost Christmas.”
Everyone laughs.
“You’re right, Huddy,” Mama says. “It’s almost Christmas. What does Christmas mean?”
“Cookies!”
“That’s right. Do you and Briar want to help me bring out the cookies we made earlier?” Mama asks him.
Hudson nods, grabbing Bry’s hand and disappearing into the kitchen.
Oakley comes to sit by me, wrapping her arm around my shoulder. “I’m sorry we didn’t tell you. It’s been kind of a whirlwind, you know?”
“It’s okay. Come over tomorrow night, and you can tell me everything?”
“It’s a date. And boy, do I have lots to tell you. Bry does this thing with her fingers and?—”
“Okay, maybe noteverything. Let’s keep it PG—wait, no, G.”
She nudges me and rolls her eyes. “Spoil sport.”
“Tell me one thing, though. Does she treat you well?”
“She’s the best thing to happen to me.” She sighs. “I can feel it in my bones that she and that little boy are meant to be in my life forever, you know?”
I do know, because I feel—felt—that way about a certain grumpy blonde. “Yeah. I do.”
After Christmas, I decided enough was enough.
I started painting again to work through my feelings. The watercolor pads went from dark grays and blues to reds and oranges, and now that it’s almost spring, my pages are filled with pastels and lighter, happier colors.
Daddy pulled me aside in January and told me Addison invited him to a rodeo in Idaho next month, and I intend to go.
I need to see her one more time, even if she’s moved on.
In order to mentally prepare to be in the crowd, Colleen and I have been working on a bit of exposure therapy to help with myanxiety. It started with visiting Shiloh in Great Falls every other Saturday. She’s slowly been showing me around the city and helping me get used to being in an unfamiliar place with unfamiliar people. I had a panic attack the first time, but my anxiety has slowly lessened over the last two months, and I managed to make a supply run all by myself with no issues.
Colleen and I debrief every Monday to identify my triggers, and I talked to my psychiatrist and got on a different medication to help me manage. My depression still lingers sometimes, but now that it’s warming up, it’s not as all-consuming.
The exposure therapy and medication aren’t cures; my anxiety is still there, but they’ve helped make it more manageable. I’m packing a bag to spend an entire night in Great Falls for Shiloh’s birthday. We’re going to a fancy steakhouse and out to see some new band Shy’s obsessed with.
A knock on my door pulls me from packing, and Daddy opens the front door, calling my name.
I meet him in the living room, immediately nervous. Daddy’s got his serious face on and a file in his hands.
