kicking my feet up and crossing my ankles.
“Salvatore.” My mom’s voice has that scold-tinge to it, like when I was a kid and made a farty noise in the back seat of the car during a long drive somewhere. I give her a sideways look and consider putting up a challenge. Hayden clears his throat and I give in.
“Fine,” I say, lowering the foot rest and sitting up enough to rest my elbows on the arms and fold my hands together on my lap. I’m ready for testimony.
“All right, first . . . I’d like to congratulate you all on this very important first step. I want you to take a minute and congratulate yourselves, quietly or silently. Thank yourselves for this. I know coming here isn’t easy, and the fact you rose to the challenge means you all have something invested in this family unity.”
My dad breaks first, puffing out a short laugh that he quickly covers with a cough. My mom gives him a stern look, which he pretends not to see. I enjoy the show while my brother shrinks, his head falling into his shoulders as he sits on the rubbery sofa between them. I can’t believe I’m here.
Congratulations, Tory. You did it.
Yeah, this Dr. Majestic is full of it.
“I’m familiar with your file and I understand the circumstances, but I’ve found that the things we report on paper are often not the real story. Why don’t we start at the root, being open and honest. Shall we?” Dr. Majestic scans the room, getting nonverbal commitments from each of us. I shrug, just like my dad, while Hayden and my mom nod.
“Good. Tory, let’s start with you.”
Aww, fuck.
“How has your parents’ split made you feel?”
The heat from four pairs of eyes is instantly on me.
“Ha!” I laugh out, mostly from the audacity of the question. My mouth hangs open, and I look first to my dad, who is of absolutely no help, his eyes clearly saying he doesn’t want to be here. I move to Hayden next, who has a poker face that would save any gambler, and then there’s Mom—oh-so hopeful, expectant Mom. She wants me to be her good little boy.
My head swings back to the front and I deadpan to our doctor with dim eyes and a sour mouth. “Fine. I guess.”
“Tory,” my mom cuts in.
“No,” the doctor says, halting her. “Let him talk.”
I raise a brow and turn my head a hint to the side while staring at her.
“I did talk. That’s all I’ve got.” So far, my plan on how to handle this is falling to shit, but I have yet to break my promise to Hayden, so, hey—win!
“Why do you think you answered that way?” She’s not going to make this easy. She’s needling, chewing on the tip of her pen and leaning in as if I’m about to get raw.
“There are a lot of germs on your pen,” I say, pointing to the spot where her teeth have locked onto the clicking part. She lets go, smirking slightly as she leans back in her chair, which matches mine. I wonder if she ever gets to put her feet up.
“I bet you’re known as the funny one.”
Wow, she’s a genius.
“Among other things,” I say, winking.
“Tory.” This time, the stern warning comes from my father. I shift and release my hold on my hands, exhaling on his command.
I rub my face, digging into my eyes that feel puffy from too much sleep. Resting my face on my palm, leaning on the arm of the chair, I stare in thought at the strands of the very expensive-looking rug that’s centered in this room. It doesn’t fill it completely, just enough to stretch under the sofa, the doctor’s desk and these two chairs. My chair is an intruder.
“I don’t know, maybe I’m disappointed.” I grimace and glance up to meet the doctor’s approving eyes.
“Go on,” she says.
I draw a long breath through my nose and shake my head, letting my stare wander off again into the swirling pattern on the carpet.
“He’s not the favorite anymore; that’s how he feels,” Hayden says, his unexpected contribution widening my eyes so much they actually burn.
“Hayden,” my mom says, a totally different tone than the one she used with my name. This one is nurturing, and perhaps a bit pathetic.
“That’s how I feel, anyway. I feel like my brother was always the king, and now that life at home isn’t picture-perfect, he’s less . . . shiny.” My