When I storm out of the building as I leave the disaster of a therapy session, I almost slip and fall on a patch of ice in the parking lot. I would usually laugh at myself in that situation, but I'm in no mood to laugh. If anything, it only makes a whole new burst of frustration rush through my veins. So, I just continue on my way to the car, crossing my arms tightly over my chest to fight off the cold.

I slam the car door behind me after I've gotten in.

The ride on the way back home is silent. Either Gerard can tell that I'm definitely not in a talking mood, or he just doesn't know what to say. So, instead of the usual friendly conversation, I stare out the window, my gaze never wavering. At every exhale, I watch as my breath creates condensation on the glass. Soon enough, my breaths come out quicker and I realize I'm crying hot, angry tears.

This is exactly what I didn't want.

I hate crying. I hate feeling weak and out of control, and I silently curse myself for being just that. Luckily, though, we've just parked outside the house, so I make a beeline for the front door. I don't even bother grabbing my backpack from where I dumped it in the back seat.

Lindsey greets me inside. "Hey, Girly! You're early." She stands with her hands resting on her stomach, her usual warm smile on her face.

"Hi," I reply flatly.

Her face falls when she sees that I'm crying. "Rough session?"

I hastily wipe away my tears. "You could say that."

I end the conversation there and shut myself in my bedroom. Next, I pry my shoes off my feet and leave them on the floor, then crawl into my bed, ruining the perfectly smooth blankets from when I made it this morning. Sitting with my knees drawn to my chest and a sheet pulled over my head, is when I finally quit any attempt at holding back a flood of tears.

Well shit.

It's one thing to end a sessions early, but it's another to have obviously stormed out of there. Not to mention a completely unlike Eve thing to do.

When I cross the threshold of the front door, her footsteps are already making their way up the stairs and towards her room. Next, the sound of her door closing more loudly than usual rings out through the otherwise silent house. Not even Lindsey is making any noise as she stands in the hallway with a bewildered expression on her face.

Nevertheless, she greets me with a kiss before saying, "I guess it didn't go so well today?"

"I guess not," I reply, taking my shoes off. "I'm just as confused as you, though. She didn't tell me anything. She didn't even say anything in the car afterwards."

"Are you gonna go talk to her?" Linds inquires. She takes my coat for me and hangs it up on a hook.

"I think I should give her some time to cool off."

She nods understandingly. "That's probably a good idea."

I decide to go up to my office to get some writing done, thinking that twenty minutes should be enough time to wait before I dare knock on Eve's door. Between that and music I have little spare time, and I'm shut up here more often than not. Coffee after coffee to keep me going. That's why I find myself really looking forward to my time off with my family in the form of our weekly movie nights.

For tomorrow's, we decided on Mikey's favourite: Jaws.

Sitting at my desk, I don't get as much work done as I was hoping. My eyes keep flitting up to the digital clock on my desk, watching the minutes go by. My mind keeps drifting to Evelyn, wondering what could've possibly gone down in that office, unable to focus on the words in front of me.

By the time seventeen minutes have gone by, I quit torturing myself and get up, pushing my chair back under my desk before I go. Before I even put my hand on the doorknob, though, my phone begins ringing from where it's sitting across the room where I left it on my desk. I cross the room, grabbing it, and answer the call without checking the ID.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Mr. Way?" The woman's voice on the other end of the line sounds familiar.

"Yeah, how can I help you?"

"This is Dr. James speaking. I'm calling to talk about today's session with your daughter, Evelyn."

"Please, I was wondering about that myself," I say, nodding even though she can't see me.

"First I want to say I'm so sorry to hear the news about her biological mother. Evelyn was pretty upset about it, though that may be an understatement."

"She sure is," I say as I begin pacing the room slowly. I can never seem to stay still while I'm on the phone. "Really, we all are. I was hoping she'd be able to talk through it a bit with you, though."

Dr. James then briefly explains to me how that conversation went down. I understood that she acknowledged that Eve had been traumatized by her mother who doesn't deserve forgiveness for having done that, but also that good had come from that situation. Namely, being adopted by me.

I also immediately understood that trying to be positive must've pressed Eve's buttons thanks to her often pessimistic outlook on life.

Before I could explain that to Dr. James, though, she went on by saying, "That's not the main reason I'm calling, though."

"Oh?" Is all I could think to say.

"Not long before Evelyn left my office— which, no hard feelings by the way, it happens all the time— she said something that worried me."

And when she tells me what that something was, it worries me too.

When the conversation is over and I've hung up my phone, I place it gently on my desk. This time, before I even take a step toward the door, the doorknob turns slowly, and it inches open.

"Dad?" Eve pokes her head in.

I sigh at the heartbreaking sight of her bloodshot eyes: A sure sign that she's been in her room, crying alone for the past twenty-something minutes. "C'mere." She steps into the room and comes forward before I wrap my arms around her. She rests her head on my shoulder, something she was once almost too short to do.

"I'm such a bitch," she mumbles.

"No, Eve, don't say that. You've just had a rough week."

"That doesn't mean I'm not a bitch."

I step away from her and ask, "Why don't we sit down and talk if you're ready? And then we can decide how much of a bitch you are?"

"Okay." She immediately plops down on the floor without leaving the spot she was standing in.

"Why do you always do this? I didn't put chairs in here for nothing."

She looks up at me and manages to crack a smile. "It's just easier. Now are you gonna take one of those chairs you speak of, or sit on the floor with me?"

"I'm thirty-one, I won't be able to get off the floor."

"Uh-huh." Eve rolls her eyes then grabs my arm, yanking me down. "Guess that means you're too old to go wild on stage now, too, right?"

I sit cross legged in front of her. "You know Frankie's the one who really goes apeshit."

"True, true."

"Okay, what's on your mind, Evie?"

"I told Sam about the... you know, and she was all like "aw, that's horrible" and like, yeah, it is horrible." Her story matches what Dr. James told me, so far. "But then she said something about not everything being all bad because at least what she did lead me to meeting you eventually."

"And you got mad because she tried to be positive?"

"It sounds bad when you put it like that!" Eve covers her face in her hands. "But, no, I'm not mad at her."

"Then what is it?"

"I'm more mad at myself now, cause, I guess I don't know how to deal with this and I took it out on her. And that's why I'm a bitch."

"I'm sure she understands, Eve, she's probably dealt with a lot worse."

"I guess so," she says under her breath.

"But what made you leave her office like that?"

"I- I was just annoyed after she said- um, all that," she stutters, avoiding my eyes.

I run my fingers through my hair. "Look, Eve, she called me just earlier." At those words, I see Eve's eyes widen.