Page 9 of Vicious Little Darling

I stare after him, heat flushing to my face.God, I made that so awkward!I run my fingers through my hair, just as the door chimes once more. Ihopeit’s the tattooed hottie coming back in to get my number, but instead, it’s an elderly lady.

“Good morning,” I say to her, feeling a little light-headed after my conversation with that hottie.

She gives me a weird look, and then heads straight for the historical fiction section of the store. I sit quietly on the stool, drumming my fingers on the counter instead of going back to reading my book. Part of me feels as if I missed an opportunity with the guy who came in to buy the books. Irarelyget up the nerve to flirt, and he seemed receptive to it, but then again, hecould’veasked for my number if he was actually interested.

Ugh.I never attract the guys that I actually find attractive. That notion sends my heart dropping and, as Rich steps back into the store, he notices that something is off—again.

“What’s with the long face, you’re going to scare off the customers,” he chuckles, setting his to-go drink down on the counter. “Seriously.”

“Nothing.” I let out a sigh. “I swear I just sometimes think I’m going to be alone forever.”

“Yeah, well, join the club,” he snorts, but then grows serious. “I have a friend though. His name is Dylan, super cool guy. He’s trying to find the right one. I could set you guys up. He’s definitely your type.”

I toy with the idea, and then stare longingly at the door, reminded of Xander. “You know what, yeah. Okay. Set us up.”

“Cool, I’ll have him set me up, too. Then we’ll all go out together.”

I nod. “Deal.”

Chapter Five

JAXTON

“Jaxton Marks,” the receptionist calls out. “Dr. Pitman will see you now.”

Fucking great.I get to my feet and try to brush off the nerves penetrating my chest. I’ve been seeing this dipshit for three years now, and it never gets better. He just fucking pries into the dark corners of my brain. Well, hetriesto, anyway.

I sling my backpack over my shoulder and head down the hall to the third door on the right, which is already open and waiting for me. I step across the threshold, avoiding eye contact with Dr. Pitman, and plop down onto the brown microfiber couch. The walls are painted a putrid blue color—it’s hideous.

“Good morning, Jaxton,” Dr. Pitman greets me from behind his black rimmed glasses framed by white hair. “How’s your morning been?”

“Fine,” I say, leaning back against the back of the couch. “Though, I’d rather not be here.”

“Yet, here you are,” he chuckles. “As usual.”

“Yeah,” I mutter, questioning myself aboutwhyI do keep showing up. It’s as if I innately want to be better. Except I don’t. I don’t give a fuck about anything.

“So, what were you up to this morning?”

I trailed Ember from home to work, and then found a coffee shop to bide my time until this hell hole.“Not much. I slept in.”

“That’s abnormal for you,” Dr. Pitman crosses his thin legs, clad in gray pants. “You’re an early bird.”

“You mean, I just don’t fucking sleep at all,” I level with him. “And no, I don’t want any of that medication you can prescribe me for that.”

He keeps that same fucking pleasant look on his face. “Well, I know your stance on medication, and I wasn’t going to offer it, Jaxton.”

“Good,” I huff, shifting in my seat like a kid. I don’t know what it is about the guy, but every time I’m in his office, I feel as if I’m seven years old again and in the principal’s office.

“So, why don’t we talk about your week? Have you considered getting a job? Do you remember our chat about that?”

“Sure.”

“Sure, you’ve considered getting a job? Or?” Dr. Pitman’s patience with me is admirable, really. I mean, I’d hate me by now, but I guess that’s why he’s a therapist and I’m a low life serial killer.

“I considered getting a job.”

“Where?”

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