Page 12 of Landon & Shay: Part Two

* * *

There were somany things to love about Shay, but my favorites were the small things, the little traits that most people overlooked, like the fact that she always cracked the windows of her car, even if it was twenty degrees outside. Or how when she drove, she’d crank the music up and sing so loudly and painfully bad but look so damn adorable doing it. The fact that she never knew any of the right lyrics to her favorite songs. Or how she still chewed on her collar when she was nervous. The fact that she loved animals and couldn’t walk past a dog without wanting to pet it. Or how when she was happy, she’d always state the fact out loud. She’d always say how happy and content she was even though her smile always revealed it, too.

I loved how her desk was always covered in paperwork from her latest projects. I loved how she put a dash of coffee in her cream. I loved how she had to stand on her tiptoes to reach the top shelf of her cabinets. I loved how she’d dance around the kitchen whenever she cooked a meal. I loved how no matter how long I’d been gone, how long I’d been broken, she’d still welcome me back with arms wide open.

I loved how she loved me unconditionally. I loved how the sound of her voice could bring me back from the darkness.

I. Loved. Her.

Fully and completely.

Spending those few days with her felt like a reset to my entire being. Shay Gable was my life support, and for that, I planned to someday give her the whole world. Until then, I’d give her every piece of me.

When I left to return to Los Angeles, I struggled to let go, but I was determined to make my way back to her somehow, somewhere.

“You know the drill, Landon. Three good things that happened in the past forty-eight hours. Go,” Dr. Smith told me as she leaned back in her swivel chair. I’d been seeing her since Mom and I got to California, and she had the laid-back vibe down to a T. I was waiting for the day she’d go fullMean Girlson me and walk in and say,There are no rules in this office. I’m not like a regular doctor. I’m a cool doctor.

She put her feet up on her desk and tossed a stress ball back and forth in her hands as she waited for my reply.

We’d been meeting twice a week to unpack my mental boxes, and so far, it was going all right. Even with her nontraditional practice, I knew I was getting through some of my issues.

One of the things that helped? Three good things.

Each time I saw Dr. Smith, I was responsible for telling her three good things that had happened in the past two days. It was a way to focus on the good things in my present instead of dwelling too much on the shitty things in my past.

At first, I’d found it pretty hard to come up with three good things, which had made me feel like complete shit. Dr. Smith had been quick to shut down those feelings.

“It’s not a final exam, Landon. You can’t get it wrong, and there are no right answers. You could say you got all green lights on the way over, and that works for me. That’s a good thing.”

My answers had started out pretty small. I had breakfast that morning. I had a bed to sleep in. I had a therapist. Then, each week, after unloading some of the stuff in my head, it seemed like we were making more room for me to see the good in every day.

Coming back from my time with Shay made it easy to think of my three good things.

“Shay, Shay, and Shay,” I said, swiveling in my own chair.

“You said the same thing three times.”

“Yup.”

She arched an eyebrow. “That doesn’t count. I need three different things.”

“But Shay is good enough to fill all three spots.”

“While I’m sure that’s true, that’s not how this works. Come on, think hard. Three different good things.”

“All right. Shay, Shay’s kisses, and Shay’s grandmother’s cooking.”

Dr. Smith smiled. She slid her feet on the floor and rested her arms on it as she leaned in toward me. “I bet I can guess what we’re going to be talking about today.”

That was an easy enough thing to figure out.

“But didn’t you say you planned to see your father when you headed back to town, too? Do you want to talk about that?” she asked.

My hands formed fists, and I twitched a bit. “Do we have to?”

Dr. Smith studied me with narrowed eyes and care in her stare. The way she looked at me reminded me of how Mrs. Levi used to look at me, as if she really cared about my well-being.

“You know the rules, Land. We only talk about what you feel comfortable discussing.”

---