Page 898 of One More Kiss

"But I think I found something that might help." She was trying, but I had barbed-wire fencing around every inch of me.

"Help what?" I asked dryly. "The fact that I cruise through life on autopilot because people in general—and everywhere I go—make me dysfunctional as a human being?"

She huffed. "Stop deflecting and look at this."

Victoria was a cut-to-the-chase, no-time-for-bullshit person. It was why I loved her. It also annoyed the hell out of me.

She held a flier up in my face, and I snatched it.

"What is it?"

"It's a group that meets on campus."

I cocked a brow. "What like…therapy for fucked-up people?" I was trying not to sound offended. I was trying to care that she cared. I was trying not to be a victim because I hated that shit. But it was hard.

"It's for students dealing with grief."

I tossed the flyer aside. "I've always been like this, Vee. It's not about grief. I don't need that kind of help."

"But it's gotten worse since your grandma died." She might as well have punched me in the stomach.

It wasn't like Gran had died yesterday, but the wound still hurt like a bullet hole that had never healed. She was more of a mother to me than my mom.

She reached out and picked the flyer back up. "I'm just trying to help. I want us to have fun. I want to see you have fun. And I know you want that, too. If I were you—"

I put my hand up. "But you're not."

"But if I were,” she tossed back, “I’d try anything.”

I thought about that for a second. It made sense. But the thing about depression and anxiety that outsiders didn’t understand was that it makes you not care. I did, however, care that Victoria had tears in her eyes. Other peoples’ pain was my kryptonite.

I let out a sigh. “Fine.”

“Really?” She perked up.

I wanted to roll my eyes, but I refrained. “Yes. I'll go."

She clutched her hands together. "You will?"

"Under one condition." I held up my finger. "We are ordering pizza and spending the night here, and you are going to watch Outlander with me because shit is about to get real."

Victoria laughed and nearly tackled me to the bed. "If that's what you want."

* * *

I should have set moreconditions because as we drove in Victoria's little blue Mazda toward the psych end of campus, where the gloom-and-doom group was being held, I wanted to puke. I'd considered opening the door and throwing myself out of the moving car. Road rash had to be more comfortable than therapy. Anything would be better than this. When was the last time I went to the dentist? I was probably due for a cleaning. Possibly a root canal. That sounded easier to handle. I could do that instead, for sure.

"You have nothing to be anxious about." Victoria cut into my thoughts. "I know, I know. My saying that doesn't help. But for real. You're going to get there, and everyone is going to talk about things you can relate to, and you're going to be like, wow! I am so glad Vee made me do this. I can relate to these people. They're my people."

I looked at her sideways, and she offered a chipper smile and a nod."I don't want the one thing I have in common with my friends to be the dead people in our lives." I wondered if it was too late to tuck and roll when she pulled up to the curb. Shit.

"I'll be back in an hour. Good luck!" She didn't leave room for argument, so I got out and went inside.

Did I need luck?Maybe I did. Luck was for people who were about to do something risky. Or something they'd most likely fail at.

I wandered down the hallway until I found the room I was looking for—233.

The sign on the door read: Life After (someone else's) Death. I felt a giggle building, though I tamped it down. But in all seriousness, it was a bereavement group, and they were trying to make jokes?

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