"You don't have to actually fix me or anything. You'll get paid either way."

A hearty laugh barreled out of Dr. Dayla's throat. The corners of his eyes crinkled a bit as he smiled. "'Fix' you. That's what you think my job is?"

Quinn sank down in the center of the leather couch across from the man as if the furniture hadn't already tried its hardest to swallow her whole the minute she planted herself in it. She observed the hard creases that lined his khaki pants. Much like the kind often found in her late father's old army uniform, they were the type of creases that told a story that his office décor may have missed.

He was proud of his heritage, that much was clear. His tastes almost looked like something she'd find straight out of her history book whenever she'd flip through the pages and read all about the Native Americans and the unique way of life that they proudly practiced before the Europeans could come along and turn their little piece of Heaven upside down. But Dr. Dayla's office was living proof that neither man nor disease could obliterate a culture as rich as their own. 

She decided that Dr. Dayla couldn't have yet reached his mid-thirties but the way he dressed, sophisticated and poised, nearly told Quinn otherwise. Then again, his face was clean-shaved which gave him a youthful look that was quite possibly even deceiving her. Aside from the beautiful décor, Quinn allotted him points for his glasses, too.

They were thick and black and even shaped like her own. He pushed them further up his nose whenever he intended to take notes on what few words she carefully permitted herself to set free. She wanted to roll her eyes at the habit but she had to save such a dramatic act for her departure (whenever that would be); more specifically the inspirational posters she saw on her way in.

Even Paloma poked fun at the brightly-colored clichés when she dropped her sister off. Though Quinn felt like it was more of a bandwagon hopping than anything considering ever since she agreed to attend therapy like the brunette wanted, Paloma made it her business to fulfill every one of her needs and the vast majority of her wants as if doing otherwise would make the teenager suddenly back out.

Quinn considered it, really, on more than one occasion but whenever the thought crossed her mind, she reminded herself why she agreed to something as unsettling as a session of therapy in the first place.

"Yeah, well, I figured that's why they pay you the big bucks." She gestured to the silver nameplate that sat neatly on the left corner of his desk. "Otherwise, Dr. Dayla would just be...Dayla. I mean, if someone comes in broken then they come here and, eventually, leave broken then, that means you didn't do your job, right? You didn't fix them."

"Most people call me Dr. Day; it's simple, fast, and easy to remember."

Exchanging pleasantries felt like a waste of time, let alone happy-go-lucky nicknames considering Quinn hadn't any intention of attending another session outside of the one she grudgingly agreed to that afternoon. Be that as it may, she was willing to say whatever necessary to put the experience behind her.

"Well, I'm not most people but if that's what you prefer." Quinn extended him a polite smile that lasted no more than a second. "Dr. Day it is."

"I'd have to agree—you're not like most people. I got that vibe from you from the very beginning."

Quinn hadn't the slightest clue as to how to respond to that, then she remembered she didn't have to.

"My work—my calling—what I do here, it's not 'fixing' people so much as it is helping them. That help can come in all shapes and sizes. Mostly it means making my patients secure in themselves so that they can become and continue to be a productive member of society and live genuinely happy, thriving lives that they, as well as their family and friends, want to be a part of."

"Sounds...like a lot of work." She chuckled. "I don't envy you."

Now he was laughing, too. "More work for my patients, I'd say."

"Are you insinuating that I've got a lot of work to do?"

He shrugged. "That depends. What brings you here today?"

"My sister."

"Yes. She and I met earlier. However, I was thinking more so along the lines of something deeper than who or what physically brought you here."

Quinn stiffened. "The answer's the same. She wants me here, so..." She threw her hands up before dropping them back down into her lap. "Looks like I'm your four o'clock. Sorry to disappoint." 

"Humor. That's your thing, huh? I can see why. You're pretty funny."

"I won't be quitting my day job anytime soon, but thanks."

"More often than not, comedy can be a rather effective tool for deflection."

Quinn frowned. "You're chock-full of insinuations, I see."

"Can you blame me? You seem to be avoiding real conversation at every turn. I have to fill in the blanks somehow." His smile grew. "I don't consider myself a proud man, so, please, correct me if I'm wrong."

The teenager fiddled with a loose strand that sprouted from her jeans. "You're not." She looked up, a ghost of a smile adorning her lips. "After all, how wrong could a man with a Ph.D. be?"

"You didn't come in kicking and screaming today which, unfortunately, isn't always the case for some." Raising a dark eyebrow, he leaned in. "You should see some of my other patients."

"So?"

"So, you're here for your sister. She didn't drag you here, your back wasn't up against a wall." Dr. Day leaned back and studied the girl just long enough to make her squirm. "So, why'd you come?"

"My sister isn't in the best place right now. She lost a friend recently." Quinn shook her head and backtracked. "Her friend isn't dead or anything. She just...can't be her friend anymore and because of that, my sister's really down. Me coming here...it'll make her less down. I'm hoping a lot less but we'll just have to wait and see."

He nodded slowly but surely. "Your sister's well-being is important to you."

"Of course. My well-being is important to her, too, so, I gotta level the playing field somehow. I'm all she has these days which means sucking it up and giving her what she needs; no matter what that is."

"Sounds like a heavy burden to bear. Kind of like what a parent would do for their child. Don't you think that would sooner be their job rather than your own?"

Quinn chuckled. "Well, if you get ahold of our parents, by all means, let us know because you will have made a scientific and spiritual breakthrough, my friend."

"How's that?"

"We lost our parents a few years back." Quinn continued before he could beat her to the punch. "Before you say anything, it's been dealt with. So, that's not why I'm here."

"If that's true, then I'm pleased to hear that. However, experiencing a loss like that can be extremely difficult, for someone your age, especially. Are you sure that's not why you're here?"

For the time being, Quinn opted for transparency. "I have nightmares sometimes. They're rough but I've got them under control. My sister thinks otherwise. She figured bringing me here would change things—fix things—but being that you're not a 'fixer' but, instead, a 'helper', then something tells me that the three of us are wasting our time."

"What do these nightmares entail?"

"Like I told my sister, it's about them—my parents." The redhead ran her hands along her thighs and shrugged. "How it probably looked when it happened. How they were. How they felt. Just...everything."

"And what you told your sister is the truth?"

"Why wouldn't it be?"

"No reason. If you say it is, then I believe it because if you and I don't have trust then this will never work. So, I trust that you're telling me the truth, just as you're telling your sister the truth. In return, I hope that you can trust me, too."

Quinn's nod wasn't necessarily in agreement but the therapist pressed on all the same. "In my experience, talking about the hurt makes the hurt hurt a little less. It makes it less foreign and, in turn, takes away its power so it can't torment you any longer."

"Yeah?"

"Would you mind telling me what it was that led to your parents' passing?"

"They blew a flat going nearly seventy miles an hour. Barreled into a deep ditch just on the underside of a highway." She drew her eyebrows together, dropping her gaze from him to the coffee table between them. "They were unconscious and dying, but the rest of the world was too busy going too fast to notice so...they stayed unconscious and dying until..." She wet her lips, finally drawing herself from her self-induced trance. "Well, you're an intelligent man. Something tells me you know what comes next." Quinn hated the way pity flashed in the deep-brown hue of his eyes. "It's no bedtime story but it happened and now it's done."

"I'm so sorry to hear that. Truly. That couldn't have been an easy thing for you or your sister to go through; then or now. No matter how much time passes, the pain stays fresh, I'm sure." He shifted his notepad from one knee to another. "Though you feel as though you've dealt with your parents' passing in its entirety, these nightmares may be occurring because your subconscious feels otherwise."

"How do I tell my subconscious to shut up?"

He laughed to himself. "Unfortunately, it isn't that easy. If it were, I'd be out of a job."

"And I wouldn't be here."

"And your sister would be unhappy."

"...Right," whispered Quinn. "Guess it's a good thing that it isn't that easy after all."

Paloma was quiet the whole way home. Had Quinn not been looking in the reflection of her cellphone, she would've thought that she and her sister switched roles. She'd throw a glance in her sister's direction, but doing so would earn her nothing in return. After briefly consulting with herself, she decided that giving the brunette some space was the safest route to go.

Besides, after being at the mercy of a therapist who wanted nothing more than to pick her brain, she didn't have a problem with that. She set her sights on the staircase but before she could make the climb, Paloma called out to her. With slight apprehension, the teenager approached her sister in the kitchen shortly after.

"I'm proud of you, you know." Paloma's lips arced into a small smile. "Giving therapy a shot was extremely mature of you."

Quinn matched Paloma's expression; even when her simper waned a moment later.

"Anyway, I, uh, went next door while you were gone."

"To see the new neighbors, huh?" The teenager reached onto the counter to partake in the bowl of grapes that Paloma pulled from the fridge. "How are they?"

"Well, I took one look at who it was and couldn't stomach the walk over. But I can tell you this: he is still a jackass."

Quinn frowned, not bothering to slow her chewing. "Who's 'he'?"

Paloma peeped out of the kitchen window; a nod followed. "Why don't you take a look?"

There he was. Chocolate hair, honey eyes, slender build—it was him for sure. Michael slammed his trunk closed, lugging what appeared to be a microwave in his arms as he ventured into his brand-new home. Using his foot, he shut the front door behind him, slamming it just forcefully enough to break Quinn from her trance.

By the time it happened, though, Paloma had settled into a deep frown; arms crossed over her chest and all. The brunette looked at the floor, then back at the girl. "Did you tell him?"

"What?"

"Did you tell him? Michael! Did you tell him where will live?"

"No, Paloma! God!" Quinn smacked her lips. "Why would you even say that?"

"Maybe because he's right next door! How else would he—" Paloma made a mental note to lower her voice but that didn't mean her anger subsided in the least. "Quinn, tell me the truth. Have you been talking to him?"

"No, Paloma, I have not been talking to him."

Paloma scoffed. "And I'm just supposed to believe that?"

"Yeah, you are. You're the one that wanted trust, right? Well, I'm telling you, I have not had any contact with him anymore recently than you have. That night at the apartment? That was it." Quinn stepped closer; her eyes boring into Paloma's. "I haven't talked to him at all, let alone invited him to move into the vacant house next door! Even if I did, why would he?"

"Why would he have done anything that he did? To get close to you! I want to believe you but God, I—" Paloma tensed her jaw and looked Quinn up and down for what felt like an eternity. "I don't."

"Then that's your hang-up." The vain in Quinn's neck throbbed violently. "Not mine."

Paloma wore a bitter grin. "I don't know why I ever thought you'd tell me the truth. You never do. If you did, you wouldn't have to talk to a stranger about what's going on in your life instead of your own sister!"

"That." Quinn gestured to the woman with disgust written all over her face. "That's why I don't tell you anything. Ever since we were both kids, you have always thrown what you know about me in my face; use it against me. Do you think I went there for me? So that I could have a 'safe place' to pour my heart out? I went there for you. You refused to get off my back about it because focusing on anything else in the world that's not your own life is what you thrive on."

Quinn ignored Paloma's sarcastic chuckle and ventured on. "That's exactly why you forced the spotlight onto me. I hated it, still, I accepted the unbearable attention anyway. For you. But apparently, that's not even enough. Man, that shit with Ava has made you so bitter. You know, I don't blame her for leaving. If anything, she dodged a major bullet with you."

Paloma's expression soured. "Watch it."

Quinn didn't back down. "It's true."

"You know who might tell a different truth? Michael." Paloma was already making her way to the front door. "I think it'd be a good idea to see if your stories align. The best part is, either way, he's getting the hell out of this neighborhood."

Quinn was fast, but Paloma was faster; likely due to the four years of track the brunette ran in high school. When Quinn finally caught up, Paloma was already on Michael's doorstep.

"Paloma—"

"Quinn, turn around and go home." She whipped her head around to level her eyes with her sister's. "Now."

As far as Quinn was concerned, Paloma was born with a fierce and wicked glare that could make Satan fall to his knees and beg for mercy so, of course, she considered minding the woman. But something in her wouldn't let her turn away just yet.

When the door jerked open, Quinn winced in anticipation for the beast inside of Paloma was surely about to be released. To her surprise, Paloma hadn't said a word. Apparently, she was waiting for Michael to do the talking. Unfortunately, that didn't happen.

Upon seeing Paloma, the man didn't say a word. He just stood there watching, waiting as the wheels turned in his head. Paloma let it soak in, then she said, "What the hell are you doing here?"

He found his voice. "I was just about to ask you the same thing."

Paloma's chuckle was vitriolic. "So, you're playing dumb, too, huh?"

Michael peeked past Paloma at the small figure that stood in her shadow. Not bothering to dial back her glare in the least, Paloma blocked his view. She didn't look away from him when said, "Quinn, go home."

"But—"

"I'm not asking."

If her words weren't clear enough, her tone surely was. Like a defeated puppy, Quinn dropped her head and did as she was told; leaving Paloma to deal with the mess. Paloma waited until Quinn disappeared before focusing on the issue at hand.

"So, did you wanna try that again or are you locking in your excuse as your final answer? No rush, I just wanted to get your statement so I could give the cops as much information as possible."

Michael wrapped his right hand around the side of the door, his head dipping to release a small chuckle. Paloma's eyes narrowed at his nerve.

"The cops?"

"The cops," she snapped back. "And something tells me you won't be wearing that grin for too long."

At the same instant, Michael readopted his serious demeanor. "You're the one at my house."

Paloma broadcasted her teeth through a broad smile. "Won't be yours for long when people find out that a man with pedophilic tendencies moved next door to his former victim."

Michael's face fell. He stepped further out of the home, finally revealing himself to the world as his eyes darted to the corner that Quinn rounded seconds earlier. One hand tore through the dark, endless fields of his hair while the other retreated to his hip.

"That's yours?"

Paloma took a glance at her home. "Hmm. Guessed right on the first try."

Michael shook his head. "You can't think this happened on purpose."

"Not at all. You'll be glad to know that I'm a firm believer in outlandish coincidences."

"I know what you're thinking. How bad this looks on my part on top of what happened before but because of what happened before, you can't possibly think I wanted this."

"I don't know. You wanted a lot of things that I knew nothing about, so I doubt that I'm the right person to make that kind of judgment."

"If nothing more, you made it abundantly clear what would happen if I came near either of you again. I learned early on that you very rarely make idle threats."

Paloma's nod was self-assured. "It'd do you well to remember that."

"Had I'd known that you or she were anywhere near this vicinity, I never would've bought a house in this area."

Paloma took a generous step in his direction. "Typically, when one is kind enough to give someone completely unworthy a free pass under the stipulation that they never show their face again then the recipient tends to not disrespect said person by moving themselves and their crap pretty much right in their backyard."

"So I've heard. But I don't foresee a solution here."

"Then I'll provide you with very clear instructions that'll get you one. You might wanna hang on to that U-Haul a little while longer. Go inside, pack your shit, and drive until Oakheart is a hundred miles in your rearview mirror. It's not a suggestion. Failure to adhere to those painstakingly clear instructions will result in your immediate arrest. I can promise you that."

Exhaust ever-present, Michael exhaled. "Listen, I doubt you'll ever believe me but I'm going to at least try and make you. I'm sorry that I hurt you."

"You think this is about me?"

"I had no clue that she was a kid." Michael fought to keep his voice at a respectable level. "I would never in a million years do something like that with a child, alright?"

"Yeah? Last time I checked, you were halfway there!"

"And I'm disgusted with myself. But I'm telling you, had I known that she was the age that she is, she and I never would've even known each other's name. That's the truth."

"Doesn't change a thing." Paloma marched off the porch, not even considering peeping over her shoulder as she said, "You have twenty-four hours."

"...Who's going to believe you?"

That stopped Paloma dead in her tracks. Her eyes narrowed just enough to induce a headache. She turned to look at Michael who remained at the front door. There was a twinge of remorse in his eyes but it was mostly washed away by his gravity.

"Come again?"

He lost his composure just a bit, his gaze softening. "I hate to say it but you have no...proof. Not that anything really happened between us in the first place."

"You call making out with a little girl 'nothing'?"

Michael closed his eyes and grimaced. "We kissed, and nothing else. I deleted my dating profile a long time ago and something tells me you made her do the same. So...there's nothing."

Paloma examined him like a lethal lion would a hyena that surrendered itself to oblivion. Even so, she said nothing.

"What happened—what I did—was terrible. I cared about you a lot; that much was sincere. But I hurt you and almost did something really, really bad. So, yeah, if I were you, I'd hate me, too."

Paloma was quickly learning that the word 'hate' was too juvenile a term to effectively describe the rage that she felt towards others sometimes. She'd only ever met a handful of people deserving of a term more foul and wicked but Michael was the most recent and, quite possibly the most deserving, by a long-shot.

"But what almost happened didn't. Not only that, but that's not who I am. I understand if you can't see that but it doesn't mean I'm going anywhere." That sigh was heavier than the last. "You won't hear from me again."

The door stopped during its quest to a close, Paloma's hand being the culprit. She was standing closer than ever and Michael couldn't help but wonder how she'd approached so inconspicuously.

"I hope I do. I really hope I do. More than anything, I hope that one day you get stupid enough to step foot on my property. That'll be your last day standing."

The door closed for good that time which was just fine with Paloma because she had more pressing matters to attend to.

Quinn had been holding her breath the entire time her sister had been gone; which felt like hours but was really no more than ten minutes. When Paloma finally did barrel through the door, however, it was not Quinn she went after but the teenager's cell phone.

"What happened?" Quinn peeked over Paloma's shoulder, frowning as the woman scrolled through the device. "What are you doing?"

It went on like that for a while. Unanswered questions and determined scrolling and swiping and searching. Eventually, Quinn had enough. "You're not finding anything. Are you?"

For the time being, Paloma abandoned her frantic search. "Doesn't mean you didn't contact him."

"Yes, it does!" When Paloma pocketed the cell phone, Quinn's frown deepened. "Why are you—"

"Tell me the truth and maybe one day when I can trust you—if I can trust you—you'll get it back."

"That is the truth!"

Paloma perched a hand over her hip. "You sure about that? I mean, it kind of feels like you've been lying to me nonstop since I got you; to an extent, at least. I asked you straight up if you had a boyfriend or girlfriend or anything even remotely resembling that and you never mentioned Michael even though, apparently, there was a whole lot going on there."

"What was I gonna say? 'I kinda sorta have an online boyfriend that I've been talking to but we've never officially met because I've been lying to him for the last year, and also, he's doesn't know that he's twice my age'?"

"You didn't say it because you knew that it was wrong!"

"No, but I do now! God, we've been over this a million times. I get it, I'm an idiot! But I cannot keep apologizing for that!"

"The nightmares." Paloma treaded lightly. "The mark on your wrist, too."

Quinn gritted her teeth. "What about 'em?"

"I feel like there's something you're not telling me. Like it's not the whole truth, like you're holding back or something."

"That's what the shrink's for."

Paloma's face scrunched up. "But I'm your sister! Why is it so easy to tell a stranger everything but not me?"

"It's not 'easy' but it is easier than talking to you." That quieted the brunette. "You think that mom and dad and Uncle Perry were judgmental? Look who's talking. I can't tell you anything that I'm not willing to have thrown back at me later. I follow all of your rules; even the ones that are bullshit and you being overprotective. I'm even in therapy, for God's sake and you're still on my back! You refuse to let me live down my mistakes!"

"Did you ever give any thought as to why I'm 'overprotective' and 'on your back' all the time? Maybe it's because I'm trying to protect you from people like Michael and situations like what happened at Perry's. Maybe it's the only way I know how."

"Well, find another way."

"Because it's that easy, right?" Paloma scoffed. "God, you have no idea." She raked her hands through her hair, joining them once they reached the tail of her mane. "I don't know what to believe about all of this, but I do know that, until I figure this out until I get to the truth, your place is here. And that means no laptop, no phones—nothing."

"So, because you won't believe the truth, that, for once, I didn't screw up, now I have to suffer?"

"That's not what this is." Sighing, Paloma rubbed her eyes. "But, honestly, I don't expect you to see it any other way."

Quinn smacked her lips. "Screw you. You know, Ava lucked out. She doesn't have to deal with your bullshit anymore. I only wish she took me with her."

That hurt, for sure, but Paloma didn't let the pain linger for long. "Go to your room." As if the instructions weren't clear enough to start with, she nodded towards the staircase. "Now."

"I'll do you one better."

Within seconds, Quinn was putting her arms through her jacket and yanking the front door open. She made certain to slam the door on her way out which elicited a ferocious flinch out of Paloma.

Still, for the first time, Paloma didn't want to go after her (not that her anger would let her step foot in her sister's direction). The only person she wanted was Ava but, Quinn was right, she wasn't there to deal with her bullshit anymore.