A/N: It's a short update, but I just wanted to post something and tell you guys Happy Holidays and I really appreciate you!

The plastic cracks and crinkles loudly as she rips the sticker off the bakery box and pulls the container open. I didn't get to see the bag that these came inside of but if I'm not mistaken, I think they're from this bakery in Elida called Manzetti's because the packaging looks familiar. If they are from Manzetti's, then they're super expensive. Every year for Mom's birthday, Dad used to pack me and Frannie up and make the drive over to Elida just to buy her a birthday cake. They make this really good almond cake with buttercream icing and it's Mom's absolute favorite.

Dad stopped going to Manzetti's for her cake the year after she found him cheating for the first time.

Bailey flips the top of the plastic container open and nudges it across the table so I can have first pick between the two cupcakes. One is light brown with light brown frosting and chopped up pieces of Reese's peanut butter cups sprinkled on top. I'm going to assume that one is peanut butter flavored and the one next to it is a chocolate cupcake with chocolate frosting and Kit-Kats chopped up on top. I'll go for the peanut butter one.

"Your hair looks great, by the way." Bailey picks up her share of the chocolate one and tosses the box onto the floor. "I didn't think of you as the type. I always thought there was no way you'd ever cut off all your long, pretty hair and I certainly never pictured you with a short little… it's almost like a bob? Whatever you wanna call it, it looks great on you. You look older. More mature. Less like a little baby."

"You think?" I reach up and run my fingers through my hair and I do like my new cut. I do like it. But it's a little weird to not feel my hair falling all down my back like it used to. I used to run my fingers through my hair and it didn't stop until I was to my boobs. Now it barely touches my shoulder and it's weird, but I think it's a good weird. "I cut it myself, actually. I just wanted a change."

"You cut it yourself?!" Her eyebrows raise up like I just revealed one of my darkest secrets. "No way!"

"I did," I nod and stare at the only piece of my hair that I can see. I didn't get all my split ends. "We're supposed to go to a salon after school to get it touched up because there are a couple uneven pieces and I want side-bangs cut out to frame my face, but yeah. I just took a pair of scissors last night and chopped. I figured if I didn't do it when I had the nerve, I'd never do it."

"Well you look amazing, and I'm glad you cut it." She peels the paper off her cupcake. "So how was your birthday? Did you do anything special? Or was the sleepover your friends threw you the big thing?"

"The sleepover was kind of the big thing," I pick a Reese's Cup off the frosting and pop it into my mouth. "My mom and dad took me to dinner, then Shelby —"

"Wait, you saw your mom and dad? That's huge… you wanna —"

"Not my real mom and dad," I say with a mouth full of frosting that I licked right off the top. "Sorry, I should've been more clear. But it wasn't my real mom and dad. It was Mercedes' mom and dad."

"So you call them 'mom' and 'dad' now? Interesting." She flips open her notebook and pulls the cap off her pen. "When did that start?"

"Just recently, I guess," I look away from her because making eye contact is a little bit too painful at the moment. It's kind of embarrassing to talk about how I call the Joneses "mom" and "dad" because I know it's wrong. I know that fundamentally, I have no right. But I just don't know what else to call them because "Mr. and Mrs. Jones" is starting to sound overwhelmingly wrong whenever they do everything they do for me. So I just don't know what to call them and I'm very confused. "They told me I could and I guess I've just been… you know… like… trying it out."

"Do you feel obligated to call them that? Do you feel like if you didn't call them that, they might get mad at you? Or upset?"

"Not really because they're not like that," I peel the paper off my cupcake and stare at it because I'm suddenly not hungry for a cupcake anymore but she paid a lot of money for them if they're from Manzetti's, so I really do have to eat it. "They didn't like, make me call them that. I just slipped up one day at dinner. I think it's because I hear Mercedes call them 'mom and dad' all the time and it just rubs off. So I slipped up one night at the dinner table and they didn't say anything to me about it, so I just decided that I wasn't going to do that. Then Patrice — err, Mrs. Jones — pulled me aside and told me that it was okay if I called them that. So I've been trying to figure out something to call them. I live in their house and they take really good care of me, don't you think I should call them something a little more personal than 'Mr. and Mrs.?"

"Well to be honest here Quinn, my main concern is you." She puts her pen down and takes her glasses off. "I think it's a beautiful thing what the Joneses are doing for you, and I'm a really huge fan of them. Honestly, I am. But I'm not really concerned whether their feelings are in check or not. What I'm concerned about is you, and making sure that your happiness isn't being jeopardized. I know you said you don't think their feelings are going to be hurt if you don't call them 'mom and dad', but what about your feelings? How do you feel about it?"

"I mean…" I smash my finger into the sponge of the cupcake. "I guess I want to call them that. If I think about it, I think I want to call them that. But I don't want to hurt my actual mom and dad. Honestly…? I think I'm just confused for the most part."

"Confused about what, sweetie?"

"Everything," I shrug. "It just seems like everything got better when I moved in with them. I'm like, actually happy right now. I come home every night and I know that I'm not going to be alone, which is huge. And then I can be with Rachel openly. And I feel like someone actually supports me and my whole… recovery process, I dunno. Everything just got so much better when I moved in with them and then I know it's not permanent and that I have to go home but then they really feel like my home so then I think maybe I'll stay but then I can't. I can't stay there. Not forever. Not legally. But then maybe my mom won't fight for me to come back, so maybe I can? But then what if she does? Then I'm back home and what if things get bad again? I can't just keep running away to the Joneses every time things are bad. I'm just… I'm confused."

"I wanna go back to something you just said for a minute," she puts her glasses back on and picks up her pen again. "You said when you come home from school, you know that you won't be alone and that's huge for you. I know you and me talked about how you used to be left home alone a lot and that's okay because you were sixteen, but was that something that bothered you?"

"A little, I guess." It bothered me a lot. I don't mean to sound like a baby, but I needed someone there with me. Maybe not all the time and maybe not forever, but I was in the house by myself all the time and it was just so… lonely. I was always by myself. "It's not like I wanted my mom home with me all the time, but I just felt like… like… like she gets eight hours a day by herself when I'm at school. When I'm home from school, can't she just be there with me for a few hours?"

"Why do you think it bothered you so much to be left alone?"

"I dunno. It never bothered me before, so I don't really know why it bothered me then." I shrug again and I feel tears about to roll down my cheeks. "I guess maybe I was scared?"

"I think you were scared, too." She hands me a tissue. "Scared to be left alone."

"Yeah," I nod and sniff as I dab my eyes with the tissue. "And it's like she didn't see that. It's like she didn't see that I didn't want to be alone and she didn't care."

"You wanna talk about why you were afraid to be left alone in your house?" She hands me yet another tissue for the fresh round of tears that just fell down. "It's okay if you need a minute, sweetheart. You take all the time you need."

I don't know why I was scared, Bailey. All I know is that I was. I was absolutely terrified to be left alone in my house as much as I was. And I don't mean to crucify my mom because I was sixteen and more than capable of being left alone in the house. I don't think she's a bad mom for leaving me alone. I wasn't a baby who needed constant supervision. But every time I came home and saw that she wasn't there, I got this overwhelming anxiety and it made my heart beat fast and my legs shake and I got so scared. Every single time. And I don't know why because I never really asked myself.

I guess maybe I was scared because… maybe it was because I… because….

"I knew that if I wanted to do it I could do it and actually succeed," I fold my arms across my chest and look down at the desk. "She wasn't there, so that meant she wasn't there to catch me or save me like she did that night. So if I wanted to do it, I had the freedom to do it and she wouldn't be there to make sure I failed this time."

"There you go," she reaches across the desk and pats my arm. "So it boils down to that you didn't trust yourself."

"Yeah," I nod. "It was scary. Because I didn't know if I was going to do it again and if I did do it again, Mom wasn't there to help me if I made a mistake."

"Do you think you made a mistake that night?"

"No…"

"Quinn," she leans back in her chair and crosses her legs. "We've come a really long way. I remember the first session, you and me almost had it out with each other. Then you kept skipping and I was having to drop you as a patient but then something happened and now here we are. We've come a really long way, you and me. And I think we're to the point where we can be totally honest with each other, yes?"

"Yes."

"So I need you to start being honest with me. Because I know there are some things you still haven't been telling me the truth about. And I'm not angry with you, I'm not. I know that you're not always truthful with yourself. But in order for me to get you to where you need to be, you have to be honest with me. Alright?"

"Okay."

"What happened that night?"

I already told you what happened. I was trying to sleep so I could see Beth in my dreams and nothing was working so I kept taking more and more pills. I took everything I could find in the medicine cabinet and then some. I just wanted to sleep. I told you that already.

"You want to ask me something?" She offers, voice low and polite. She's trying to level the playing field and it's not going to work because I have nothing else to reveal about the night I overdosed. I told her everything. "You can ask me anything. Anything that you've been wanting to know. I'll answer you honestly. Completely honest. As long as you're honest with me."

"...Are you married?" I eye the gold ring on her finger. It's really breathtaking and it has to be a wedding ring or something. This is a golden opportunity, actually. I've always wanted to know a few things about Bailey….

"Divorced. Two years. I still wear the ring because I bought it myself. Stupid ex-husband told me he'd pay me back the money if I bought our engagement rings and guess who's never seen a dime? That should've been the first red flag, huh?"

I snicker and try not to choke on a laugh. "Men are pretty terrible, yeah." I drum my fingers along the desk like I'm thinking, but I already have the questions lined up. "Where do you live?"

"Elida, about twenty minutes from Lima."

So they were from Manzetti's! She lives in Elida! "You have any kids?"

"I have a ten-year-old little boy who is extremely active and keeps me on my toes. His name is Quinn. Quinn Michael."

"No way…" my jaw drops. "Why haven't you ever told me this?! Your son's name is my name?! That's so crazy! You never told me!"

"Well you never asked, and these sessions aren't really about me," she laughs. "I admit, I was a little biased towards you when we first met and you told me to call you Quinn. I thought I was going to like you immediately. I went home and told my Quinnie that I met a girl with his name and he was tickled."

"My mom used to call me Quinnie, too." I sigh but try not to dwell on it for too long because clearly my mother can't be counted on. No call on my birthday, nothing. "What made you decide to be a therapist?"

"You want the long story or the short story, kid?"

"Long."

"Long story is that I was a very… not depressed, not neglected, but… a very troubled kid, I'd say," she looks me right in the eyes as she tells me this story and I hope that one day I can have as much courage as she does to tell stories like this. "I had trouble fitting in, my mom was a single mom who worked three jobs to take care of four kids, we didn't have much money, I wasn't popular, didn't have the nicest clothes… all that jazz. And I was bullied pretty bad in middle school because I was chubby and didn't have good clothes and nice hair, you know how kids can be. But I was bullied and I resorted to things. I self-harmed, I struggled on and off with anorexia and bulimia. I was in college when I finally got some help. I was a freshman in college and I was a chemistry major and I finally got some help. I had a really excellent therapist and she made me want to be just like her. So now I'm helping kids. Kids younger than me. I don't want them to have to wait until their in college to face their demons."

Wow. I never would have guessed. I guess I kind of viewed Bailey the same way we view teachers. I didn't think she had a life outside of this classroom and outside of her office but lo and behold. She has a life where she's divorced and has a kid and she had an entire life before she was my therapist and quite honestly… my saving grace. She struggled with a lot of the same things as me… maybe I should tell her. Maybe I should tell her that I still do. I mean, it hasn't been a big problem since I moved in with the Joneses and I mostly only do it at school when I eat a little too much, which is rare. I haven't done it in a few days. I never do it at home anymore. But maybe I should tell her that I still do throw up sometimes… just so she knows she's not alone…

"Hey Bailey, I —"

"That's enough about me, kiddo. It's time for you to be honest with me now, okay?" She leans back in her chair again, and I'm starting to notice that she does that whenever she's settling in to listen to me. "What was the best part of your birthday yesterday?"

"Honestly? Probably seeing Beth." I tuck my hair behind my ears and it's going to take me a while to get used to not following my hair down my shoulders when I tuck it. "Shelby brought her over to drop off my present and she let her stay with us while she went to the store. Mr. and Mrs. Jones loved her. And Shelby said I can start watching her over at my house if I want to."

"That's pretty awesome, wow. Are you going to watch her at your house or at Shelby's house?"

"I don't know. I want to watch her at my house so Mr. and Mrs. Jones get to know her. I mean, I feel like they're my mom and dad so I want Beth to get to know her grandparents. But I also don't want her to feel out of place and she's comfortable at her own house, so. I really don't know. Maybe I'll split it. Wednesdays at my house and Thursdays at hers."

"And how are things going with her? Does she still cry when she's left with you?"

"No! Which is amazing, actually!" I'm gushing. I can't help it though. "Shelby left her with me yesterday and she didn't make a sound. She just laid on my chest and sucked her fingers. The only time she cried was when I tried to hand her to my mom. She cried for me, but that's it. I think she actually likes me now."

"See! I told you! She just needed to get used to you. But I told you. Babies know their mothers. They never forget who they grew inside of. I told you Beth still knows you." She jots something down in her notebook. "And what about Rachel? Did you spend your birthday with her at all?"

"Not really. She wanted to give me time with my family for my birthday since we spent all of Friday and most of Saturday together. And she came over Sunday, too. So she backed off yesterday, but we spent some time together in school. She sang me a song on the piano and gave me this," I pull my chain from where it was tucked underneath the collar of my shirt. "It has an 'R' on it. For Rachel. And she wears one that has a 'Q' on it for Quinn."

"That is really pretty," she touches the chain with very gentle fingers. "Wow. I'd like to meet this Rachel. She seems fancy."

"Oh, she is. She's so high maintenance, Bailey. When we were in Hershey, she refused to eat any of the chocolate because she didn't see the factory workers prepare it. And she won't eat anything that has blue dye in it. And she won't wear jewelry unless it's real gold or real silver. No cubic zirconia or brass. She's a literal nightmare."

Bailey starts to laugh, but she doesn't realize how serious I am! Rachel is a disaster! "She sounds like a Kardashian."

"She acts like one! I swear, we went to Cedar Point and she was so mad about having to walk through the parking lot because she didn't want the asphalt to stick to her shoes. Like… not to brag, but my mother has never bought me a pair of shoes that cost less than $70. And I walked on the asphalt. I was like, 'Rachel. Get a grip.' She's a tough cookie."

Bailey keeps laughing and I guess it is pretty funny how hard Rachel can be, but it's even funnier if you know that I can be just as hard as her sometimes. But never harder. Rachel has me beat, I think. "But she cares about you, which is important."

"She's the most amazing person I've ever met," I touch my necklace while I think about her because I'm starting to miss her… "She's… honestly? She's selfish. But when you get to know her the way I know her, you start to realize that it's just insecurity. Because when she loves you… god, it's amazing. There's nothing she won't do for you. She honestly keeps me going. There's… there's no strong one between us, you know? It's not like I'm always falling apart and she's picking me up. I mean, I do fall apart a lot and she does pick me up. But I do the same for her. When she's weak, she leans on me and when I'm weak, I lean on her. I think… I mean, I know we're only sixteen and seventeen and we're in high school. But I really think she might be my soulmate. I really do."

"That's really beautiful, Quinn," she grins at me like she's actually genuinely happy for me and for a moment, I catch myself wishing that my mom would be that happy for me when it comes to Rachel. But Bailey isn't my mom, my mother is hardheaded, and she will never be happy for me when I talk about Rachel like that. "...So, are you ready to talk to me about the night your mom found you unconscious?"

"Why do we have to talk about it at all, Bailey?" I sigh. "Don't you know everything?"

"I know the basics. I know how much you took, what order you took them in and your reasoning as to why you took them. But I don't hear the truth. So until I hear the truth, yes. We do have to talk about it." She clears her throat. "You need to be honest with me, Quinn. No more saying that you just wanted to sleep. I know that's bull. If it was true, you wouldn't have been so afraid of what you might do when you were left in the house alone. So you need to be honest with me and yourself. You were trying to commit suicide, not trying to sleep."

I shift in my chair because this is suddenly extremely uncomfortable…

"Can we talk about it next time?" I ask. "We only have a few minutes left and I really want to talk to you about tonight. I'm having dinner with Rachel's parents and I'm kinda nervous. We can talk about it on Saturday, I promise."

"You promise?"

"I promise."

"...Fine."

Whew… I dodged a bullet there.

A/N: So like I said, it's a short update but I really appreciate you guys and wanted a way to show you guys how much I do. With that being said, I made you guys a little present! Unfortunately, I can't post it here, so you'd have to head over to tumblr to check it out, but I'll leave the link below.

I just had the idea to make a couple little edits to go along with the story. So I made both Quinn and Rachel's instagram accounts, and you can go take a peek if you type the address below into your browser :)

flawlesspeasant . tumblr .

com / all-the-best

Happy Holidays, guys! I hope you like your present! :)