Deceptive (Diamondback MC Second Generation 5)

COLLINS

“No alcoholor drug use while taking this medicine,” the doctor tells me. For the longest time, I tried to do everything on my own. When you start failing at life, and no amount of talking to your family or friends helps, well, I guess then it’s time to turn to a doctor.

“Okay, what about my appetite? I’ve heard that there can be a decrease in that. No offense, Dr. Jenkins, I know most women wouldn’t mind losing weight, but I’m not sure that’s a great idea for me.” I look down at my curvy frame, similar to my mother’s. If I start dropping weight, well, that will just create even more problems that I don’t want to address.

“That does tend to happen. Try to eat small meals throughout the day; protein bars or shakes will help. Sadly, they haven’t gotten that part down yet. If you’re noticing it happen rapidly, come back in, and we’ll adjust your dosage.” Never in my life at my age did I think I’d finally figure out the reason why I can excel at so many things, besides test taking, given the fact that I have no idea what I want to do with my life and I’m back in school, this was my only option. It’s not like my parents are paying for college this time around. Don’t get me wrong; they’d help anyway they could. If I let them, which I won’t. They helped the first time. It’s not their fault that I absolutely hated being a paralegal. I couldn’t keep my attention span during court and was relegated to transcribing other paralegals’ work in order to maintain my job. I tried, I truly did, until I looked in the mirror and saw how miserable I was and decided it was time for a change. This time, I’m back in school for something entirely different: hair. Talk about a career change.

“Okay, this won’t affect my birth control either, will it?” God, I love kids, but in no way shape or form am I ready for them. Neither is Paxton, not that I’m aware of at least.

“Nope, it won’t. I promise you, Collins, once you’re regulated on this dosage, you’ll see a world of difference. A word of advice, though; if you decided to take yourself off without professional help, it will make you feel like you’re going through withdrawals, so please be careful.” I nod in response. If this medicine works like she describes, and my mind will actually think things through and not go in every which direction, there’s no way I’ll ever do that.

“Thank you, Dr. Jenkins.” She’s already sent my prescription to the local pharmacy. I know, I know, I could call my uncle in Texas, and he could have helped just as easily without me even seeing a doctor. There’s just one small problem with that: I’d have to admit things to him, things that I’m just now coming to terms with.

“You’re welcome. I’ll see you in four weeks.” She walks out the door. I fall back on the exam room table, needing to wrap my head around this diagnosis she gave me in the span of fifteen minutes. Why didn’t I do this earlier? Why didn’t my parents see this? Why didn’t I ask for help when I was younger? All these questions are swirling in my brain. One thing for sure is that I’m going to have to tell Paxton, and maybe my parents, too.

Attention deficit hyperactivity disorder, in the predominantly inattentive style. It makes perfectly logical sense now that I think about it. My attention span is that of a gnat, I procrastinate for everything, to-do lists don’t even help, and let’s not get started on the forgetfulness the second a test is put in front of me. I take one last deep breath, let it out, and then get off the table. It’s time for me to get out of here, letting another patient in so they won’t be late for the whole day. Then maybe I’ll pick up my prescription and head to my parents’ house. Dad won’t be there, which might be a blessing in disguise. I love my parents, like most children do, but I swear it can sometimes be suffocating, even still now that I’m finally out of the house, working while going to school. Yet they think I’m the golden daughter and that my younger brother, who’s not even that young anymore, still should look up to me when really, they coddled Blaine so much that he left. Literally left, wanting nothing to do with the club or our family the minute he turned eighteen. Blaine will check in every few months or so, but coming home? Nope, that never happens. It eats at my parents. It eats at me. He’s my baby brother even though there was so much pressure on me to ‘lead by example,’ I still miss the turd bucket.

I walk out of the exam room and stop to make my appointment because if I don’t, I’ll probably forget. This time, I put the reminder in my phone for the day before and day of just in case. Then it’s me and more of my never-ending thoughts about what needs to be done, a jumbled mess in my head, never shutting up. It’s a wonder I can sleep at night. Though, I have a feeling it has a lot to do with Pax wearing me out until I’m so tired that nothing can make me move. My phone is still in my hand when a text message comes through.

Ice: won’t be home tonight, got club shit to do. you know how to use your key

Paxton, better known as Ice around the club, is straight to the point, no capitalization, and you’re lucky if he uses punctuation.

Me: Okay, be safe

I know he’s not one to have a full-blown conversation via text, not that he’d tell me what club business he was taking care of anyways. That’s for the men, you know, pound on your chest, I am Alpha, hear me roar type of thing. I roll my eyes. There’s no changing a man who’s a brother in the MC world, not that I’d want to anyways. Paxton is pretty freaking spectacular the way he is. I guess going to visit with my mom and telling her about what’s going on couldn’t have come at a better time. With any luck, maybe Dad will be there, too. I’d much rather not have to explain that their twenty-nine-year-old daughter is a mess more than I have to.