Edge of Recovery

Molly E. Lee

Contents

Edge Of Recovery

Copyright

Quote

Rock Bottom

1. Powerless

2. Restore me to Sanity

3. Turn my will and life over

4. Fearless moral inventory of myself

5. Confession

6. Remove defects of character

7. Remove shortcomings

8. Amends

9. Direct Amends

10. Admitted when wrong

11. Knowledge of will and the power to carry it out

12. Awakening

Epilogue

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Edge Of Recovery

An On The Edge Novella

By Molly E. Lee

Edge of Recovery

Molly E. Lee

Copyright © 2016 by Molly E. Lee All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you’d like to share it with. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

Visit my website at www.mollyelee.com

Cover Designer: Regina Wamba at Mae I Design

ISBN# eBook: 978-0-9973464-8-0

ISBN# Paperback: 978-0-9973464-9-7

“I have absolutely no pleasure in the stimulants in which I sometimes so madly indulge. It has not been in the pursuit of pleasure that I have periled life and reputation and reason. It has been the desperate attempt to escape from torturing memories, from a sense of insupportable loneliness and a dread of some strange impending doom.” 

― Edgar Allan Poe

Rock Bottom

The vodka was sharp and cheap, but it slid down easy enough. A piss-warm beer chaser threatened my gag reflex, but I swallowed that shit and motioned to the bartender for another.

“All out, Justin,” he said and shook his head.

“Fuck you saying?” My tongue felt thick, and my cheeks may as well have been packed with sand with how hard it was to shape the words.

Dave, the asshole bartender, walked over, lowering his head across the bar. “Come on, man. I don’t need this shit tonight. Go home. Sleep it off.”

I tried to lean closer to him, show him how pissed off I was over his miss-placed intentions, but the wooden bar underneath my elbows wobbled, and I slid to the left slightly.

“I’m fine. One more. I’ll leave after.” I slapped a wad of sweat-soaked ones on the trembling bar. Why won’t it stop moving?

He pushed the money back toward me. “Let me call someone for you.”

I hissed, a dark chuckle rumbling off my near-numb lips.

“Excuse me?” A douche in a backward-bedazzled cap called from the opposite end of the bar. “You serving drinks or what?”

I cut my eyes over the chump. “Yeah, to me.” I refocused on Dave, trying to soften my gaze. We had a love-hate relationship, me and Dave. He either was my favorite person, or my least favorite person, and the one and only constant I had left in my life.

“Just a minute,” Dave said, pointing to bejeweled-boy. “Justin, man, just tell me who to call. I’m not even worried about you clearing your tab tonight. I just want you to get home. Take a break. Drink some water for a change.”

I could barely feel my forehead scrunching, so I made sure to try harder to fasten the rage that boiled in my gut, on my face. “Fuck you, Dave. You sell drinks. I buy them. It’s not rocket science. And this isn’t group therapy.”

Dave’s shoulders slumped, and he reached for the bottle I knew he kept three feet to the left of where I’d chosen to sit every day since…

The clear, beautiful bottle touched the lip of my empty double-shot glass, and my mouth watered.

One more. That’s all I need. And I’ll forget. It’ll make me forget.

A loud smack on the bar didn’t make me jump, but it startled Dave, causing him to draw the bottle back and glare at the sparkly dude who has his hand splayed out on the bar.

“Two pitchers of Bud, please.” He said please like fucking now. I only notice because he’s speaking my language but at the wrong fucking time.

“Back up, bedazzled. I was here first.” I nodded to Dave, eyeing the gloriously half-empty bottle in his hand.

“Looks like you’re here all the time, loser. Can’t you leave some for the rest of us?” The two dudes behind him laughed and snorted, and they all looked like puffed up like frat boys. I fucking hated frat boys.

Before I blinked, I’d stood up so fast the barstool scooted across the floor behind me. My arms were heavy but strong, and bedazzled’s shirt—which I now realized had beads on it too—felt like cardboard clenched between my fingers.

His friends pulled and tugged on my arms, but the look I cut them was enough to send them backward a few feet. I focused on bejeweled but still couldn’t really make out the color of his eyes. Blue? Brown? Who gave a shit?

I lifted him to his toes despite his struggle against my grip. “Fuck you call me?”

“Relax, man. Just wanted a drink.”

“Good little frat boys have to wait their turn.” My words were slurred and muffled even in my head. I let go of his shirt, shoving him so hard he flung into the bar behind him, knocking over three stools. His friends were quick to pick him up. Funny, how loyal those guys were…like fucking dogs.

The flash of a fat white bulldog blazed behind my eyes, and I clenched them shut.

Something sharp hit me in the stomach, and the breath shot out of my lungs as my spine slammed into the hardwood beneath me. No thoughts, I just started swinging.

My fist connected easily with bedazzled’s head, cracking against his temple as he tried to land a punch from on top of me. Somehow—six, no seven?—drinks in and this chump was still slower than me. It was a good clean hit, and he fell to the side, covering the part of his skull I’d aimed for but this was far from over.

“Sucker hit? Really?” I scrambled to my feet which felt as steady as jackhammers and cracked another punch across his jaw. The sickening crunch of skin and bone made adrenaline rush in my blood, and it felt almost better than a shot of vodka.

He struggled underneath my weight, and I lifted him up by his collar, only to drop him with another punch. Frat-dummy one and two are back, pinning my arms behind me. Bedazzled somehow managed to stand, blood dripping into his thick eyebrows, and from the corner of his mouth.

I raised my chin, my attempts to get free of the frat-dummies unsuccessful.

Stars burst across my vision as bedazzled retaliated, his fist sinking hard and low into my kidney. I doubled over, sucking in air like I had a straw for an airway.

That’s when all three came at me. Jabs and hits landed on my back, my side, and jaw. I blocked what I could but my reaction time wasn’t what it should’ve been. I missed too much, but the blood pulsing in my ears was fuel for the fire constantly roaring in my chest.

Thrashing, snarling, like the fucking monster I was, I made connection, dropping one of the dudes to his knees. Frat-dummy number two went for my balls, and I barely blocked him.

“Not cool, bro,” I said, shaking my head and breaking his nose on principle.

Bedazzled took the opportunity to horse-collar me, and I slipped. My ass hit the floor, and the douche dragged me through the double doors of the bar. I saw Dave’s wide eyes, a phone pressed to his ear, just as the doors swung shut.

A hard boot sunk into my gut and I hissed, curling in on myself. “Damn. When did frats make the switch from loafers to steel-toe?” I spit, staining the pavement red.

Night has blanketed the area, the darkness stunning me. The sun had been shining when I went in to see Dave.

Oomph!

Another kick to the gut. I pressed against the pavement with my palms, my brain telling my body to get the fuck up and finish this.

Crack!

I flung backward, a razor-wire of pain wrapping from my jawline to the base of my skull with a swift kick in the head. The night sky above me spun in thick heavy circles, the edges of my vision blurry.

“Stay down,” bedazzled said, leaning over me. He spits, a hot spray hitting me in the face.

Another ending played out in my mind—one where I got up, delivered the last hit, and then Dave gives me my fucking drink.

A final, sharp kick to my side rattled my spine, shaking my core, and I lose sight of the sky completely.

Black filled my eyes, the thick kind that refused to clear no matter how many times I asked it to.

* * *

Justin? Blake’s voice is clear…so fucking clear and my body immediately responded to it, begging me to wake the fuck up.

Justin, stop, you’re hurting me!

The spot in the center of my chest flared—that damned spot that did nothing but rage. The one I could only numb with vodka. I forced my eyelids to move, glancing around frantically for the bottle I kept on my nightstand.

I reached for it but ran into a cold plastic railing instead.

Where the hell am I?

“Justin.”

The voice shot ice through my veins, and I froze in my attempts to reach for something that wasn’t there. Because I’m not in my bedroom. The acrid scent of disinfectant combined with the shit bed underneath me screamed hospital.

“Justin?” My aunt’s voice cracked, and I finally moved, forcing my palms into my eyes as I scooted up to a sitting position.

Wake up. Wake up.

“Sir?” A male voice joined the room and from the tone, I suspected the voice had a uniform attached to it. “We need to ask you some questions.”

Cop. Fucking knew it.

I dropped my hands, the gray gunk over my eyes cleared. The cop stood closest to my bed, notebook in hand. I glanced down, unable to look for my aunt, though I knew she was in the room. My upper half was bare except for a full wrap bandage, a spider web of purple peeking out of the top. I shifted, trying to sit up straighter, and winced.

“Mr. Hobbs,” the cop said, “Can you tell me what you remember about last night?”

I closed my eyes again, the heavy sigh on my lips sending a sharp pain down my left side.

The memory was fuzzy, clouded, like a sink-full of dirty water.

“Does it matter?” I finally choked out, focusing on the cop. My bottom lip was split and the dried blood was metallic on the tip of my tongue.

“It does. This is your third recorded incident of public violence and the gentleman is pressing charges.”

I huffed. “Funny how if you have money you’re a gentleman and if you’re me you’re a…” I turned my head to the side. “What would you call me, Officer?”

“A cry for help.” The cop shook his head and flipped his notebook closed. I think I’ve seen him somewhere before, but I couldn’t be sure.

“Can I have a minute alone with my nephew?” And there she is. My aunt. The woman I’d avoided since I was sixteen years old. She stepped around the officer, a pair of khakis and white blouse hanging off her tiny frame. Her hair is the same, long, brown, and frizzy at the ends.

“I’ll be outside, Ma’am.”

She nodded at the cop as he shut the door behind him. Her fingers trembled as she wrung them in and out.

“Why are you here?” I asked.

“The paramedics called Blake,” she said, taking a step closer to the bed and I flinched.

Blake. A fog covered nightmare. Her scream.

“They got her number from your old employer, Spray Goods?” She continued. “She called me. She couldn’t be here. She’s on a chase in the Texas Panhandle.”

I tilted my head. Was it storm season already? Fuck, where had the last six months gone?

“She wouldn’t have come even if she was in town. Hell, even if she was in the hospital.” I shrugged, enjoying the pain that rocketed up my body. “Not like I’d need her to. Not the first fight I’ve ever been in.”

“What happened?”

I cocked an eyebrow at her, shocked at how much she looked the same and yet how unfamiliar the woman was to me. I’d once called her mother, loved her more than anything on the planet. That was before she decided to abandon me. Just like my biological mother. And…everyone.

“They told me you lost your job.”

“Yeah.” That’s what happened when you showed up to work drunk too many times and screwed up a set of four-thousand-unit shipments.

“And you’re no longer with Blake?”

My eyes cut to her, and I wondered how much Blake had told her. How much had Blake revealed about our past?

“Again. Why are you here?”

She crossed her arms over her chest and sighed. “I’m sorry about what happened all those years ago, Justin. I tried to reconnect, you know, after your uncle and I divorced. You would never hear me out.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore. Nothing does.”

She sank down on my bed, her light weight barely budging the mattress. I jerked my hand away when she tried to reach for it. “That’s what worries me,” she said.

A chuckle ripped from my busted lips. “Yeah? Now you’re worried. Brilliant. I’m a grown man. You don’t need to worry about me. Hell, you don’t need to think about me.”

Tears coated her eyes, and I sucked in a sharp breath. Damn it.

“That’s where you’re wrong, Justin. I do worry. I care about you, believe it or not. And getting this call? Speaking with that officer out there that seems to know more about you than I do? It was the final push I needed.” She grabbed my hand, forcing new and unwanted compassion on me. “I’m here to help you.”

I yanked out of her touch, throwing my legs over the opposite side of the bed. Every muscle in my body screamed, the pain in my sides searing. A throbbing ache pulsed at the back of my head and I rubbed my neck, my eyes darting around the cold hospital room, searching for a drink I knew wasn’t there. I wonder if they keep any on site?

I doubted it. The sooner I got out of here and to a stiff drink the better. I could think clearer that way. Figure out what the hell to do about my aunt.

“I don’t need your help.” I finally said, turning to lean against the wall on the opposite side of the room.

She stood, smoothing out the stiff sheets on the bed. “Yes, you do.”

“No---“

“You do. Justin.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Blake told me enough. And the officer rounded out the tale. You want me to enlighten you?”

I sucked my teeth. “You have no right to be here.”

“I’m the last chance you have.” She held out her fingers, ticking off facts. “You were fired from your job. You lost the only real girlfriend you ever had. And you’re three months behind on rent, on the brink of getting evicted.”

I shrugged. “Not news to me.” That’s what happened when nothing mattered anymore. When you couldn’t stand to look in a mirror or be alone in the room with yourself for more than five minutes.

“Here’s a fresh twist,” she said. “You’re going to jail this time.”

I snapped my eyes to her.

“Oh yeah.” She nodded and pointed toward the closed door. “They’re giving me this courtesy of speaking with you only because they’re waiting on the nurses to discharge you. Once they do? You’re going straight to jail.”

The wind knocked out of my lungs like I’d gotten body slammed to the pavement again.

“You want me to bail you out?”

My lips parted open. How would I get a drink in jail?

“Too bad,” she said before I could answer.

Flames licked my chest. “Then you’re just here to gloat? To tell me I turned into the exact, horrible human being you knew I’d turn out to be?”

Tears rolled down her cheeks, but she didn’t move. “No, Justin. I want to help you.” She swiped the tears away. “I need to own my part in the way your life has gone. And that starts with getting you help. You’re sick.”

I glanced down before cocking an eyebrow at her. “I’m perfectly healthy.”

“No, no you’re not.” Her bottom lip trembled as she tried to hold back more tears. “You’re an alcoholic, prone to violent tendencies, and you need help.”

“I’m not a fucking alcoholic,” I snapped. “I’m just…” What was I doing? I didn’t have to explain myself to someone who hadn’t ever been there for me in the past.

She fed you. Took you on family vacations. Sang to you when you had nightmares.

I clenched my eyes shut forcing the memories away.

“I’ll make you a deal,” she said. “I’ll talk to the judge on your behalf. Get you as little jail time as possible, if…”

I finally looked up at her. “What?”

“You commit to a live-in rehabilitation clinic.”

“You want me to go to rehab? Are you serious?”

“Absolutely. I’ve already put down a deposit on a room for a ninety-day program for you.”

The sound of clear liquid hitting an empty glass echoed in my ears—the sound that acted as a balm for my burning soul. The feel of it sliding down my throat, the sting, the numbing that came with each swallow, tugged on my tongue, begging, aching, for a taste.

“You have two options,” she said after I’d remained silent for who knew how long, envisioning the easiest way to get out of both jail time and rehab. “One, go to jail, refuse my help, and take the time they give you. It’ll probably be at least a year with your past offenses. Unless, of course, you get out in six months because of good behavior, but let’s face it, Justin, that temper of yours? Encased and trapped behind bars and nothing but the cold concrete walls to keep you company? You’ll probably only extend your time there.”

Damn. She may not know me, but she knew me on the surface. “Rehab is just another type of jail.”

She shrugged. “Well, this one has counselors and better food. Not to mention people who have been through situations like yours…lived through it, and want to help.” She crossed the space between us and cupped my cheek. “Option number two has more perks than prison. It’s the most prestigious facility in Oklahoma. They treat all manner of addictions and mental health difficulties there.”

“And if I go to the crazy house, do my ninety days…then what?” Maybe I could do it. Get it over with. Get out and never see her again. Forget this ever happened.

“You live your life. Finally.”

“I have been living,” I said.

She shook her head. “Oh, honey. I don’t think you can remember the last time you actually lived.”

I moved out of her touch, uncomfortable with how close she hit the mark. I didn’t know who I was anymore. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt complete. Even before Blake happened…something was missing. Maybe I was broken. Maybe there was no help for me. I was too dark, too twisted, with a hunger to feed the rage inside that was hard to slake with anything other than the alcohol she wanted me to give up.

“Mr. Hobbs?” The officer opened the door, a pair of cuffs in his hand. A nurse came in behind him, holding a stack of my discharge papers and my torn up shirt from the night before. I slipped it on and signed the papers before holding my wrists out to the cop, my eyes on my aunt.

“What’s it going to be, Justin?” She asked as he slapped the cuffs on me.

“Two. I’ll take door number two.”

The officer led me out of the room, each step sending another shockwave of pain across my nerve-endings. The farther I got away from my aunt and the closer I got to prison, I found it harder and harder to breathe.

Rehab wouldn’t work. I wasn’t the kind of person who could be redeemed. But I also wasn’t the type of man to survive prison. My short fuse would either kill me or someone else. Plus, I wouldn’t be able to drink there. And I could drink on the outside. Rehab or not, I’d be free after gritting my teeth for a few months. Maybe I could sleep half the time away.

Only if the nightmares stopped.

Nightmares. I wish they were only that, but what I dreamt about was real. Memories from my past, haunting me until I could do nothing but drink to erase them. Without it, I wouldn’t have a defense against them or the thoughts that plagued me on a second-by-second basis.

Fuck. It would be a long three months.

* * *

“Tell me I’ve got a trial date,” I said, gripping the ancient beige phone between my fingers. An officer stood just to my left, practically humping my leg. “It’s been three weeks in this shit hole.”

“The judge finally set a date. You’re due in court next Thursday.” My aunt’s voice was light and hopeful on the other end of the line, and my shoulders drooped.

Thank fucking hell. “About time.”

“You’re lucky we got it to happen that quickly,” she snapped.

I swallowed and ground my teeth. Damn it. She was right. I knew it. I would’ve been stuck in here for over a year if she hadn’t pulled every old connection she had from when she’d worked as a paralegal years ago.

“Sorry.” I tried not to spit out the word. Despite her help in this stupid ass situation, she hadn’t been present in my life in over a decade. “It’s not a picnic here.” I shifted my weight, completely aware of the stiff cop’s eyes on me, hanging on my every word.

“You haven’t gotten into any tussles have you?”

Tussles? Who the hell says that?

“No.” Not that I’d ever tell her but I sure as hell wasn’t going to elaborate on why my stay in state prison hadn’t been worse. My cellmate—Devlin—had made me an offer on day two I couldn’t refuse. I’d remain untouched and unfucked with if I simply pedaled his drugs to the pathetic junkies he kept on his full list of clients.

Why me? I’d asked.

Other than you’re my new best friend for an undetermined amount of time? Devlin had stood from the tiny bottom bunk bed, his massive professional-wrestler-like frame taking up more than half of the room.

Yeah. I’d shrugged, not the slightest bit intimidated by the Rock-wannabe. Hard to be scared when you’ve got nothing left to lose.

You’re an addict, so you get the score, but your drug of choice isn’t what I sell. You won’t steal my shit.

And if I agree?

I’ll make sure no one fucks with you. Word is you’re a short fuse and guys love to test the fish.

I’d stepped so close to him our chests bumped. Not a fish. And who the fuck talked to you? I’ve been here two days.

I’m in good with the guards. Got a look at your file. I know everything about you, Justin. You’re exactly what I need. Someone who clearly doesn’t give a shit about anything, who is willing to crack skulls at the drop of a douche saying the wrong word.

I’d chuckled and shook my head, taking a step back. I was sleeping on a board of a bed, eating shit food, and becoming intimate with the concrete walls because one bedazzled douche bag had called me a loser. In retrospect, didn’t really seem worth it. Still, the memory of his bone-crunching beneath my knuckles sent a rush of adrenaline through my veins.

I’ll do it. I’d agreed. Just give me the score.

“Justin?” My aunt asked as if she’d asked more than once.

“Yeah?”

“Are you prepared to sign into the facility I chose for you?”

I sighed. “Yes.”

“Perfect.” She practically giggled. “You’ll be so much happier, Justin. I know they’ll help. And then maybe we can---“

“My time’s up,” I cut her off. “See you in court.” I hung up the phone and ignored the glance from the cop who looked like he was part robot except for his one arching eyebrow. I had at least three minutes left, but I didn’t need to hear my aunt paint a future I knew wasn’t possible.

She was a means to an end.

While Devlin had made this stay in prison more functional by keeping the wrong people away from me, it wasn’t such a grand life that I wanted to stay here. Rehab would be better than this, and she was my only way out. The judge damn sure wouldn’t have listened to me, wouldn’t have trusted my assurance that I’d never disturb the public again—and for good reason. There was no lock for my temper. I’d fucking tried. It was just something I lived with—the hot, bubbling rage just beneath the surface of my soul was always a breath away—so much a part of me I wouldn’t know how to live without it, couldn’t remember a time before it.

“Sup, bro?” Devlin asked as the cop nudged me back into my cell and slammed the bars home. I winked at the cop before flipping him off behind his back, because I wasn’t so stupid to bring down the fury of the man.

“Court date.”

“When?” Devlin sat up from where he’d been laying on the bed, his massive limbs hanging well over the ends.

“Next week.”

“How the fuck you get it so quick?”

“A family member pulled a favor.” I stripped my white t-shirt over my head, dropped to the small amount of cold concrete we had as a floor, and started doing pushups. That was one thing about prison, the only thing I could do to prevent my mind from thinking about how long it’d been since I’d had a proper drink was work the shit out of it. Devlin had gotten his hands on a few bottles of NyQuil and had helped me ration it to quell the body-shaking withdraws that had threatened me my first night there. The syrup was nothing compared to the sharp bite of vodka my tongue wanted, but it worked.

“So the clinic deal will work?” he asked as I pushed up and down, exhaling on each rise.

“Yup. Wouldn’t be going this soon if it wasn’t in place.”

“Nice, rehab.”

I cut my eyes to him without breaking the pace of my push-ups. “Yeah, it’ll be like Disneyland.”

“Damn straight it will. Get your head out of your ass, Justin.”

I hopped to my feet in an instant, and Devlin was up and towering over me just as quickly. “You got something to say?”

“Drop back to the floor, man. You know you don’t stand a chance against me.”

I scoffed. “Fucking try me.”

Devlin smiled, sitting back down. “Really? After all I’ve done for you? Maybe you really do have an anger problem.” He chuckled and I sunk back to the floor.

“Yeah maybe,” I said. “And maybe rehab will be the answer to all my degraded little problems.”

“They will be for mine, for sure.”

“Last time I checked you weren’t an addict.”

“Nope. But they’re my business. And you’ll be reaching an entirely new market for me. I’ve wanted to expand for years now.”

I slowed my pace, holding myself fully extended for a minute before rising to my feet again. “What’s that now?”

“The rehab clinic you’re going to? It’s outfitted for the elite. Celebrities, trust-fund babies, and the like. You think they’re there because they want to be? Not a chance. They’re there to appease someone—a publicist, the public, a family member with the rights to the bank account. They need drugs, just like you needed any kind of alcohol I could scrounge up for you.”

“I didn’t need it.” I crossed my arms over my chest, ignoring the memory of the shakes that had racked my body and the insatiable thirst that had made my insides feel like they caved in on themselves.

“Please. You would’ve sucked my dick for a drink.”

I threw a punch—no thought, no breath—aimed right at his big fucking jaw. A massive paw of a hand stopped my fist cold, and he stood up from the bed, clutching my fist so hard the bones seared. I jerked my hand away from him.

“That one is free, Justin. And only because you’ll be another contact on the outside. A distributor in the clinic.”

I shook out my fingers. “Fuck you.”

“You’re not my type.”

“Your loss, I’m a beast.” I didn’t really believe that about myself, but I could fake it. Blake’s panicked eyes flashed behind my closed lids, and I raked my fingers through the hair I’d let grow too long.

Devlin chuckled, and I shrugged, the tension breaking. I really didn’t want to fight the dude, so I was happy to let the shit slide.

“You’re in, though, right?”

I sighed. “The currency has to change.”

“Ahh, the inevitable negotiations. What do you want?”

“Well, I won’t need your protection anymore.”

“Not as long as you stay in line, no.”

“You know how good I am at that.”

“And you know I have people everywhere. Outside, inside. There is nowhere I can’t get to you if you fuck me over.”

“You’re not my type,” I mimicked him.

“Good. I kind of like you even if you are an angry asshole. Now, what do you want?”

“Twenty percent?”

“Ten.”

“Fifteen. I’m taking all the risk.”

“Risk of what? Ending up right back here?” Devlin shrugged.

“This isn’t really the place I want to call home for the rest of my life. No offense.”

“I won’t be in here forever.”

I tilted my head. He was serving the front end of a ten-year sentence for trafficking.

“Like I said, I have people everywhere. Connections everywhere. I won’t see the end of my sentence. I may copy your deal and get out early.”

“You are not an addict,” I said.

“Yeah, and neither are you, right?” Devlin cocked an eyebrow at me.

“Right.” I shook my head. “Do we have a deal or what?”

He reached out his hand, and I shook the meaty paw. “Fifteen. And Justin?” He asked and gripped my hand with a fury when I’d tried to let go. “I meant what I said. You fuck me over on this, try to disappear, and I’ll search out the one thing you love, and destroy it. Understand?”

An effortless grin shaped my lips. “Absolutely.” He finally let go of my hand, and I went back to my push-ups in peaceful silence.

This would be perfect. I’d do my ninety-days, stay off the cop’s radar, and make a shit-ton of cash giving celebs their drugs when they couldn’t score from their suburban dealers. Once released, I’d figure out a new place to live, and a new bar to occupy. I’d leave Devlin and his deal here to rot. Because he could threaten me all he wanted, I didn’t give a shit.

There was nothing I loved left for him to destroy.

1

Powerless

“Hi. My name is Justin. I don’t know why the fuck you guys keep making me tell you my name. You know who I am by now. And I’ve been sober for eight days.” A small succession of claps—or what I’d like to call claps but were really more like limp hands hitting clammy skin—surrounded the circle, and once again I wondered what the fuck I was doing there.

Eight days ago I was released from prison, the judge taking pity on my aunt and her pleas, her promises that I had a real chance of turning my life around if I had treatment in this clinic. I’d agreed with her while in court. Then I went home to pack some clothes and downed every half-empty bottle of vodka I’d had left in the place. I was drunk as all hell when I returned to her immaculately clean car so it didn’t even sting when she’d told me my landlord had called her looking for rent. She refused to pay the bill, understandably, it was massive. So the moment I checked into rehab, I officially had no place to live.

“Nice of you to join us again, Justin,” Thomas, the group leader, said.

“Not like I have a choice.” I sat further back in the plush leather chair that was part of the ridiculous circle of people. Today’s group meeting was just off the billiards room, which had a sweet set up with pool tables and darts but unfortunately didn’t have the most pleasurable asset—alcohol. The thought made saliva rush in the back of my cheeks and the sharp pain between my eyes magnified.

“You always have a choice. We’re here to listen. You don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to.”

I huffed, clenching my fists to try and dull the ache in my head. I didn’t have a choice. I had to be here, not only because I had nowhere else to go besides back to prison, but because this is where Devlin’s potential buyers were. I scanned the other six people in the circle, noting the difference in pain showing on all their faces—some simply looked numb, staring off into space as they shut everything out, some twitched or scratched at their skin without realizing, and some looked one word away from snapping.

“What would you like to talk about today, Justin?” Thomas urged.

I rubbed my palms on the hard fabric of my jeans. “Nothing.”

Thomas sighed but nodded. “All right, well, what about small talk? Have you been enjoying the outdoor activities in this beautiful weather we’ve been having lately?”

“The fucking weather? Are you serious?” I snapped and clenched my eyes shut. Weather was synonymous with thoughts of Blake, which directly connected with the festering sore in my chest that kept her panic stricken eyes on repeat in my mind.

Thomas shifted in his seat and adjusted his thin gray cardigan. Fucking dude was Mr. Rodgers 2.0, an eight-year sober recovering alcoholic. He also happened to be my assigned therapist for my three-month stint. There was no way this piece of granola would ever be able to understand the shit that went on in my head, and as of today, we’d had three sessions together. All of which were practically silent, with me saying no more than two worded answers. He didn’t push but today he was trying harder with me, in front of other patients, and I didn’t like it.

“You have something against the weather? It’s been pretty calm this storm season.”

I flinched, my blood running so hot in my veins it practically sizzled out of my pores. Storm season. Bane of my existence. If she hadn’t met him, chased with him, maybe she’d be…

No. You know better.

I pinched the bridge of my nose, taking the deep breaths Mr. Rodgers had talked about in our first session. I didn’t want Blake back. I wanted to erase her. Erase our history. Rewrite it where I hadn’t become the monster and she hadn’t become the victim, but I didn’t even know where to start. It was too deep, too dark, and too twisted to uncoil. And the worst part? I hadn’t realized how bad it was until it was beyond too late.

So, the only thing I could do now was drink her—and the monster I’d become—away. Numb myself to the past that haunted me and to the future that was ripe with nothing but more disappointment.

“I lost my job,” I blurted out, anything to get him to not talk about the weather. “Anyone else here have that happen to them?” I wanted to stop speaking, and I knew the best way to do that was get someone else to unload about their own shit.

“Yeah, man. I did,” Conner said after no one spoke. He sat up straighter in his chair, his black hair dropping in front of his eyes. I raised my chin to him—a silent thank you for stealing the unwanted spotlight.

He was my “neighbor” in the room right next to mine and had offered me one of his cigarettes on day one. Didn’t ask what I was in for or if I needed to talk, simply showed me where we were allowed to smoke outside. I’d liked him instantly, and we’d taken to eating all our meals at the same table, talking about random shit, never letting it get too personal. It was a nice way to pass the time between therapy sessions and mandatory fun.

“I was four days into an all out meth-fest. Couldn’t distinguish reality from hallucination. Was certain my boss was trying to kill me. So I lashed out at him with a knife from the kitchen I worked in as a busser. Fucking meth, man.” Conner shrugged like that explained everything, and in a way, I guess it did. I hadn’t realized that was his drug of choice, but I’d had one night with the junk and would never go back. The shit it made me see…made me think…well, I was bad enough on my own. I didn’t need any more incentive to let the hungry darkness inside me consume all that I was.

“Was that before you came here for help?” Thomas asked him.

Conner shook his head. “Nah. That was a few years ago.”

“I see,” Thomas said, writing notes on his clipboard like he’d jot down the insight to our souls at some point and crack the code on the cure to our afflictions. Good fucking luck.

“Was he an asshole?” I asked before I could stop myself.

Conner chuckled. “Hell yes. Dick was always hitting on the waitresses and working them to the bone. I’m not sorry for going after him, just sorry I can’t remember it.”

I reached over and gave him a fist-bump. Thomas sighed audibly and glared at me, his pen in hand. He scribbled something else down, and I cocked an eyebrow at him, daring him to try to get in my head.

Not a place you want to be, dude. I tried to convey the message with my eyes, but he didn’t flinch—which was the typical response from the general population when I fastened them with the look.

Unless you were Blake.

In the beginning, she’d hand it right back to me, her hands on her hips. I’d worn her threadbare by the end, though, so much that she’d crumble in on herself and do whatever I’d tell her. I’d convinced myself the satisfaction in her submission was out of the most primal pieces of my soul, that relationships worked that way, that she was supposed to cower under my anger, and rise to my passion. It wasn’t until she’d pushed back when I’d almost…

I swallowed a mouthful of bile that crept up my throat. I needed a fucking drink. Her voice was too clear in my head, her frightful scream right in my ear.

The foggy glass over my relationship had been shattered that night by my own hand, and only got worse the clearer things became over the course of weeks afterward. The beat down I’d gotten from that tool, the only fight I’d ever only half participated in, had been another shot of truth to the face.

I had fucked up. I was fucked up. And I had no clue where to go from there.

Apparently, the answer had been prison. And now rehab.

“Thanks for sharing, Conner.” Thomas’ voice cut through my thoughts. “Group will meet in the promenade tomorrow, same time. I encourage you all to take advantage of the beautiful weather and explore the lake or boating house for your leisurely activities today before mess bell.”

A couple of people from the group bolted out of their chairs, their quick efforts to leave as fast as possible not lost on Thomas by the look of his strained face. I almost felt sorry for the guy. He genuinely seemed like he wanted to help these people—even me—but the part of me that knew he was fighting a useless, endless battle, knew better than to pity him.

Conner stayed in his chair and his laid-back lounged position made him look like he’d been in the situation several times before. I leaned my elbows on my knees, motioning to him with a nod.

“You didn’t tell me this wasn’t your first clinic.”

Conner shrugged but chuckled. “Didn’t realize we were to the sharing stage of our relationship.”

I shook my head. “How many times you do this?”

He rolled his hazel eyes upward like he was mentally counting. “Five?”

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah.” He sighed, rubbing his palms together. “Never sticks. The craving hit me early on, and I’ve been powerless to stop it since.”

I pressed my lips together. “I hear that, man,” I said, leaning further back into my chair. I’d started drinking right before my aunt and uncle turned me out on the streets, and it had only gotten worse the more I realized it was the only thing that took me away from myself…someone I’d grown to hate without even realizing. By the time I did, I was so deep into it I couldn’t stop. And more so, I didn’t want to.

The taste of vodka pulsed on the back of my throat, teasing me with thirst, with the sensation the clear liquid could offer if I got my hands on a bottle. I cracked my knuckles, wanting to punch Devlin in the face. Why couldn’t he sneak me a bottle in here? Why did it only have to be drugs?

Clenching my eyes shut, I took a deep breath and tried not to think about how many more fucking days I had in this place. How many hours it’d be before I could take a drink. The pills stashed in the pocket of my jeans grew hot, and the temptation was there, but I’d tried pills before. They didn’t numb me like the drink did. They only made me over analyze every aspect of the past that haunted me, and I did enough of that sober.

“How many for you?” Conner asked.

“First time.”

“Damn. The first one is the worst,” he said, taking his pack of cigarettes out and smacking the lid against his palm.

I nodded. “It’s no Disneyland.”

He chuckled and popped a cigarette toward me, motioning toward the doors that exited to the grounds behind us. I took the cigarette and followed him, the sun near blinding as we stepped outside.

My aunt had spared no expense when securing me a room here. The facility was more like a resort than a rehab clinic—if you overlooked the fact that its “guests” were all some form of junkie or alchi with or without various other mental health issues. The building itself was a stucco mansion, with more rooms than I could count, and it sat on over a hundred acres of plush green grass, complete with a crystal-clear lake, and every kind of toy—from jet skis to horseback riding—you could want. If you were into that sort of thing. Which I wasn’t.

Conner chose a spot at one of the wooden picnic tables resting underneath the shade of a massive oak tree, and I straddled the bench across from him, lighting the end of my cigarette.

The smoke felt good in my lungs but barely made a dent in the pulse-pounding thirst that wouldn’t quit throbbing.

“You think this time it’ll stick?” I asked, continuing our earlier conversation.

Conner sucked in a sharp breath, blowing out a stream of smoke so slowly I assumed he didn’t know the answer. “I want it to.”

“Really?” I cocked an eyebrow at him. “Not trying to get all touchy feely here, man, but I call bull shit.”

He laughed, taking another long drag. “I’m exhausted. Being two different people—the one I am inside,” he said, touching his chest before flicking his ashes to the side, “—and the one I wish I was—it’s a nightmare I can’t wake up from.” He shrugged. “I’ll have periods of clarity, where I can see how my life would play out if I just stopped…but then the need hits me, and I’m sunk. Can’t fight it. Even when I’m clean for a while…” he grabbed his neck. “it’s like the craving is constantly there like a collar just waiting for me to choke.”

“Truth.” I nodded, breathing in the smoke in an attempt to erase the memory of the taste in my mouth.

“It’s easier when I have people around me. Like my brother,” he continued, grinning. “That dude is a pain in the ass, but no one keeps me grounded like him.”

“Wouldn’t know,” I said, putting out the end of my cigarette on the sole of my boot.

“You don’t have anyone?”

“Nope.”

“How’d you afford this place?”

“My aunt paid for it, but she’s not my family. She kicked me to the curb at sixteen and only recently popped back up.” I shrugged. “She got me out of jail, though, so this was the price.”

“Not too steep. Assault?” Conner tilted his head.

I cut my eyes to him. “Is it that obvious?”

“You have that look about you.”

“You see? I chuckled. “I’m fucked.”

“Nah, man. It’s never too late. You can’t change. No one can do that, but you can rearrange how your trigger works.”

“How do you do that?”

“Once I figure it out, I’ll let you know,” he said.

“While you work on that,” I said, glancing over my shoulder. We were alone on the grounds, but I still leaned over the table. “If you need help…weaning, I’ve got you covered.”

His eyebrows twitched, and he licked his lips. “Yeah?”

I nodded.

Shaking his head, he stood up and sucked the last of his cigarette down to the filter. “Nah, man. I really want to see my brother again after this. If I slip on the inside? Shit, he won’t come around.”

I pushed off the bench. “No worries, bro. You know where to find me if the withdraws get too rough.”

He immediately smacked his pack against his palm again, a little too rapidly. “You know if you get caught you’ll go straight back to jail. Do not pass go, do not collect two-hundred-dollars.” He sucked through his teeth. “I wouldn’t want to do a stretch that long inside. I’d rather be here. We’ve got women, and cookies.”

I laughed, understanding his position but ignoring the free advice. I didn’t care at this point, plus I had no intentions of getting caught. “I feel you, though I haven’t seen one cookie yet.”

He slapped me on the back. “Just wait.”

2

Restore me to Sanity

“You do understand that I fill out progress forms, don’t you, Justin?” Thomas steepled his fingers over his immaculate mahogany desk. He’d set his pen down a half-hour ago after I’d refused to speak to him.

“I did not know that,” I said, shifting against the plush leather couch I was currently sunk into.

He slipped his glasses off and pinched the bridge of his nose. Carefully cleaning the lens with the sleeve of his cardigan, he shook his head. “I want to help you. I really do. But if you don’t talk to me, I’ll be forced to tell the judge that you aren’t cooperating in the program, which would be like saying you’d rather be in jail than here.”

Fuck. I didn’t want that, but I didn’t want to talk to him either. Damned if I did, damned if I didn’t. How much could I say without really saying anything? My mind calculated the possibilities while he stared me down, waiting for me to make the choice between a full-sized pillow top mattress and a twin-sized board pinned inside three concrete walls and a set of bars.

“Fine, Justin. Your choice.” Thomas pushed back from his desk, his hand gripping the knob of his door. Clearly, he’d taken my hesitation as my preference for the latter.

He jerked the door open, and I stood up, fully prepared to take my dismissal.

“Come with me,” he said, stepping into the hallway.

“Where?”

“Just follow me.” He walked through the clinic, which I had easily learned the massive layout of in the past two weeks I’d been here. It was amazing the useless shit I could accomplish when the day didn’t revolve around locating my next drink.

Thomas took a sharp left, his sneakers not making a noise against the polished marble floor. “Give me the room, please,” he said as we entered the facility’s gym which consisted of a weight room, an array of treadmills and ellipticals, and a full-sized boxing ring.

There were several other guys in there, plus a few chicks I had yet to meet officially. Conner set down the twenty-pound dumbbells he’d been curling and sauntered over to us. He flashed me a silent side-eye, and I shrugged as he led the way outside. After the room had cleared, Thomas walked to the right of the ring where they kept the gloves. He scooped up a pair and tossed them at me.

“I’ll make you a deal,” he said, stripping off his cardigan, leaving him in just a t-shirt and jeans.

“Holy shit,” I interrupted him. “You almost look normal.”

He slid his hands into a pair of gloves. “Funny. Now, if I land a hit, you have to answer a question, and it has to be the truth.” He hopped up on the side of the ring, lifting one leg over the side and stepping in its center. “If I can’t touch you, I’ll give you a good report for the entire month.”

I scoffed, immediately slipping on the pair he’d tossed me. “You’re on.”

No way Mr. Rodgers could land a hit. I’d been fighting all my life, and it wasn’t with kid gloves either. I met him in the ring, shaking out my limbs, getting a feel for the weight of the gloves that covered my usually bare knuckles.

“You have to be honest, though, Justin. I need your word.”

I shook my head. “I’m an asshole, not a douche.”

“I figured this wouldn’t be a hard sell.” He bounced around, cracking his neck with one big rotation.

“Yeah, is that why you cleared the room? Didn’t want any of your other “patients” to see you get your ass handed to you?”

He pointed a gloved hand at me. “That,” he chuckled. “And just in case I get lucky. You have to tell the truth and sessions are strictly confidential.”

“You always play by the rules?” I taunted, adrenaline surging in my gut. I hadn’t had a decent fight since the bedazzled boy who started this whole mess, and I could really use a good scrap.

“You think this would fly under the facility’s code for conducting therapy sessions?”

I circled him and shrugged. “Figured it would. The whole place runs more like a celebrity-nap-house. With activities.”

“Better than prison, right?” He cocked an eyebrow at me, and I couldn’t wait to punch it off his face. I hated that he had any sort of power over me but the fact that he could give me a bad report and make it look like I wasn’t participating in my deal, effectively sending my ass back to prison, made it kind of hard to ignore him.

“Take your best shot,” I said, raising my hands in a block position.

He took a deep breath like he was about to meditate, not fight, and I laughed.

Then he struck out with the speed of a blink, and I barely dodge his jab.

“Shit, Doc. You the Flash’s dad?”

“Maybe,” he danced around me, and I countered, darting a right jab toward his vulnerable jaw.

He dodged it, only to bolt a left jab to my kidney. I doubled over, the weight of the hit like a truck, pushing the air out of my lungs. I glared up at him.

“When did you start drinking?” He asked, though he never stopped moving.

“Seriously?” I straightened myself, the air returning to my lungs.

“I take this very seriously, Justin.”

That much was evident. “No,” I shook my head. “Seriously, or the actual point in life I took my first drink?”

“Both.” He blocked my second attempt at that jaw of his.

“First drink at fourteen.” I advanced, jabbing left twice and then hooking right. The dude was quick as if he could anticipate my moves, and it made my blood boil.

“Did I not tell you what my sponsor made me do to forget about how bad I wanted a bottle of whiskey and no interruptions?” He faked left and swung right, his thick glove socking my cheek so hard my head snapped back. “Boxing. Hours and hours of boxing.”

“You hustling, asshole.” I spit pink on the white mat.

He shrugged. “So, the first time you realized you couldn’t go a day without drinking?”

I sighed through clenched teeth and danced around him while searching my mind. He didn’t attempt to toss a punch while waiting for an answer. At least he didn’t fight dirty.

The road to the memory was fractured—from when I’d blacked out, or when I’d blocked out certain chunks of time. Hunting for a specific time in my past was like jumping hurdles, only not the standard track kind, but instead large, gaping holes filled with sticky black tar. One wrong move, one slip, and the memories would suck me downward, drown me, and spit out my shell.

“Around the same time I started avoiding mirrors,” I said after a few moments. It sounded girly as fuck, but it was the truth.

My heart pounded against my chest, the adrenaline surging through my veins, a defense mechanism every time someone tried to dig beneath the surface, and it was doubled up due to dodging hits.

I swung a hard right hook, lashing out when he seemed contemplative of my answer and made connection with his left side. He hissed, and satisfaction rippled through me at the feel of flesh giving underneath my strength. It only amped up my rage, and I went after him in a fury, which is exactly what he’d expected.

He countered my attack and landed a gnarly jab of his own.

“Fuck.” I bounced up and down on the balls of my feet to shake off the sting in my rib.

“Tell me more about the mirrors.” He asked when I hadn’t answered him. “Was it an appearance issue?”

“No,” I shook my head and threw my gloved hands in the air, not really knowing how to explain. “It just…happened. I woke up, saw myself, and didn’t recognize who looked back at me. It wasn’t that I’d changed physically, but…” I sighed. “I had no clue who that was. I just knew I didn’t like him.” I swung left, then right, over and over, trying frantically to land a hit. The more he dodged my attempts, the hotter my skin grew, the heavier my arms became.

“Just like that?” Thomas snapped and lashed out, his movements quicker than I could catch my breath. Fuck I needed to quit smoking. “No change in your life forced this to happen?”

“I don’t know.” I swung out and missed. Fuck.

“You have to know. Think harder. What changed that day? That week? Month?”

“I. Don’t. Know.” I annunciated every word for the Ph.D asshole and jabbed three times with no success. Shit.

“I don’t buy it.” He held off, bouncing backward toward the thick red ropes.

I glared at him, hating him even more in that instant. The itch to break his face seared from the fingertips under the gloves but he was as fast as he was annoying. I advanced, striking again but missing.

“You know you wouldn’t stand a chance against me if this were a legit fight,” I said, the breath in my lungs sharp and hot. I was two hits from dropping or ten swings away from collapse.

“Whatever you have to tell yourself. Now, if you want me to start giving you good reports, you have to give me something. Dig deeper.”

“Fuck!” I snapped, swinging and connecting with his shoulder as he avoided my head shot. “I don’t know!”

“Who was in your life at the time? What were they doing? Was it your job? Think!” He jabbed right, cracking me square in the jaw.

The ring spun me slightly, not enough to fog my vision but enough to make me reach for the rope to my left to steady myself. Had to give Mr. Rodgers credit where it was fucking due. Neighborly asshole was running a fight club in his basement right next to his train set.

I leaned against the rope, breathing through my burning nose, and letting it out of my mouth. I closed my eyes and saw nothing but Blake. Her long brown hair wrapped tight in a ponytail, a sleek black tank covering her incredible breasts…but she wasn’t happy. She was crying. She thought I didn’t see. That I didn’t know why.

“Blake,” I whispered her name, but Thomas heard me all the same.

“Your ex-girlfriend?” He was right next to me, one hand on the rope, the other hanging heavy at his side.

“How did you---“

“Your aunt provided us with all the history she could.”

My stomach dropped to the mat. I still didn’t have a clue how much Blake had told her when she’d been contacted while out chasing. I swallowed the acid in my throat, wishing it was a sharper, clearer liquid that would make the memory fucking die.

“So, what about Blake? Was she there the day you realized you couldn’t be around mirrors anymore?”

I cut my eyes to him.

He raised a gloved hand, the muscle in the arms I never saw because of the fucking cardigans rippled like a silent threat. “Would you rather I hit you again?”

“Yes,” I said and let out a dark laugh when he cocked his arm back. I shook my head. “Yes to your question, Doc.”

He dropped his hand. “Had she said something to you? Degraded you because of your habit?”

I shook my head.

“Then what?”

I took a deep breath. I’d never spoken to anyone about this, not even Blake.

“I’d hurt her.”

Thomas nodded like it wasn’t a big surprise. And maybe it wasn’t. Maybe I didn’t suppress the monster I was as well as I thought I did.

“Physically? Emotionally? Was it deliberate?”

I closed my eyes again and sank to the mat, the fight leaving me. If I shut my eyes, I could be talking about someone else. It wouldn’t really be me.

“Both. All three actually.”

“And?”

“And…”

What had she asked me to do? I couldn’t even remember, only that I hadn’t wanted to do it. I’d been exhausted, as usual, from work and she’d wanted me to go out somewhere. Like that was so fucking bad.

“She kept pushing for me to do something that day. I don’t know what it was. And I snapped. For so long she’d been perfectly happy just being with me. She didn’t need anything else. I was her only boyfriend ever, and she never chose to do anything but what I wanted, and that’s how I liked it. Wanted it. Then she fucking went to college and everything shifted. She kept pushing for change and new…and I couldn’t do it.” I sighed, the memory of standing in our potential future apartment in Tulsa, the lease in my hands, flashing behind my eyes. The threat I’d made if she chose the school over me. I could see it, but it wasn’t crystal clear…it was like watching someone else through a fogged set of glasses.

“I knew that day,” I forced myself to continue, knowing the doc would never let me be if I didn’t. “I’d never be the man she wanted me to be—the one who jumped at the chance of new possibilities, adventures, the one who could keep pace with her, the one who could let her be free to become the amazing woman I knew she was.” I swallowed hard. “I didn’t want her to go anywhere, be anyone. She was mine, and I liked her where she was. And I assumed if she loved me like she had for so many years, she would eventually realize there was nothing more important than me, than us. So, it became second nature to shut her down the second she asked for anything I wasn’t up for.”

Thomas sank down next to me. “Go on.”

“That day, in particular, she’d pushed a little harder, trying everything to get me out of the house. I was fucking beat, just off a twelve-hour shift, and I wanted to relax, but she kept pushing. I snapped, blew up, and then fucked her until she was raw.”

The Adams-apple bobbed underneath Thomas’ skin, and I dropped my eyes to the mat.

“And afterward?” He urged.

My breath hissed out of my lips, and I slammed the tips of the gloves into my eyes from where they stung. They smell of vinyl and sweat filled my nose.

“She was crying. I tried to act like I didn’t notice. Didn’t realize what I’d done to her, what I’d been doing to her.” I pushed harder against my closed lids, trying to force the image of her limping to the bathroom out of my head. “When I went to clean myself up…that was when I looked up and didn’t know who the fuck I was anymore. I just…” I let my hands fall. “Don’t understand what’s wrong with me. It doesn’t matter that I loved her—she was the one I wanted to hurt the most because she was supposed to be mine. She was supposed to be the one who never pushed me, questioned me. She was…everything to me. My world. And I fucking destroyed her.” I shook my head.

“There is something wrong with me, Doc. I know there is. But it’s too broken to fix.” I smacked a glove against my chest. “What I’ve done? There is no coming back from it. No forgiveness. So, yeah.” I shrugged. “I drink. I drink and drink until I can’t hear her cries, can’t hear her voice begging me to be tender, begging me to see her for who she was. I drink until every piece of my rotting soul is numb and I can’t even remember my name, let alone all the things I’ve done or why, for the life of me, I can’t understand why in the hell I did them in the first place.” There. That should be enough to get him off my back. Maybe if I was lucky it’d scare him off of ever asking me to open up again because no one needed to see what was going on in my mind, ever.

Thomas punched my shoulder so hard it seared. “You’re not broken, Justin.”

I scoffed and punched him back.

“You’re not broken,” he repeated. “You couldn’t tell me this story, with the perspective you have on it now, if you were. The first step in recovering from anything—addiction or possessiveness or anger issues—is recognizing that you have them. And you’re absolutely aware, now that you’ve had distance, what you did was wrong.”

“Yeah, I knew then, but I kept doing it, stuck to my ways under the delusion that that’s how the world worked. I had my place, and she had hers.” I ground my teeth together to stop the words coming out of my mouth. Fuck, once I opened up I couldn’t stop.

“Well, I’m here to help you. You can come back from this, Justin. And without the drink.”

“Fat fucking chance. Nothing else works. Unless you want to prescribe me some pills that turn me into a zombie?”

“You don’t need medication. You need education.”

“Fuck you,” I said, shooting to my feet. “I may have never completed high school, but I’ve learned enough to know education has nothing to do with what I am. It’s genetic, or God lost a bet when making me. I’ve got more of the devil in me than anyone I know, and the only thing that soothes the ache is his poison of choice.”

Thomas shook his head, rising to my position. “You have to want my help, Justin. I won’t just give it to you. So if you’re going to meet my every attempt with a smart ass, you-know-better-than-me comment…you’re up shit creek. One that leads straight back to prison.” He shoved me this time, not bothering to swing.

I pushed him back, sending his ass into the ropes behind him. He came back fast, cracking me across the cheek so hard my head snapped to the side. I retaliated instantly, a hard jab to the side followed by a blissfully landed hit to his jaw. Fucking finally.

“You Gaslighted that girl!” He snapped, three jabs to my gut.

I dropped my fists and took a wide step back, sucking in sharp breaths. “What?”

“Gaslighting. It’s a new term in the world of abuse, but it basically means you attempted to destroy her perception of reality. That’s what happened. You cut her down and made her believe there was nothing outside of the world you defined for her. And you did it as a form of control. To keep her.”

I fell back onto the mat my head between my gloves.

“Now you have a name for the demon, just like alcohol. Things with names are easier to conquer, overcome.” He slipped his gloves off and let them fall to the mat beside me. “The question is, was it really out of love or was it out of a malicious intent because you enjoyed seeing her in pain?” Thomas’ eyes locked with mine, never blinking as he waited for my answer.

“I never wanted to hurt her.” I ripped off my gloves, curling my fists and stopping the tear that was about to roll down my cheek.

“You just didn’t want her to leave.”

I nodded.

“But you thought she would because you didn’t feel good enough for her.”

“I wasn’t. I’m not. Never will be. That was the problem. I wasn’t stupid. I just wanted her to be.”

Thomas sighed and leaned back against the ropes.

The sour sting in my gut both amplified and lessened at the same time—if that was fucking possible. I tried to catch my breath as my body seared in various places all over my body. My muscles ached, but they weren’t itching for a fight like normal.

Thomas only had a sliver of my dirty laundry, but it felt like a tiny weight had lifted off my chest. I didn’t realize that was possible without a shot glass and a bottle, but it had to be a fluke. A survival instinct to keep me out of prison or a combination of the thrill of the fight and the need to give him what he wanted.

“I’m going to ask you again, are you ready for my help?”

I licked my lips really ready for a fucking drink, but I nodded. “Yes…”

“But...”

“There is no help for me, Doc. How can there be?”

“First step is trusting me. I know that will be hard for you, given your background, but you’ve already made a huge stride today in telling me this.”

“You had to beat it out of me. Next time won’t be so easy.”

“You think that was easy?” He chuckled, still catching his breath as well. “We’ve found the root. Now we just need to dig around it.”

I snorted. “You make it sound easy.”

“It’s not. I won’t lie to you. You have to want this. You have to want to be the better man, the one I know is in there. I can’t do it alone. But you know what?”

“What?”

“You won’t have to either.”

“Great.” Mr. Rodgers was going to fix me and make unicorns jump around and clean the house I no longer had all while making alcohol taste like shit to me. “I think you have your hands full,” I said, but I had over two months left here. Maybe he could help me and maybe he couldn’t. Either way, I couldn’t get kicked out of this place. I couldn’t go back to prison, back to where Devlin called every move of my life. I liked him where he was, behind bars. Sure, I still pedaled his shit, but that was for the money now, not protection.

“That’s why I’ve called in help,” Thomas said, drawing my attention as he hopped out of the ring.

“Oh yeah?” I asked as I followed him, hands shoved in my pockets to hide my trembling fingers. “Who’s that?”

“Your sponsor is on vacation now but will be here in a couple weeks.” He held the gym door open for me. Conner waited at the end of the hall, leaning against the wall.

“A sponsor? Are you fucking kidding me?” I asked, returning my attention to Thomas.

He shrugged, an easy smile on his lips. “Mine is the only reason I’ve remained sober for as long as I have.”

I raised my chin to him, wondering what kind of drunk he’d been. With his neighborly attitude and sweaters, I constantly forgot he had once been in a similar situation as me. Well, not exactly, but close.

I shook my head and made my way to Conner.

“You need a smoke, man?” He asked instead of asking me why the fuck my lip was bleeding or why I held my side.

“Bad.”

He nodded, and we walked silently toward the back of the facility.

I wanted the nicotine buzz to be enough to quell the urge pulsing in the back of my throat for the one thing that would help suppress all the buried shit I’d just dug up, but if I was being honest, it was the seed of hope I just felt planted with a punch in my gut that terrified me more.

3

Turn my will and life over

The celebrity—if you could call him that, more like a glorified reality star who got paid to be an idiot on screen—was more than grateful to fund Devlin’s business endeavors. I’d just left my best customer’s room, a suite twice the size of mine that came complete with a welcomed entourage of his three closest “people”, and was on the hunt for Conner and his never ending supply of smokes.

It wasn’t like I couldn’t get them—the facility was all about supporting the replacement of one evil for a lesser one—but it was simply easier to bum one off him. And, I liked hanging around the dude. He didn’t push for information too much, and he sure as hell didn’t try to write my problem off as lesser than his because it was liquor and not meth.

Plus, there was the whole, not-ratting-me-out thing that worked in his favor. I’d spent more time than I’d like recently wondering what I’d do if he asked me for the drugs I’d offered to sell him weeks ago. Now that I’d known him longer, and understood his desire to do better, this time, I really didn’t want to sell to him. He may have been the only person in the whole place who I could say that about.

There was Thomas, though, the good doctor. He’d moved our “sessions” to the ring after the first time had worked so well. My face and gut sported bruises that shone like badges of how well he was doing in his efforts to crack me open and tinker around. The talking sucked and did nothing but reawaken the nightmares that played in high definition without the alcohol-hazed sleep I’d become accustomed to over the last year, but, I loved the fight. The crunch of skin and bone, despite the gloves, released me in ways nothing else had. I could still feel it, enjoy it. There was nothing like a proper brawl to release the pent up anger that accompanied me everywhere just below my skin.

“You have an anger management problem,” Thomas had said after our second fight where he’d beat out an instance where I’d taken pleasure in crushing one of Blake’s high school guy friends for saying something smart to me. Looking back, and through this new and extremely-stranger like set of eyes, I knew how senseless it was. But I couldn’t take it back any more than I could take back any other terrible thing I’d done.

And, I wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but I truly didn’t want to live like that anymore.

The event that scripted my reoccurring nightmare—that last night with Blake—was when the switch flipped. When I realized just what I’d become. The doc had helped me figure that out, not that I’d let him know about it. I hadn’t uttered a word about that night to anyone—outside of that tool Dash, who had gotten a mouthful from me before we brawled when he’d showed up at my place unannounced the day after.

The memory of taking his hits, letting him work out his rage and giving back just a fraction of my own, smacked me like a bag of hammers. I’d known he was well within his right to act out like he had. Hell, I would’ve done worse to myself—had done worse to myself since that night—and I still didn’t feel like I would ever rid myself of the dirt that clung to my soul from my actions.

Thomas said he could help me—despite not knowing all the details—and I kind of believed him, neighborly as he was. Though, I was trying not to set my expectations too high—I was excellent at disappointing myself.

“Fuck you!” The curse word sounded way too elegant coming out of the girl’s mouth as I came around the corner, heading toward Conner and my designated smoke spot. The scene I happened upon immediately set me on edge—a petite girl with short dark-blue hair cut at a sharp angle, looked up at Brad—a blond douche who talked too much in group, who also happened to be the size of a house. She pushed against his massive chest, but he didn’t budge. “You are the worst!”

Before I blinked, I was between them, shoving at him with the force of a freight train. “Back the fuck up, man,” I said as I sent him slamming against the next wall.

“What the hell, Justin?” he asked, catching his balance.

“Think you’re bothering her, Brad.” I raised my chin at him.

My arm jerked backward, tiny delicate fingers painted black yanking me to the side. “Pop the brakes there, hero. Brad’s a friend.”

I tilted my head, my lips opening to speak but shutting from lack of words. It could be because she called me hero, that she’d said the guy she had just shoved was her friend, or it could be the fact that she had the most gorgeous green eyes I’d ever seen in my life. They were sharp, full, and the look she gave me? It was a no bull-shit glare that was both sexy and adorable at the same time. She had to arch her neck to hold my gaze, she couldn’t have been more than five-foot-four, but something about her—maybe the hair or the tight ripped leggings she wore that looked like shredded newspaper—screamed she wasn’t a girl to take shit lying down.

“You sure about that?” I asked when I remembered how to speak.

“Yeah, pretty sure.” She glanced at Brad over my shoulder. “I’ll stop by later. I want to see pictures of the girls.”

“You got it, Charlie.” Brad shook his head at me and walked toward the gym.

“Now, you,” she said, pointing that perfectly black-polished finger at me. “Where do you get off?”

“Not much of that these days,” I said, glancing around the facility. Figured a good, dirty quip would send her in the opposite direction, which is exactly where she needed to go because my senses were aching with want—something that hadn’t happened since Blake.

She laughed, her eyes zeroing in on my dick before trailing back up to me. “Maybe you’re doing it wrong?”

My mouth popped into the shape of an O. Who the hell was this chick?

I slipped my hands into my pockets and leaned against the wall. “You just check in?” I asked instead of telling her to fuck off. This girl was setting off every piece of hope I had left in my soul—right there next to desire—and I couldn’t take it. I wouldn’t. I wasn’t good for anyone, ever.

“Something like that.” She tucked her midnight-blue hair behind her ears, exposing two scripted tattoos on the soft flesh of her wrists.

I licked my lips. “Bulimia?”

She arched a dark eyebrow at me. “What makes you think that?”

I shrugged. “Your skin is flawless, so not meth. Your eyes are clear, and you’re not twitching, so not coke. You’ve got wicked curves, so not anorexia.”

She laughed again, the sound vibrating in my core. Damn. Everything I said that she should take offense to, she found amusing.

Taking a step closer to me, she tilted her head back, locking onto my gaze as if she could read me like an opened book. She trailed her fingers over my jaw, turning my head back and forth, before tracing the lines of my chest, and lower over my hips, right over my pockets. She stepped back, shaking her head. “Liquor.”

“What? How?” My blood still hummed from her light and innocent touch, making the whole speech thing tough.

She bit her bottom lip which was full and pink.

“I’m psychic,” she said. “Not bulimic.”

“Shit. Sorry.” I shifted on my feet, crossing my arms over my chest. “What are you here for?”

“Why should I tell you?” Her tone was light, teasing.

“Only fair. You know mine.”

“Ah, but I know everything. And it’s way more fun watching you guess.”

I chuckled, the sensation so rare I almost forgot what it felt like. That realization sent up more red flags. If I wasn’t careful I’d end up liking this girl, and that would only lead to her destroyed and me having further evidence of what a monster I was.

“I don’t like games,” I said, pushing off the wall and walking past her.

“Who doesn’t like games?” She asked, immediately blocking my path, stopping my momentum.

The question triggered a memory—one of Blake asking how I couldn’t have fun at a concert. There were so many instances, so many questions or tears or fights with Blake I didn’t realize were as bad as they were…not until that night. The night I showed up in one of my most drunken stupors, ready to force her to love me again, by forcing myself on her. Since then, it was like I’d woken up from a nightmare, only to realize every single scene had been penned by my own hand.

I’m sure the doc would have his way with that piece of information, and have a diagnosis and how to work toward fixing it, but I wasn’t ever giving that one up. He could beat the hell out of me every day for the next two months. I’d never tell.

“So you’re not used to being pushed. Good to know,” she said, her tiny frame still holding me hostage in the hallway. “And from the look of those bruises, any real way to get words out of you is to beat you.”

I slitted my eyes at her, now she was hitting the mark too close for comfort. Not that I was comfortable. Part of me wanted to bolt. The other part wanted to do anything to keep this chick talking. Something about her, maybe her no bullshit attitude, or the fact that she wasn’t terrified of me like she should be, drew me to her.

“Should I keep going?” she asked, not at all phased by my silence.

“By all means,” I said, jaw clenched to keep from smiling at her.

She stared at me again like she had moments before as if she were reaching into my soul and plucking out all the intimate details. I froze, her intense gaze shredding me of my defenses with the sincerity in her eyes.

“You’re in pain.”

I scoffed. “Wrong.”

She stepped so close I could smell the strawberry gloss on her lips. It made my mouth water, and my heart pounded against my chest as she continued to appraise me.

“And you use the liquor to push it down. Bury it. But it never really leaves you. In fact, you’ve become dependent on it. You need it to torture yourself, because if you lost it, let go of whatever is eating you, you wouldn’t know who you were anymore.”

I swallowed hard, my arms falling from my chest to hang loosely at my sides. Had I been hit over the head? I glanced around, checking to see if there was a camera crew somewhere ready to jump out and scream that I’d gotten owned, or some shit like that. There was no way she could be that perceptive in the all of five minutes I’d known her.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” She stepped away from me, and I instantly missed her scent.

Shut it down, man.

“Maybe. Maybe not. You don’t share. I don’t share.” I challenged her.

She pursed those full lips, drawing my attention to them, and I couldn’t stop the thoughts that gave me a blissful reprieve from my normal rotation—I wanted to see if she tasted like strawberries, to see if she would be as insightful underneath me.

Blake’s cries echoed through my mind, and I sucked in a sharp breath, clenching my eyes shut. Fuck, the sound was always there. Ready to remind me of what I’d done. What I tried every night since to undo.

Warm, silky fingers tugged my hands down from where I’d raked them over my hair.

“E,” she said when I’d finally looked at her.

“What?” I pulled my hands out of her grasp, not at all noticing the heat that pulsed in my blood from her touch. Was she flirting with me? Touching me like we were familiar with each other as opposed to the strangers we were?

“Ecstasy?” She said it like a question. Like she was asking if I had any on me. I instinctively touched the pocket in which my baggie was tucked. There were two hits of E left, but I didn’t offer them to her. I didn’t push for the sale I knew Devlin would want me to. The thought of this girl abusing the little white pills that ate holes through the brain had my stomach plummeting. Shit, how could I care about someone I’d just met?

“That’s my piece of darkness,” she continued when I hadn’t said anything.

I nodded, realization clicking through my brain. “How long?”

She turned her green eyes upward like she was mentally counting. “Started when I was sixteen.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah, I’m that girl.”

I smiled despite trying not to. “The kind who went to raves? Danced to trance music?”

She chuckled. “Glow sticks and all, bitch.” She threw her hands up, twisting them in a swirling motion and swaying her hips at the same time. The move should’ve looked ridiculous in the bright fluorescent light of the hallway, but it didn’t—it was sexy as hell—as was her laughing at herself as she shook her head.

“How long are you here for?” I asked, suddenly aware I wanted it to be for months, long enough for me to stay as close to her as possible.

Something crossed over her eyes, something playful. “As long as it takes.”

“You sound committed.”

“Oh, you have no idea.” A piece of her hair fell in front of her face, and I had to resist the urge to tuck it back behind her ear.

What the fuck was wrong with me? What was it about her that had me flicking off every asshole switch I’d had firmly in place since that night with Blake? Since before her, if I was being honest, but fuck, I hadn’t realized until it was too late. I would never do that again. It didn’t mean I knew how to fix myself, fuck no, but I wouldn’t ever let another person get burned from the fire I always started wherever I went.

So why wasn’t I pushing her away? Why wasn’t I doing every dick thing I could to keep her safe?

The silence was full and heavy and suddenly the weight of emotions—wanting her, wanting to know her, caring about her addiction and wanting her to overcome it—became too much. I’d known her for a blink of time. This was ridiculous. I opened my mouth to offer up an excuse to leave, but she stopped me by craning her neck around my shoulder, peering down the hallway behind me.

“Justin?” She asked.

“Yeah?” I swear the girl had me hanging by the tip of her tongue. I would do whatever she asked. I knew that, without knowing what she wanted.

“Two things you need to know,” she said. “One, full disclosure? I hate liars more than I hate anything else in this world. I’d rather you be straight with me and tell me you killed kittens for funsies than lie about it and I find out later, understand?” She tilted her head, and I shook mine.

“Okay?” I said, but it sounded like a question.

She smiled. “Good. No lies. Ever. Or this can never work.”

I stood there gaping at her, having no clue what to say.

“And two,” she said and tapped the pocket of my jeans—the same pocket I had a baggie of pills nestled in. “They’re doing a surprise room check today. You might want to run.”

My eyes widened as her words sunk in. Fuck. Devlin’s most recent delivery was hidden in several different places in my room, and not all of them were brilliant spots. If I was caught, it’d be straight back to prison, and right back into Devlin’s control.

Fuck that. “How---“

“Don’t ask,” she cut me off. “Just hurry.” Her voice was barely above a whisper now.

“Thank you,” I said and took off in the opposite direction.

“I’ll see you soon!” She hollered from the end of the hallway, just as I’d made it to my door. Orderlies were just rounding the corner, hitting the room three doors down from mine.

I bolted past Conner who casually leaned outside his room next to mine, and I quickly rearranged some things, cursing myself for being so lazy with the pills Devlin wanted me to push in the first place. After a quick scan of the room, I decided the least obvious hiding place was inside the wrought-iron bed frame holding up my mattress. The poles connected to the decorative ornaments at the head were hollow inside. It wasn’t exactly easy to get the tops off, but it would do.

I hadn’t realized sporadic room searches would be a thing—not like it had been at the prison where Devlin paid off the guards, so they skipped our room or simply pretended to hunt. Now that it was so close, and the possibility of going back to prison only one clever orderly away, I felt like an idiot for ever agreeing to this.

Sure, I needed the cash but the stakes were so high. Not to mention Devlin was a pain in the ass with his threats. Problem was, I knew he could make good on them even behind bars, and if I went back there? Fuck, it’d be hell.

After the orderlies had deemed my room clean, I stepped back into the hallways where Conner hung out with an unlit cigarette between his fingers, his eyes locked onto Charlie who still stood where I’d left her. He cracked a smirk, nodding at me.

“See you’ve finally met your sponsor,” he said, bringing his gaze to me.

My head snapped back to her, and it was like a sledgehammer hit me in my chest. “What?”

“Charlie? She’s awesome. I’ve seen her work magic on people in way worse shape than you.”

I closed my mouth, which had come unhinged with the feeling of loss that trembled through my core. She was never a possibility anyway.

But damn I’d wanted her to be.

As my sponsor, she was absolutely off limits. Not only would she be attempting to tear information from me at every turn, she was the one I was supposed to go to for help when I felt myself slipping. Romantic relationships were completely against the rules because it complicated the process of recovery.

It’s a good thing you weren’t looking to be with anyone anyway.

I repeated this to myself three times, but it still didn’t do a damn thing about the vacuum like feeling sucking the glimmer of light that had sparked in my chest when she’d spoken.

“Wait,” I said, something donning on me. “She said her darkness was E.”

Conner shrugged. “Yeah, so? Not all of us have one vice, bro. If I remember right, her drink was Gin.”

I shook my head. “Damn.”

“Oh, no, man. You didn’t realize who she was?”

“Nope.”

“Sorry, bro.”

“For what?”

“Crushing your dreams. I get it. She’s wicked hot. You just don’t want to tangle the beast that is sponsor and the beast that is girlfriend.

I scoffed. “Come on. Do I look like boyfriend material?” I joked to hide my panic on the inside. I had been once before I’d become what I was. Before I grew to resent Blake and all the possibilities in life she had that I didn’t, knowing full well I’d never be good enough for her. So I stopped trying. I know it wasn’t her fault, but I also knew I hated myself more when she’d been in my life.

Conner pulled his pack of smokes out and nodded toward the door that would lead to our designated smoking spot. “Yeah?”

I shook my head, still reeling from nearly getting caught holding.

“Look at you changing.” He smirked and headed outside while I turned back into my room sinking onto my bed, the springs creaking under my weight. That was too close. If Charlie hadn’t---

The thought stopped me dead in my tracks.

Charlie warned me about the search like she knew I was holding. Had she felt the pills in my pocket?

I tore my fingers through my hair. My sponsor—a former drug addict and alcoholic, the one person I was supposed to turn myself over to completely and let her guide me to sobriety—knew I was pushing drugs in rehab. Oh, Conner was right, everything was changing.

Fuck. My. Life.

4

Fearless moral inventory of myself

“This all you got?” The guy—God, what was his name again? I tried to remember but came up blank. Huh, so much for sobriety making you sharper. The only thing I could remember about him was that he made money playing guitar for some emo band I would never listen to even if someone paid me…then again, Blake would probably love them.

I shook off the familiar jolt of pain every time I thought about her outside the context of what I’d done to her. When I only thought about her as the person she was, the friends we used to be—instead of the possession I’d treated her like toward the end—it was like looking at two different people, the man I’d wanted to be, and the one I had been. And now? Well, now I hoped I was reinventing myself, but the jury was literally still out on that one.

“For now,” I finally answered him.

He sank back into his oversized leather armchair, his hands smacking the armrests like a toddler at the beginning of a tantrum. “I’ve got plenty of cash.”

“That’s nice for you.” I pocketed the wad of twenties he’d given for a few pills of valium. The dude was lush in the finance department, his band doing everything—including throwing money at him—to keep his situation quiet. That’s why they’d chosen a rehab center in the middle of Oklahoma City as opposed to a fancier one in L.A., or so he’d told me fourteen times already. Guess druggie guitarists for a new band climbing the charts was out this year.

“Fuck, man. What will it take? You gave me three. I said I wanted twelve.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “Exactly. And how do you think it would look if the orderlies found you in here, sprawled out on your bed, dead from oding on the drugs that you’re here to get over?”

He huffed, rolling a guitar pick back and forth between his fingers. “Thanks for the faith.”

I shrugged. “I’m not in the business of killing off my customers. Three will be plenty until Thursday. Unless, of course, overdosing is your goal.”

“Of course, it isn’t. Shit, I just don’t want to see you that much.”

I laughed. “You and me both, man.” I loved that we could be honest about our true dislike of each other but still do good business. “Same time in three days?”

He jerked his head in what I took to be a nod, and I walked toward the door, my hand pausing on the knob. “I don’t have to come back, you know?”

He cut his black eyes to me.

“Not being a dick,” I said quickly. “I meant if the program is working for you, or you plan to make it work for you, just say the word and I’ll disappear.”

“You would?” He put the pick between his teeth.

“Yes.” I wouldn’t have said that during week one. I would’ve kept pushing the hard sell until I’d convinced him he needed me to deliver pills every week. Now, five weeks in, sober for thirty-four days, I could honestly say I didn’t wish addiction on anyone. Not that I was free from it. Hell no, I craved vodka like I craved water. The need was constantly there, tapping on my shoulder, whispering how good we used to have it.

“I’ll see you on Thursday,” he said, dismissing me.

I nodded and shut the door quietly behind me.

“Making friends, I see.” Charlie’s voice boomed in the quiet hallway, and I jumped.

“Fuck, make a noise. You’re like a cat.” Yes, that was accurate—a very sexy cat in today’s choice of leggings which looked like the galaxy, the sections of deep blues matching her hair.

“Meow,” she said, curling her fingers into claws. She flashed that smile of hers, the one I only ever saw her give me, and I again wondered if she felt the connection I did…or if I was delusional and just wishing for something more when there was nothing but professional concern.

I chuckled and shook my head—laughing more at myself than her adorable cat impersonation. I walked down the hallway, and she fell into step beside me.

Charlie had shown up at random times, every day since I found out she was my sponsor. She’d tried several times, unsuccessfully, to get me to open up about the past that led me here, but she was much more laid back than I’d ever expected. Especially after the knowledge of my drug sales. She never asked about it again, so I assumed we were operating under a need-to-know relationship.

“I have plans for today,” she said, the long black shirt she wore fanning behind her as we moved down the hallway.

“Of course, you do.” She always did.

She could never sit still. I’d learned that—among other dark pieces of her past that made mine look like a fluffy PG-13 film—in the past couple weeks. Not only had she overcome some serious fucked up shit—like being abused by a family member she chose not to identify—she was using her sobriety to help others in positions similar to her past.

Everything I hid from her, kept from her intentionally, was only prolonging her time with me, and I knew it was selfish, but I liked her attention. I honestly didn’t want her helping anyone else at the moment, and I analyzed every single emotion I had around her until I was exhausted. I couldn’t tell if my want of her time to myself meant I hadn’t changed—like I desperately hoped I was working toward—or if it meant I was still the same monster I’d been when I’d tied Blake to me without giving a second thought about her choices.

“Justin,” she said, stopping me by putting her hands on my coiled forearms. She slowly unclenched my fingers from the fists they were in and I breathed out slowly, her touch cooling the racing thoughts in my mind. “You’re doing that thing where you grind your teeth and get all contemplative.”

“Well, I’m a thoughtful man.” I tried to joke, but it didn’t hit the beat I wanted. She didn’t crack the grin I’d come to hope for every time she came into the room.

“Sharing is caring,” she said, still holding my hands.

I tugged out of her grasp, shaking my fingers out like she’d burned me. “What’s on the checklist today, Charlie?”

She glared at me, but one swipe of that pretty pink tongue over her even pinker bottom lip and the frustration was gone. For her, anyway. I was still being the over-analytical guy, wondering if I was a demon for wanting something for myself after years of not knowing who or what I was. I still didn’t have a clear image of the man I’d become since entering the clinic but after daily sessions in the ring with Thomas, I knew I was closer to figuring it out than I ever had been before. Not that I’d ever tell him that. Wouldn’t want to give the neighborly doctor a big head.

“You’ll see,” she said, turning on her heels and swishing those perfect hips down the hallway. I followed, reminding myself not to drool but my mouth watered regardless.

Since Blake, there had been Lindsay—the tool’s crazy ex-girlfriend and the closest, easiest piece of ass around at the moment I needed it—and then there had been no one. I hadn’t even looked at a girl in that air after what had happened that night at Blake’s house…I couldn’t and I never thought there would be another instance where I’d ever want someone as badly as I did now…but I couldn’t stop it. No matter how much I tried to cut Charlie out of my chest, she kept cropping up there and making my heart beat in new ways. Each thump was soothing, not rage induced, pleasant, not painful, and the hope that grew there only magnified with each day we spent together.

She had this uncanny ability to make me feel…normal. To her, I wasn’t a guy who’d spent years hating himself and taking it out on the only person who every had really loved him. I was merely a man trying to overcome an addiction. I wished it was that simple—even though it was far from that.

I tried to shove the thoughts down into the deep dark hole where I kept every hope buried, and followed her into a room I’d avoided since I checked in.

“No, please not this,” I said, stopping in the opened doorway.

Charlie fastened me with a look I’d quickly realized meant she would get her way—it was a half-pout half-smirk with eyes that sparked with the dare to deny her. My heart thudded against my chest and need ached in my core.

“What’s the matter?” She asked innocently.

I cocked an eyebrow at her. “This is worse than the library you took me to last week.” I glanced over her shoulder, my eyes grazing over the art room. “Pottery day? Seriously?”

“Why not?”

I stepped closer to her, inhaling her delicious strawberry scent. “Not really my thing.”

She spread her slim fingers—painted green today—in front of her face, ticking off facts. “Books aren’t your thing, punk rock isn’t your thing, baking isn’t your thing, and what was it?” She tilted her head, those green eyes exploring a mind I’d love to get a glimpse of. “Oh yes, spa day wasn’t your thing either.” She shoved the four fingers in my face before dropping her hand. “I’m beginning to think you don’t like anything, Justin.”

The words kicked me straight in the balls. Blake had said similar things to me in the past, but I wasn’t that man anymore. I knew it in my heart, in my soul. I was still a fucked sideways asshole with a habit I had to kick—but the man I’d been? The one who had broken Blake over and over again? I’d killed him that night—the night I woke the fuck up. I had drowned him. In vodka.

“Ready to give up on me?” I asked, forcing myself to stay present by focusing on Charlie’s green eyes which had flecks of gold in them when she turned her head the right way.

“Never. We’re just getting started.” She smiled at me, the look genuine and absolutely non-judging. It was refreshing, and I admired her determination. I hated to disappoint her.

Wow. I actually didn’t want her to think less of me. But how could I impress her when I barely knew how to impress myself?

“So,” she said, pointing over her shoulder. “Pottery.”

I smirked. “You want to reenact the scene from Ghost?” Blake had once made me watch the chick-flick. Swayze was decent but making out while making a pot? Seriously?

“The part where he dies?” She pursed her lips, and I hissed in mock pain.

“Ouch. Good to know what you’re working toward.” I shook my head.

A light clicked on behind her eyes, and she flashed me a wild grin. “Would it help?”

“What?” I asked, completely oblivious to the track she’d jumped on. “If you killed me?” She often spoke too fast or jumped subjects so quickly I had whiplash, but it was unique to her and something I had started to look forward to, chaotic as it was.

She licked her lips. “No. If I let you spoon me from behind, run your clay-wet fingers over mine…would you talk to me? Like you do with Thomas and the boxing?”

I snorted out a laugh, but the visual burned hot and pulsing in my mind. God, I’d love to know what she felt like, how she would move underneath my touch.

That couldn’t happen.

“No.” I shut that door as quickly as possible.

She sank on her heels, her shoulders dropping slightly. “It was worth a shot.”

“You were bluffing,” I said as I followed her inside.

“Was I?” She took a seat at an empty potter’s wheel, and I sank onto the one right next to her.

I stared at her, taking in every inch of her face, every smooth line, every hint of gold in her green eyes. Shit, I didn’t have a clue.

She burst out laughing then, reaching over to my wheel and flipping the switch. “Don’t think. Just let your hands do the work.” She motioned toward her own where one hand wrapped around a hunk of clay and the other scooped up water from a bucket between us.

I swallowed hard and tried to think about anything other than her skin slick and wet, anything besides the visual of her delicate hands manipulating the clay before her with slow sensuous movements. It was useless. I saw her. And she saw me—for what I was or who I wanted to be or a combination of both, I didn’t know.

She worked silently over the clay, her movements fluid and strong and soft at the same time and all the blood rushed to my dick as a blast of want slammed through me. Charlie was more potent than any drink, any pill I could ever take. I wanted her more than the clink of ice in the glass and the crisp sound the bottle made when freshly cracked open. And she was the one person I shouldn’t want, not to mention I had no right to even think about being with anyone now. Not when I was still so raw, still so unsure of why I’d done the things I’d done.

“I said don’t think.” Her voice cut through my thoughts, and I shifted behind my machine despite knowing she had to have seen the raging hard on I sported. Fuck I might as well have been a teenager again. I set my hands to work on the clay, adjusting my grip and strength as it spun, going for water when I needed more movement.

I wondered what it would’ve been like if I’d met Charlie back then? Back before I’d dropped out. Before I’d been kicked out of the only home I’d ever known.

Blake’s brown eyes filled my mind, and I closed mine, keeping my hands on the clay. Shit, I wouldn’t ever take back meeting Blake…just perhaps, if we hadn’t started so young, fallen so hard so fast, maybe we wouldn’t have become toxic to each other. That’s what she’d called us…toxic…and I couldn’t fucking blame her. Not after waking up.

Fuck. We brought out the worst in each other by the end—only her at her worst was a thousand times better than me at mine. I sucked in a deep breath, mentally whispering for the millionth time, I’m sorry.

I let my mind wander then—eyes still closed as I pictured Charlie and how different things could’ve been if I’d been with her instead. She understood me so well because she had darkness in her soul, the same as me. She’d experienced worse and came out better for it on the other side. She gave me hope even when I knew I wasn’t allowed to have it. It hadn’t taken her years to peg me for who I was, only minutes. Her ability to cut right to the point and strip me of my defenses at the same time only made her more endearing to me, and for a moment, there in the art room of a fucking rehab clinic, I let myself pretend we had a future together.

Damn, I’d lose my guy card if Conner could hear my thoughts. It’s not that I didn’t think about what she would feel like underneath me because I’d given her silky skin quite a bit of thought. It’s just that every time my mind drifted that way, Blake’s cries would shut that shit down faster than a cold shower.

It haunted me, and I knew I deserved no less. If it was this bad for me, reliving the night every single time I laid down, and trying desperately to change the outcome, then I couldn’t even begin to imagine what it was for her. I didn’t like to think about it because if I did, then I only realized I was probably still hurting her, after all this time, despite that being the last thing I wanted in the world.

“Oh, Justin.” Charlie’s voice drew my attention, and I peeled my eyelids back. They were wet, as were my cheeks.

What the fuck?

I jerked my hands off the sculpted clay, swiping at my face with my forearms. Charlie stood over me and clicked off my machine, crouching to my eye level.

“Where did you go?” She whispered.

I shook my head, choking on the words.

She sighed and nodded, cutting her eyes to my machine. “That’s incredible.”

I followed her gaze, scrunching my eyebrows together. The lump of gray clay had transformed into a tall, funnel-shaped piece with jagged edges.

Not bad for my first time.

“It looks like a tornado,” she said.

And with that one word, a piece of glass shattered in my head, and I know longer saw something abstract I’d created with my own two hands with my eyes closed. No. I saw a mother fucking tornado.

What were the odds?

I bolted out of my seat and instantly smashed the thing, my fists packing into the clay without the satisfaction of feeling like flesh. I saw Charlie jump out of the corner of my eye, but I didn’t stop. I beat the thing until it resembled nothing but the slop of a mound it had been in the beginning.

My chest heaved as I withdrew my fists, bits of clay sticking to my knuckles. I ignored the other patients in the room, their eyes on my outburst. Charlie’s were the only ones I cared about, but I was too scared to look. Too afraid to see terror or embarrassment or judgment in them.

She moved quickly in my peripheral vision, and I couldn’t not look when I saw her scoop up her piece—which looked like a big ass sphere—and smash it against the floor. It didn’t shatter because it wasn’t dry but the sound it made—a squelching plop—and the pathetic, fizzled out disc it sunk into, made me laugh so hard my sides hurt.

Charlie joined in, and it didn’t matter that we looked like two insane people in a room full of recovering addicts—it only mattered that we were the same.

“That felt good,” she said, reeling in her fit of laughter.

I sucked in a sharp breath, wiping at the corner of my eyes with my forearms for an entirely new reason, thanks to Charlie.

She grinned at me and motioned her head toward the unisex bathroom in the back of the art room. “Come on.” She offered her clay covered hand, and I took it instantly.

I used to think surprises “weren’t my thing” until I met her. Charlie had continuously surprised me every day since she became my sponsor.

“Clean yourself up,” she ordered, opening the door for me. “I’ll bury the bodies and be right back.” She winked at me before shutting me inside the small bathroom.

I leaned over the sink, my eyes staying glued to the white marble from habit. As I turned the faucet to find warm water, I drew my courage and slowly looked up.

There was a smile on my face I didn’t recognize. A light in my eyes, underneath the evidence of tears, I’d never seen. I hadn’t deliberately looked in a mirror in so long—I was shocked to catch a glimpse of myself for longer than a moment.

I needed a fucking hair cut.

I chuckled to myself, the sensation of release so strong it made me dizzy, reminding of that first drink after a long absence.

She knocked on the door, and I let her inside.

“You practicing your jokes in here?” Charlie asked, shutting the door behind her.

“No,” I said, and my voice cracked. The room was so small, her frame filling it despite being tiny. There were hardly any places in the clinic—besides the grounds—that were as private as this.

“Scooch,” she said, bumping her hip against mine as she nestled next to me at the sink. She ran her hands under the water, and the clay from her fingers turned the sink gray. “You haven’t even started! Here.” She grabbed my hands, working her fingers through mine, her skin warm and smooth underneath the flow of water and clay and it resonated deep in my core.

God, it’d been too long since I’d felt like this. Been so consumed like this.

I was helpless against her, silent as she lathered our hands with soap, and sliding the bubbles up higher where the clay had gotten on my arms.

“I know you think this may not be your thing,” she said, massaging her thumbs into the heel of my palms. “but you’re damn good at it.”

I licked my lips, watching her, feeling her touch, reveling in both. My silence must have given her pause because she stopped, her eyes slowly meeting mine.

“Is this okay?” she asked, slightly breathless. “I know some people don’t like being touched, but I tend to forget to ask.”

She pulled away from me.

“Yes,” I said quickly. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”

Retaking my hands, she continued to lather and rinse until there was no gray left, only clear, warm water. She looked up at me as she grabbed a wad of paper towels next to her and handed them to me. I dried off, my skin already craving her touch.

A fleck of gray sat just beneath her eye and I reached up to smooth over it with my thumb before thinking. She didn’t flinch away from my touch. She did the opposite. She sighed and stepped closer to me. Her green eyes were open, honest, and in them I saw a flicker of the want I felt rushing through my blood.

There was nothing I wanted more in that instant than to claim her mouth and see what she tasted like.

And knowing that, feeling the slam of need surging through me, I backed away as quickly and as far as the small space would allow.

“Justin,” she whispered my name, not giving me the space but instead closing the distance until her chest pressed lightly against mine. “Don’t pull away from me. Not here.”

I looked down at her but kept my arms locked at my side when all they wanted was to wrap around her hips and heft her up to my level. I wanted her, wanted what it looked like she begged of me but I would not breach the professional line between us.

“Talk to me,” she said, remaining still.

“I can’t.”

“You can. You know you can.”

“No, Charlie, I can’t. You don’t get it. I’m not good. There is nothing about my past, the reasons why I’m here, that is clean.”

“And you think what I’ve shared with you is a fucking bubble bath?” She arched a brow at me, her eyes lit and on fire.

“No, of course not---“

“Then snap out of it!” She placed her hand on my chest. “I can feel this, Justin. I can see the torture in your eyes every single day, and it’s killing me because I know if you’d just open up a crack I could help you.”

My heart pounded underneath her hand, so hard I’m sure she could feel it. I nearly spilled my entire guts on the floor right there, ready for her to give me my final judgment but I held back.

“You sound like Thomas,” I said. “You both are so sure I’m fixable.”

“You are.”

“No. I’m beyond broken.”

“Well, so am I. So are more than half the people in this building. But that is the beauty of broken things. They can be reworked, adjusted to build something even more beautiful than the original.”

I rolled my eyes. “I never was and never will be beautiful.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” She raised her hand, stroking the stubble on my jaw. “You are beautiful. I see you. I see every dark, aching piece of you, and I know it sounds insane, but I get it.”

“You don’t know a thing about me.”

“Please,” she huffed. “I know you, Justin. I know you’re drinking to kill the pain of some wrong you’ve done because you’ve done nothing but berate and blame yourself since I met you. I know you push people away because you’re afraid you’re doomed to repeat the mistakes of your past. I know that you push drugs but not enough for the buyer to inflict any real harm to themselves—other than delay their rehabilitation—and I know that I should’ve turned you in the second I knew for sure.”

It’s as if the girl had sliced me open on day one and peeled apart my layers, exposing all my flaws. She just didn’t know all the details of my secrets. “Why didn’t you?”

“Because I see you. There is more than what you project. So much more.”

“You don’t know that.” I banged the back of my head lightly against the wall, tearing my eyes away from her. She was too close—not only in unraveling me but in proximity. It would only take one move of my hand, and I could crush her against me.

“I do. And you will too, in time. You just have to give me a chance.” She licked her lips. “Can you do that for me? Please,” she whispered the last word, her mouth inching closer to mine.

My dick throbbed with her so close, with her strawberry scent in my air, her soft body touching mine, but I didn’t move. Couldn’t move.

“Tell me I’m not just some ex-junkie with a crush on her Sponsee. Tell me I’m not crazy. That you feel this too.” She held her position, so close to my lips I could feel her breath on my skin.

“I feel it,” I said, wanting to say more but the words died on my tongue. This was a tease from God, a trick placing a piece of perfection like Charlie in front of me, only to have her be off limits. Clearly, she didn’t care about the rules—not only losing the opportunity to be a sponsor in the future but quite possibly losing access to this clinic, which acted as a lifeline to her—but that was right now…what would she do later? After she learned who I really was? After I inevitably hurt her? Because there was no other way this would end. I hurt people. It’s what I did.

“Prove it,” she said. “Show me something real. Something so I know you’re willing to try. That you want to get better. Because that’s the key, Justin. You have to want it, or I can’t even begin to help you.”

She had already helped me in more ways than she knew. She’d awoken a piece of my heart that I thought was long dead—the ability to care hadn’t happened since Blake, about myself, about anyone—but I did care about her. What she thought and how she looked at me. And it wasn’t that I wanted to change for her because I felt like I had already set those goals before she came around. I wanted to become who I was around her. I wanted to be the guy I felt like in her presence. The one who cracked jokes with her like rapid fire, the one who pushed her when she pushed back. The one who wasn’t a raging drunk. The one who was just simply…Justin. Charlie’s version of Justin. He was okay to be around. He was almost pleasant.

I didn’t have a clue how to show her badly I wanted to be him.

“How do I dig out of a hole so deep and so dark I can’t tell which is the bottom and which is the top?” I asked, pushing some of her hair away from her face.

“Easy,” she said, leaning into my palm. “You ask me for a shovel.”

I closed my eyes and exhaled. This girl. She always had the right words. I took my hand away from her cheek and slipped it into my pocket. Pulling out the baggie of a half-dozen pills, I showed them to her. She tilted her head, her eyes slits as she saw one small white pill in particular. I quickly tipped the bag upside down over the toilet and flushed away what would have been over four grand.

Her eyes widened, the specks of gold catching in the light that flickered above us. She smiled. “It’s real then?”

“Yeah,” I huffed. “As crazy as it sounds, it is. I want to get better, Charlie. I just don’t have a fucking clue how.”

Reaching up on her tiptoes, she gripped my face between her hands. “I’m going to show you.”

I moved my head slightly, her lips only a breath away from mine. The closeness of her ignited my core and my mouth watered, craving more.

Her sigh hit my skin as she urged me closer.

Knock! Knock! Two loud bangs jolted us out of our embrace.

“You about done in there? I have to take a piss!” a man shouted from the other side of the closed door.

“Coming!” Charlie said and smoothed her hands over her hair, winking at me.

She went out first, me following right behind her. The guy gave us a sideways glance but quickly shrugged. I stopped him, my hand darting out to block his path to the bathroom.

“You know,” I said, “there are hundreds of bathrooms on the massive property. Including one right outside in the hallway.”

The guy swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he nodded quickly. “Didn’t realize you had company.” He raised his hands, and I smacked his shoulder.

“No worries,” I said, walking to where Charlie waited for me in the entryway.

Funny. I actually meant that. Two years ago the attitude the guy gave would’ve merited a fight from me. Now it barely rose my blood pressure. Though, it could be the fact that he saved me from making a huge mistake because I’d been seconds away from claiming Charlie’s mouth. And while I had that fantasy on repeat, there were too many haunting memories reminding me every second of why I shouldn’t cross that line—not to mention the professional forbiddance of the two of us being “romantic.” I would destroy her. Professionally or personally or both. Somehow. Someway. It was in my blood to hurt whatever I cared most about, and right now, that was Charlie.

The knowledge of this didn’t stop me from taking her outstretched hand when I reached her. She intertwined our fingers as we walked down the hallway, her guiding me straight back to my room.

“Never had a girl drop me off before,” I joked.

“I like being your first,” she said, never missing a beat.

Fuck, she was my first. The first one to strike a spark after I’d woken the fuck up that awful night I’d hurt Blake, hurt her dog. Shit, it crept in at the worst possible times.

“Tomorrow?” She asked, squeezing my hand.

“You have something planned?” I resisted the urge to bring her hand to my lips.

“You know I do.”

“More pottery?” I laughed, thinking of the tornado, of the smashed pieces of clay that I’d wanted to be that version of my past.

“No,” she shook her head, her hair tussling back and forth. “You’ll see. And I’ll make you a bet.”

“Gambling is absolutely my thing.”

“Figures.”

“What? I’m not addicted to it.”

She laughed. “Well, I’d wager almost anything against this.”

“What’s that?”

“Tomorrow, you’re going to talk to me. Really talk to me.”

My chest tightened like she was making some kind of prophetic reading. “You think so?”

“I know so.”

“How?”

“It’s step five.”

I drew my eyebrows together, retracing the steps in my head. Step five blared red in my mind. Confession.

“How do you know I’m on that one?”

“Have you not seen how much we’re alike? How I can read you like a book? Come on, Justin. I’ve lived this. I was where you’re standing, and I made it out alive. You can too.”

“Jury is still out on that one,” I said. “What are you wagering?”

“What do you want.”

I cocked an eyebrow at her, and she smacked my chest.

“You’d bet me like I was a chip in a poker game?” She teased but her words stung every inch of my skin.

I checked the hallway to make sure we were alone before I cupped her cheek in my hand. I shook my head, trying to convey my sincerity, praying she would see the truth in my eyes. “I would never bet with something that precious.”

She sucked in a sharp breath, all joking leaving her eyes. “Good answer.”

“It’s not a line, I swear.”

“I know.”

“Because you’re psychic.” I tried to bring us back to humorville because we were teetering too close to an edge I didn’t know I could go over and come back from whole.

“Right. So let’s stick to something safer. Lunch?”

“Loser buys lunch,” I said, grabbing her hand and shaking it. “Deal.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said and tried to pull away.

I held onto her hand, drawing her closer. “You’re going to lose.”

She sighed. “It’s so sad that you believe that.”

Something dark flashed behind her eyes and in the look, I saw a piece of myself. It scared the hell out of me because I knew if there was anyone in the world who could get me to talk…it was Charlie.

Fuck, I’d already lost.

And I hadn’t even opened my mouth yet.

5

Confession

“You want to come with us?” I asked Conner, who sat on the bench of the wooden deck that connected to the massive lake on the grounds.

“Nah, man,” he said, gazing out at the water. He motioned toward it with his lit cigarette. “That’s more my brother’s thing. I prefer to stay on land. Keeps me grounded.”

I nodded, glancing over at Charlie where she walked toward us with a couple of life vests.

“Seriously?” I asked her when she’d made it to us.

“Facility policy.” She shrugged, handing me a damp vest that smelled like mud and lake water. “They won’t let us take the jet skis out unless we wear these.”

“Ugh.” I slipped one arm after the other inside the wet vest.

Charlie grinned and snapped the two stained latches together. “Act like you aren’t pumped this is what I chose for today.”

I tried not to smile down at her, but it was useless. “It’s better than knitting.”

“My life’s ambition. To be better than knitting.” She shook her head and glanced at Conner. “How are you doing?”

He blew smoke out of his mouth before answering, his knee bouncing up and down repeatedly without him really noticing. “All right. Think it’s going to stick this time, Charlie.”

She gripped his shoulder and he patted her hand before standing up. “That’s real good, Conner. You heard from Connell lately?”

Something dark flashed across his eyes. “Not for a few months.”

“He’ll come around. He’s more stubborn than you are.”

“Truth.” He crushed his cigarette on the metal ashtray next to the table. “All right, you two. Have a good time.” He focused his eyes on me, his hands over the center of his chest. “Make sure to share all your feelings, Justin.” He smirked as I flipped him off.

“You ready?” I asked Charlie after she’d gone quiet, watching Conner’s back as he walked away with his hands shoved in his pockets.

She blinked a few times before looking at me. “He’s not doing good.”

“What?” I puckered my eyebrows. “Sure he is. He just said he was.”

“Can you really not see it? His struggle?”

I thought about his twitching movements in group recently, his need to speak faster than usual, and his general irritability at any given time of the day. “I thought that was just part of the process?”

“You should talk to him.”

“About what?”

“I don’t know. Whatever he needs. There is something bothering him. He may tell you. You two are close.”

“He’s my neighbor and has an endless supply of smokes.”

“He’s more than that, and you know it.” She situated the vest around her small frame, the massive thing nearly swallowing her.

“What are you suggesting?”

“That he’s the first real friend you’ve had in a very long time.” She never hesitated, never stopped to formulate a response. She simply spouted out whatever was there and usually, I’d come to find, she was right.

My old friends from when Blake and I were together, Mark and Andy, had bolted the second I started drinking more than playing video games. They never bothered to check on me either. Looking back, I couldn’t really understand the draw they’d held. We didn’t have much in common other than Call of Duty, which lost its luster the second I’d had my awakening. How I had ever spent days absorbed in the game was beyond me. Just another way to disconnect from myself, I guess.

Doc would be proud, sorting shit out all on my own.

“I’ll talk to him tonight,” I finally said.

“Thank you.” She motioned her head toward the jet skis floating on the other side of the dock. “You ever done this before?” She shook a set of keys attached to a foam bobber at me.

I snatched them from her outstretched hand. “I used to all the time,” I said, visions of summers before I’d been kicked out of my aunt’s house flashing in my head. My uncle had a lake house an hour outside of town, and we’d spend weeks at a time there. Blake had been with me twice.

“Oh, God, do you hate it?” She asked, stepping toward me and placing her hand on my tight forearm.

“No, why?”

“You looked—never mind. Let’s roll!” She shot off toward the skis and threw a perfectly bare leg over the center. Heat pulsed in my blood at the sight of her skin. I was so used to seeing her fully covered in a variety tight leggings—not that I was complaining—but now that she was bare, I couldn’t help but notice thin white scars that lined her upper thighs.

Following her, I turned the key in my ski and revved the engine. She took off a few seconds before me, a mess of lake water spraying me from behind. I relished the feel of the machine beneath me, the roar of the water from the speed, the height of the jump when I caught a break from the waves she created in front of me.

I chased her, circled her, and rode by her side. She laughed, her hair flying in all different directions as she pushed her ski faster, harder. The challenge was there, and I met it speed for speed, jump for jump, loving every second of it.

On the water, with no sound but the splash and groan of the engine, or her laugh, I didn’t think about the past or the future. Didn’t think about where I was or why. I simply was me. Who currently was just a guy, trying to impress a girl, by catching air and taking the machine to full capacity. Every smile, every gasp, every laugh, fueled me in a way nothing had in such a long time. I drank it in like I would have a bottle or two of vodka a few months ago. The craving was still there, the desire to return to the numb, disconnected feeling the drink offered me, but it wasn’t as powerful. I knew I’d never truly be free of the want but right now, in the moment with Charlie so near, I was okay. And I knew it was due to a combination of things—the doc, this place, being sober—but mostly it was her.

After an hour we returned the skis and vests, and sat on the dock overlooking the water, our chests heaving from the exhilaration of the ride.

“Yeah?” She asked, nudging me with her elbow.

“So much better than knitting,” I said, nudging her back.

She chuckled, tossing her blue hair out of her face. “I love anything with speed. Motorcycles, boats, jets. It’s a free rush. No consequences.”

“Not unless you eat the pavement or something.”

She rolled her eyes. “Well, if you want to be a pessimist about it. At least it’s legal.”

I huffed. “True,” I said, stretching out my legs and leaning back against the wooden railing with my elbows propped on it. The angle gave me a perfect view of her legs, and she sat so close to me I could easily reach out and touch the thin scars that were almost iridescent against her skin.

“Cutter,” she said, catching my gaze.

Heat flooded my face. “I wasn’t going to ask.”

“If I was ashamed of it I’d never wear shorts.” She shrugged. “It was my first affliction. First sign to my parents that I wasn’t the emotionally stable teenager they thought I was.”

And no fucking wonder. With the stories she’d told me about the family member taking advantage of her, I wouldn’t blame her for any action she took to numb the pain, erase the memories that suffocated her.

“What was yours?” She asked casually but had those green eyes pinned on mine.

I arched my head back, inhaling the scent of lake and dirt and pine. “I was sixteen. Just got into partying, wrong crowd. My guardians—my aunt and uncle—they kicked me out that year. Said I’d abused their generosity when they took me in after my mother abandoned me when I little…for a drug addiction, no less.” I chuckled darkly. “Go figure, right?”

“Assholes,” she snapped, and it made me laugh harder.

I tilted my head back and forth. “Maybe. Maybe I got what I deserved. She’s trying to make amends, though. Bought my ticket out of prison and into this place.”

“Okay, now I feel bad about the asshole thing.”

“Don’t. They were simply preemptive. I would’ve ruined their lives. It’s what I do.”

“Why do you say that?” she sighed.

I crossed my arms over my chest and shrugged.

“Justin,” she urged. Her eyes were full of acceptance and openness and no hint of judgment anywhere. If there was anyone I could ever spill my blood to and let it wash clean, it would be her.

“Do you ever look back on your life and find sections of nothing but…haze? Like someone came in and blurred the edges of your memories with an eraser?” I asked.

“Only every other memory.”

I nodded. “I can’t pinpoint the spot in time—between being kicked out and up to a year and a half ago—where I went wrong. And believe me, I’ve tried every night to find it. Like if I could latch on to the moment in time where I became something darker, something twisted, then I could somehow fix it. Internally, I could blot that part of my life out and start fresh.”

“What are you trying to find?” She asked, shifting her legs toward me.

I shrugged. “The second in time I became a monster.”

A crease formed between her eyes. “You’re not a”

“Yes, I am,” I cut her off.

My chest tightened, begging me to hold on to the past. To not let Charlie see me for who I really was. Problem was, I didn’t know how to not tell her. She’d shared so much of her life with me, given me pieces of her darkness with nothing but the promise of light at the end of recovery.

“I fell in love with Blake when I was sixteen. She was my world. Every. Single. Day. For eight years, I lived and breathed her. When we were kids, it was just first love. It was new and exciting, and she was just so good. And she…she was the one who never left me when everyone else did. Then, as we grew up, we grew apart. We were different, but I didn’t want to see it. Didn’t want to acknowledge just how drastically separate our futures were headed.” I pinched the bridge of my nose, the slick, oily guilt filling my insides like gasoline. “Somewhere along the way, I realized she’d leave. It was inevitable because she was going places. Chasing her dreams regardless if I wanted to keep standing still. And I hated her for it. Hated her for having a passion outside of me, outside of the life I saw for us—which was her at home with a few kids. I thought she’d get college out of her system, and we’d get married, and that would be the end of it…but I was kidding myself. I knew. I’d never be good enough for her, no matter how hard I tried, I would never be the man she needed. Someone who wanted to run as fast as she did, soar as high as she liked to, live as close to the edge as she did. And so I hated myself too. I always felt…inadequate before I even opened my mouth.” I rubbed my palms over my face, resting my elbows on my knees.

“Oh, Justin,” Charlie sighed, placing her hand on my back.

“I punished her for it,” I blurted out before I lost my nerve.

Images flashed behind my clenched eyes—Blake’s tears, her screams, all the times she’d told me sex had hurt and I couldn’t understand why. I’d always thought something was wrong with her…that was before I’d finally snapped out of it.

“I hurt her, over and over again, for something she hadn’t even done yet. I threatened her into staying with me, even though I knew her leaving was a certainty, and I didn’t realize how fucking toxic I was until…” Toxic. Blake’s own words filtered through my mind before my living nightmare played out behind my eyes. “All the things I’d done over the last few years of our relationship, the fights, and the traps, it wasn’t anything compared to what I did to her after she’d finally ended it.” I sucked in a sharp breath, acid rolling my stomach as if the dock bobbed up and down from a tidal wave. “I…forced myself on her. Not entirely, but I would’ve…I was so wasted that night I barely remember anything other than her scream, her fighting me off…” Hail’s yelp burst through my brain, and my skin tightened as it did every time the memory was this clear. “I wanted to make her see, make her realize who she belonged to. Somehow, I’d thought that was the way to do it.” Hot tears rolled down my cheeks, and I couldn’t stop them regardless of how hard I tried. “I took the only person who ever really loved me, and fucking shredded her.”

Charlie pulled my hands away from my face, every inch of my skin responding to her touch, waking up underneath the gentle graze of her fingers as she wrapped her arms around my neck, clutching me to her.

“So, yeah,” I said, clinging to her even though I wondered why the fuck she wasn’t running in the opposite direction. “I’m a fucking monster, and I always will be.”

“You’re wrong,” she said, pressing her head against mine. She pushed me back slightly, wiping the tears off my face. “A monster wouldn’t be able to look back and see his wrongs, acknowledge his sins. A monster would celebrate getting away with it so long, and he most certainly wouldn’t ache over the events. He wouldn’t try to kill himself slowly with liquor, torture himself day in and day out over what he’d done.” She cupped my cheek, her green eyes showing me nothing but sincerity.

I shook my head, not allowing myself to believe her though my heart begged me to. “You should be afraid of me.”

“I’m not. I can see you, Justin. Remember? And now I know the source of your torture.” She touched the center of my chest. “You’ve taken your inventory, gathered all the wrongs you’ve done, but you aren’t letting them go. You’re giving them control over your present life, and that will only take you straight back to the bottle. You have to let them go, understand what you did was wrong, horrible even, but acknowledge that you are no longer that man.”

“I am still that man!” I snapped, jerking away from her gentle touch, her accepting, open arms. I paced the length of the dock, adrenaline making my arms shake. “I’m angry. All the time. At myself, at her. At what I turned into. I used to be decent—I know I was. I just can’t fucking remember where it all went wrong. I have no clue how to get back there. I don’t think I can.” I stomped against the wood harder with each step, my soul twisting inside, wringing out all my shit for Charlie to see. “Drinking is the only thing that evened me out. The only thing that made me forget. And honestly, the second I’m free of this place, I’ll go back to it. I’ll have to, or I’ll be stuck living with the monster that I am.”

One second Charlie was sitting calmly on the bench and the next she was blocking my path, shoving her palms against me so hard I stumbled back a few paces.

“What the fuck?”

“Is that what you want?” She pushed me again. “You want me to punish you? You want me to say you’re a sick twisted asshole who deserves to be in prison? Huh?” She smacked my chest, my skin stinging underneath her harsh touch. Heat pulsed in my core and even though I saw the hit coming, I didn’t block it when she slapped me across the face. “When will it be enough, Justin? When will you have suffered enough to pay for what you did? Cause I can hit you all fucking day if it will rid you of this and put you on the path you deserve. Which is a clean, promising life.”

I glared at her, adrenaline shaking my entire body now. She read the hesitance in my eyes and cracked me across the face again. The pain was minimal, but the impact was a direct hit.

“You. Are. Not. A. Monster.” She pronounced each word clearly despite being breathless.

“I am---“

Another shove to my chest cut me off.

“That night, the one you have nightmares about? Guess what, buttercup? That was the night you woke the fuck up! You’re not that man anymore. You haven’t been since then.”

“You have no idea who I am.” I crossed my arms over my chest.

“Really? You want to play that game with me? I’ve been here, with you, every day for weeks, but it took me all of five minutes to peg you. You’re the brooding, introspective, man who lets his past haunt him. Lets it destroy every good thing in the present. You’re the guy who has done every exercise I’ve ever asked him to do, no matter how ridiculous. You’re the man who smiles when he thinks no one is looking, laughs when he thinks no one can hear it. You just confessed to me, Justin. You gave me the darkest piece of yourself and guess what? It’s mine now. You can’t have it back. You have no choice but to move forward. Live every day to better yourself, because if you don’t? That’s how you let the monster win.”

I clenched my eyes shut, two tears squeezing out despite my efforts to stop them. Fuck, this girl. She saw the dirty pieces of my soul and picked them up like they were something precious. Collected them and carried them willingly. Without judgment or fear, she gave me every single thing I needed without asking for a thing in return except that I be the man she believed me to be. How could anyone be so perfect?

But she wasn’t. She had black spots on her past just as much, or more so than I did. She was far from perfect, full of flaws. She was simply perfect for me.

Shit.

I opened my eyes, and though nothing had changed, everything looked different. The sun glittered brighter off the lake, the sky blue and crisp against the white clouds in the sky. I breathed in deep, the motion satisfying for the first time in years. I’d never unloaded the weight I carried on anyone before.

Charlie shoved me again, but I didn’t budge this time. I felt solid and reckless at the same time. Light but grounded.

She reached her right hand back, readying to slap me again but I stopped her before she made connection. A smirk played across her pink lips as she eyed where my hand fully enveloped her tiny wrist. Her chest heaved in unison with mine, the adrenaline slamming into me like the strongest want I’d ever felt.

Don’t. She’s your sponsor. Untouchable.

She swiped the tip of her tongue across her bottom lip, and I was a fucking goner.

Fuck it.

I tugged on the wrist in my hand, yanking her to me. Her body hit flush against mine, and I crushed my lips on hers, pouring every ounce of emotion I had into the kiss. She opened up for me, giving me the green light where I was fully prepared to stop at the hint she didn’t want this. Her tongue slipped into my mouth, and I rubbed it with my own, flicking against the edges of her teeth until she sighed between my lips.

Fingering the strands of her soft hair, I angled her to deepen the kiss, wanting nothing more than to devour her. She fisted the back of my shirt, pulling me against her as she backed into the railing of the dock. I pressed my hips into hers, unable to hide my hard dick as she wrapped one leg around me. Grabbing a handful of her perfect ass, my fingers grazed the hem of her shorts, feeling her silky smooth skin, and she whimpered before sighing, “Stop.”

I jerked backward, the sound stopping the hot blood pulsing through my veins cold.

She looked at me with hooded eyes, lust pouring from the green and gold flecks but I couldn’t think straight. That sound. Was it a good whimper or a bad one? Was I forcing this? She kissed me back---

“Justin,” she whispered. “Don’t.”

Oh, fuck. I’d done it again.

“I’m sorry. Fuck, I didn’t think” The urge to go Hulk on the dock surged through my chest.

“No, stop,” she said, stepping toward me.

“I am. I did! I thought you wanted…fuck, I’m sorry.” I kept backing away from her, though she advanced as if I would jump her at any second out of control.

“No.” She wouldn’t stop coming at me. “I mean, shit. Yes. I wanted that, Justin. Please. God, I wanted that.”

A huff of air flew out of my chest as I backed against the opposite rail, nowhere to run. “Wait, what?”

“I wanted that. I want you, Justin. I do. We just”

“Can’t,” I said, the rage at myself cooling with her words. I hadn’t forced her. I hadn’t. “You’re my sponsor.”

“Right,” she said, her hands dropping to her sides. “And that means I have to put your well being before my own desires.”

I nodded, my stomach hitting the floor. Damn, I didn’t think I’d ever be so disappointed to have someone helping me in my life. But I was. Fuck I was. “I told you I don’t know how to get back to normal.”

“You want me to tell you how?”

I gazed at her slightly swollen lips. “Yes.” I would do anything to be worthy of claiming those lips again, even if it meant months from now after I completed the program, and by God, I would complete this fucking thing if it killed me. If Charlie was an option in my future, I would go through hell to get to her.

“Forgive yourself.”

I sank heavy on the wooden bench to my left, my eyes on the water. “You’ve just asked me to do the one thing I’m physically incapable of.”

She stepped in front of me, forcing me to look up at her. “You think you can’t, and maybe it’s too soon now but you will have to someday if you want to move forward. Until then,” she scratched the stubble along my jaw. “Am I enough?”

I tilted my head. She could read me better than anyone ever had before, stripping me bare until I was nothing but hers for the taking. How could she not see how much she meant to me? She arched an eyebrow at me and then it clicked.

“You mean…” I sucked in a sharp breath. “You forgive me?”

She nodded, slipping an arm around my neck. “Yes, Justin. I forgive you for your past, for what you’ve done.”

It was like the wind knocked out of me, and I leaned my head against her stomach, allowing her to hold me there. I hadn’t thought forgiveness was an option, but Charlie had granted it with a few simple words and reassurance from those eyes of hers. And now that she’d given it to me so freely, I wanted to earn it.

6

Remove defects of character

“Do you think that your instant response to any kind of conflict is anger because you’re displeased with how people approach you or because you’ve been angry with yourself for much too long?” Thomas asked as he bounced from one foot to the other in the ring.

I slammed my gloved hand against the mat, the flesh beneath my ribs still stinging from the hit he’d just landed. “You’re the doctor,” I hissed through clenched teeth. Mr. Rodgers hadn’t let up a bit over our sessions, and while my body hated him, I respected the hell out of him for it.

“Justin,” he chided as I rose to my feet.

“The last one,” I answered honestly.

Charlie would be proud. She wanted me to open up to people other than her, said it was part of the process of recovery, and I’d do just about anything to be worthy of her when this was all over.

The heat from her lips still lingered on my mouth despite the week it had been since I’d kissed her on the dock. Since then I’d kept my distance, respecting the professional line drawn between us, but damn if I didn’t want to cross it every single second we were together. Even when I was spilling my guts to her, over and over, about instances in my past where I couldn’t recognize the man I’d been then. She’d not only listen, she’d swallow it and match it with a story of her own. We were the same in so many ways—both fighting addictions we’d used to bury our pasts, hide the darker parts of ourselves, both angry at the hand life had dealt us but prepared to take a turn to change it now. She was fairing better at the last part than I was.

“And being here for six weeks? Has the anger settled since there has been so much space since your last drink?”

I could answer him. I wanted to, but I also liked the arrangement we had, so I darted out a right jab, tapping the side of his jaw with just enough force to make his head jerk back. He recovered quickly, dancing with speed I aimed to match, before landing a hit to my left cheek.

The sting of pain made me laugh. “Do you ever find it ironic we’re working on my anger issues inside a boxing ring?”

“I do, but let’s face it, you’re not really the lay on the couch and open up kind of man, are you?” Thomas smirked and raised his gloves to block most of his face.

“No. That I am not.” Unless perhaps the couch had Charlie on it. God, I couldn’t get her out of my head, and I’d seen her this morning. She’d brought me breakfast, and though I was grateful for the gesture, it only made me realize how desperately I wished I could take her out for a proper date. But that was impossible, because not only was she my off limits sponsor—the one person I was to turn to the second I felt myself reaching for the bottle—she was also the only one allowed to leave the grounds.

I jabbed left twice, then right, the muscles in my arms burning from the rounds I’d stopped counting long ago. “And, I feel better,” I said, finally answering his question. “Don’t get me wrong. I still want a fucking drink. But it’s not as…urgent. More like a low buzz where it used to be an alarm.”

“And the reasons behind that, you think?” He danced until he threw me off balance and hit me square in the abdomen.

I sucked in a sharp breath. “Step five.”

He cocked an eyebrow at me, dropping his hands. “Really?”

Wrong move. I hit him with a right hook across his jaw.

“Touché,” he said.

“Really.” I backed up to the opposite side of the ring, giving him space and me a minute to breathe.

“It wasn’t me you confessed to,” he said.

“Obviously.”

“Conner?” He tilted his head, his eyes trailing me up and down before widening. “Ahh. Charlie.”

Her name soared through me like the first drink of the night, but I didn’t confirm it.

“I’m glad to see things are working on that end. You need to talk to someone freely. I’m happy for you, even if it isn’t me.”

“Don’t be jealous, Doc.”

“Can’t help it,” Thomas said, chuckling. “I doubt you made her beat it out of you.”

Heat flushed across my already sweating face, the memory of the sting from her slaps whispered like a caress on my skin.

“Oh no,” he said, leaning against the ropes. “You haven’t…”

“What?” I asked when he didn’t go on.

“Justin, she’s your sponsor. You can’t---“

“I know. We aren’t.” I shut him down as quickly as possible.

“That only ends in disaster,” he continued anyway and had the audacity to look pissed. “You have to keep your feelings for your sponsor strictly platonic. If you blur the lines, with stakes as high as confessing your past transgressions and laying your soul bare every time you feel like giving up, you’ll wind up not knowing if what she says is because she’s your sponsor or because she cares about you on another level. The trust gets tangled, and she won’t be able to treat you like she would any other charge.”

Well, fuck. I hadn’t thought of it in that light before. My gut turned sour with the thought, but I swallowed a mouthful of acid to offset it. I wasn’t planning on crossing the line with her anyway. I would wait, patiently, until I was done. Until I didn’t need a sponsor anymore. Then we would see what happened between us.

“She makes me want to be better,” I said without really knowing why. I shrugged. “I can’t help it, Doc. I’m not going to cross any lines, but I’m not going to throw away the one thing that has made me see hope since before I can remember.”

He nodded. “I see.”

In an effort harder than lifting a car, I swallowed my pride and stepped toward him, shredding my hands of the gloves. “Will you help me?”

Thomas eyed the gloves in the center of the mat. He could easily throw a punch, lay my ass out on the mat, defenseless as I was now. “For you or for her?”

“Both. She deserves the best version of myself.” He eyed me, so I hurried on. “When I’m free to give it to her.”

He chewed on his bottom lip for a minute, contemplative. About what, I wasn’t sure. How could it be a hard decision to help a willing patient? Maybe he didn’t trust that I’d be truthful?

“Okay, tell me more about Blake.”

He may as well sucker punched me. “We’re just going to dive the fuck in then?”

“We only have so much time before your program is completed, and you’ve dodged the real questions since you got here.” He slipped his own gloves off and tossed them next to mine. He motioned toward the exit. “Come on,” he said stepping out of the ring. “You can tell me about her while we walk the grounds.” He chuckled. “I’m glad I don’t have to beat your ass anymore to get answers, but I still don’t think you’d do well on a couch.”

“You’re not wrong.” I laughed, following him outside, a slight breeze on the air cooling my flushed skin. The wind carried a scent I hadn’t realized I’d come to hate until recently. “Fucking perfect,” I said, sucking my teeth as I looked up at the sky.

“What?” Thomas asked.

I nodded toward the dark gray storm clouds gathered in the sky. “Storm is coming.”

He shrugged. “It’s the season. Why does that bother you so much?”

A dark chuckle ripped from my lips. “Well, you wanted to know about Blake. Here goes. First off, she’s a storm chaser. Always has been, even before she knew she was…”

And then I told him everything. From how we’d met, how we’d fallen in love, how we were each other’s firsts in every single aspect of the word, and everything in between. I told him about the dark times, times I couldn’t remember clearly, about when things got worse, when she found her calling, when I knew it was over, and finally, to the darkest night of my life…the night I woke the fuck up.

He listened, and I talked, and we’d circled the grounds three times by the time I was done. I didn’t cry this time, not like I had with Charlie, but that’s because this wasn’t baring my soul as I had to her. I didn’t yearn for Thomas’ acceptance. I merely wanted him to help me. Really help me figure out if something inside me was unfixable, so broken and damaged I would be a danger to Charlie, to anyone I ever decided to let in again. I needed him to tell me if I was worth the effort to put back together, or if I should just give up and drown myself at the bottom of a bottle.

A bright flash of lightning cracked in the distance, followed by a rumble of thunder. Seemed fitting, as I turned over a list of all that was wrong within me, all that I’d done to Blake, for there to be a storm breaking the sky. I could see the look in her eyes as clear as it was yesterday, the way she lit up when she heard the storm coming—and I couldn’t understand why that memory was clear and the others weren’t.

“You called it something,” I said, looking at Thomas who had been exceptionally quiet as I spilled my story. “Gaslighting?”

He cleared his throat. “Yes.”

“Still your diagnosis?”

“It’s what you did to her, yes. The reasoning behind it is much different, though. Especially with your awareness of the situation now. Part of conquering one’s faults is acknowledging that they are there. A part of you. And another part is letting go of a past you can’t change and accepting control over what you have now.”

I honestly didn’t feel like I had control over shit right now, least of all my emotions, my life, the situation I’d gotten myself into with Devlin—which I’d conveniently left out of my story.

“Am I a lost cause?” The question was barely a whisper between us. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to know.

“Nothing is ever lost, Justin.” He clutched my shoulder. “You didn’t wake up and decide to gaslight that girl. You loved her once. You may still. What happened is a result of a combination of deep resentment and an overly active anger trigger. Does it explain away what you did? Not at all. Can you move past it? Absolutely. But it will cost you.”

I swallowed hard. “I’m guessing the price is steep?” I tried to joke.

“That depends on you. How much you’re willing to put into staying clean, staying on top of your anger.”

I nodded, thinking of the man I wanted to be, not only for Charlie but for me. I wanted to look in a mirror again some day and not hate myself.

“And you’ll have to make amends, as part of that price.”

I snapped my head to him. “What?”

“Soon, you will be given the chance to make direct amends to the one you afflicted. The one who is the source of your darkness.”

“Blake,” I whispered her name. “You want me to…speak to her?”

“Not just speak. See.”

All the blood drained from my face, and my heart raced against my chest. “And if I can’t?”

“Then you’re not ready to move forward.” He patted me on the back and moved toward the facility, leaving me standing there, frozen.

I’d thought the price of recovery would be steep. I couldn’t have been more wrong. If I had to seek Blake out and apologize to her, it wasn’t just steep…it was fucking impossible.

7

Remove shortcomings

“You have a visitor,” Conner said after opening my bedroom door, not bothering to knock. We had an open policy during the day. I trusted the guy more than any blood I’d ever known.

“Who?” I asked, closing the book I’d been reading that Charlie had left with me that morning. I’d never understood the draw to reading if you weren’t forced to but with the time I had secluded in here, I was quickly learning the pleasure in it. It was an intimate act, connecting with the characters, or not connecting but hating them. Either way, it was another legal form of escape, as Charlie would say. I sat it down on my nightstand right next to the stack of letters from my aunt I’d collected—one every week since I’d checked in. I hadn’t written her back, but I’d called her last week for a quick and painless progress report.

Conner shrugged. “You have a brother you didn’t tell me about?”

I scrunched my eyebrows together. “No, man. You’re the one with brother issues.”

“I don’t have brother---“

“Justin.” A male voice I didn’t recognize cut Conner off. “Good to see you.”

Conner arched an eyebrow, a silent question of it if was cool to leave or not. I nodded, and he shut the door behind him, leaving me and the stranger in my small and suddenly crowded room. He was as big as a wrestler and kind of reminded me of…

“Shit.”

“Devlin says hello,” he said, sitting in the metal folding chair on the opposite side of my bed.

“We’re not due for a supply boost for another two weeks. And you’re new.” I always had the same, much smaller and less imposing delivery guy since I’d been here.

“I’m not here for that. More like an employee review.”

“Okay.” I kept my face even. Something was off. I could feel it in my over firing nerve endings that had me cracking my knuckles.

“Devlin says it’s been two weeks since you checked in. You’re supposed to make weekly calls. This worries him.” Damn the dude sounded like a robot.

“Are you two related? Because you look so much alike.”

“He’s my brother.”

I nodded, no wonder he was acting as one to pass judgment while his brother was locked up.

“The calls?” He asked.

Every muscle in my body tensed. I hadn’t pushed one pill—despite begging and pleading on my customer’s end—since I’d flushed that stash in the art room toilet with Charlie. The same day I’d realized I wanted to be better, and only one week before actually asking for help to get there. And I’d known then, just like I did now, that this portion of the process would be harder than any other to get over.

“I’ve rethought our arrangement.”

“And?”

“I don’t like it. I’m taking all the risk.”

He crossed his massive arms over his chest. “You want a higher cut?”

I shook my head. “Nope. I just want out. It was easier in prison to move this shit. If you can believe that.”

He glared at me before laughing as he stood up. He shoved the chair back as he moved slowly toward the door. “I’ll tell Devlin to expect your call tomorrow regarding stock.”

“What?” I asked, bolting off the bed. “Didn’t you hear me, man? I’m done. You can send your errand boy to collect what I have left, or you can take it right now, either way, I’m not moving one more pill.”

He moved away from the door, stopping an inch away from me. I stilled my body, focusing on every movement, preparing for a fight. He’d end me easily, but I would go down swinging.

“I heard you. Trust me. You don’t want to do that.”

“You going to force me to change my mind?” I raised my chin, daring him.

“I don’t have to. Devlin already has.”

I arched an eyebrow.

“He always has a contingency plan in case one of his employees gets cold feet.” He shrugged. “Occupational hazard.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“That pretty little brunette of yours? The one you had pictures of in half the boxes in that shit storage locker where all your stuff is currently being held?”

The floor dropped out from under me.

“Yeah, we know all about her. Know she’s some hot shot chaser, currently tracking on the alley.”

My blood sizzled.

“So you want me to go ahead and tell Devlin you’re out? Cool. Just be sure you know which hospital to send your girl flowers.”

I slammed into him with the force of a Mack truck, shoving his ass against the opposite wall so hard his head smacked against it. A few blinks and he hurtled a meaty fist into the side of my head, and stars burst behind my eyes, my ears ringing with nothing but static for a few moments as I tumbled to the floor.

“Fuck,” I managed to say as he stood over me.

“That one is free, Justin. Act out like that again and I’ll end you. Then your little chaser too.”

I started laughing hysterically as I gripped the side of my head, my fingers coming back sticky with my own blood. “You’re a fucking idiot.”

“Come again?” He snapped, grabbing the collar of my shirt and hoisting me to my feet.

The truth of him getting the wrong girl was on the tip of my tongue before I realized the fact would only make him dig deeper into who would be the right girl. Charlie’s face filled my vision and the idea of her being at risk over something I’d done on my own hurt worse than the hit the Hulk had just delivered. And despite everything that had happened between us, I still didn’t want Blake to get hurt either. I hoped her chasing on the alley would be enough to distance her from this danger, and give me enough time to figure a way out of it.

“I said tell Devlin we need more valium.”

He released my shirt, and I took a step back, swiping at the blood still trickling down the side of my face. “Good. Smart. Didn’t peg you for that.”

“I’m nothing if not surprising.”

“You may want to put some ice on that,” he said before walking out my door.

I flipped him off before sinking back on the bed.

Fuck. My. Life.

The shit storm just turned into a shit tornado, and I was in the fucking middle of it. How the hell could I protect a girl I hadn’t spoken to in over a year? One I’d hurt so badly she’d put so much distance between us I’d been sure I’d never hear her voice again? And how could I get out of Devlin’s drug business without hurting her, myself, or someone else I cared about?

The notion that I had more than one person on my care list would’ve been a victorious moment for me after the lonely year I’d had, but the situation didn’t really allow for celebration.

I was so fucked.

* * *

“Did Thomas do that?” Charlie asked, sinking onto the same metal chair the Hulk had set in hours ago.

I dropped the ice pack on the stand next to my bed. “He wishes he was that strong.”

“Justin,” she chided.

“Charlie,” I mimicked her, glancing down at the legs she had crossed over one another. “Are those moons or circles of cheese?” I asked, trying to focus on the pattern on the tight fabric rather than her appraising eyes.

“Obviously, it’s cheese. Now, what happened?” She stood up, retrieving the pack and gently placed it against the knot that had formed near my left temple after the blood had dried.

“I ran into a doorknob?”

She pinched the skin of my neck so hard I flinched. “Okay, okay.” I raised my hands in defense, taking the pack from her as she sat down next to me on my bed. “I had a disagreement with someone.”

She reached out to pinch me again, and I blocked her, intertwining our fingers and lowering my voice. “My employer wasn’t too thrilled at my request to be let go.”

Realization clicked in her eyes before they widened. “Oh my God.” She covered a gasp with her fingers. “I’m so proud of you.”

I tilted my head, cold water dripping down my arm from the pack. “Seriously? I got my ass handed to me, and you’re proud of me?”

“You’re out! That’s huge.” She squeezed my hand. “I hate that you’re hurt but, Justin, this is amazing.”

My stomach rolled for the hundredth time since the douche had left, the happiness and pride in her eyes crushing me. I opened my mouth to tell her the truth—tell her that I hadn’t gotten out yet and that there was a very large ax hovering over not only my head, but Blake’s as well—but I choked on the words. No one had ever looked at me the way she was looking at me now. She was honest to God proud of me, and I selfishly chose to live in that world where I was a man to beam at.

Charlie shifted next to me, releasing my hand. “What’s wrong?” She asked, noticing my lack of enthusiasm.

I retook her hand. “Nothing, just…beat.” Damn I hated lying to her. Wow, I actually hated it…like it left a shitty taste in my mouth. The more I thought about it, though, the more I was happy about my impromptu plan not to tell her about the threat. She didn’t need to get any closer to this mess than she already was. And I would get out. I would figure a way out of this where no one would get hurt.

“Don’t lie to me, Justin. You know how much I despise people who lie.” She glared at me, reading me as well as she had since day one.

My chest wrenched as I worked up another lie. “I know. I’m just…worried. I don’t want them to retaliate on someone I care about.” I pressed my lips together knowing she knew it was her I spoke of.

She sighed. “What are we going to do?”

Her use of the word we both warmed my insides and frosted over my heart—fear over what would happen if anyone caught wind about how much I cared for her. I reached up, tracing the soft curves of her face with my thumb.

“Maybe they won’t.”

“What can I do?” She leaned into my palm like it wasn’t even a thought.

“I need you to leave.”

“What?” She jerked out of my touch. “Why?”

“I can’t have anyone realize what you are to me.”

Her shoulders dropped. “I’m just your sponsor.”

“You know you’re so much more than that.”

Her lips parted, unspoken words caught in her mouth.

I wanted to kiss them out of her. Wanted to feel her body against mine even for just a moment. I leaned closer, moving slowly to give myself time to come to my senses.

She closed the distance between us, her lips touching mine with the lightest of pressures. The tip of her tongue barely grazed the corner of my mouth before she stood up and walked to the door. The absence of her heat left me cold.

“I’m your sponsor,” she repeated. “You know we can’t keep doing this.”

“I know,” I said. And now, with the mess I’d gotten myself into, there was more at stake than just a professional line.

I crossed the room, stopping an arms length away from her just to be safe. “I’ll still see you, Charlie…right?”

“Of course. We’ll keep it public. Nothing intimate.” A piece of her hair fell in front of her face. I reached out to her but quickly jerked my hand back.

“Right.”

She turned to leave, but I stopped her. “Charlie?”

“Yeah?” She asked, glancing over her shoulder.

“That part of my life is over now. For good.” Just keep driving it home, asshole. God, why did I have to open my mouth? Why did I have to crave her approval, her pride in me?

She pursed her lips. “I know. Like I said, I’m proud of you.”

I shut the door behind her and leaned my forehead against the cold wood, my heart racing at the glowing look in her eyes, at the sensation of something so good and pure on the horizon. My stomach twisted, reminding me of all the ways I was good at fucking things up when they turned great.

8

Amends

“I might puke,” I said and rubbed my slick palms against the top of my jeans. Did Charlie’s car have to be so fucking tiny? I couldn’t get a decent breath in the small bug, and my chest was aching for release.

“Then open the door and do it,” Charlie said, patting my shoulder lightly.

I tried not to glare at her. This wasn’t her fault. I mean—yes, she was the one who had gotten me the twenty-four-hour pass from the clinic so I could properly carry out step eight in the program—but she wasn’t the source of my problem. Sucking in a sharp breath, I forced myself to look up from where I’d had my head tucked down, and acid crept up my throat.

“Fuck, there she is.” Everything inside me went still and shook all at the same time, my body a battleground of confliction. My heart soared at the sight of her long brown hair, those dark brown eyes I’d sought comfort in since I was a kid. Then, it quickly iced over as a barrage of images beat upon my memory like a flock of crows swooping to pick my eyes out. All the fights, the tears, the hurt. And it was all my fault.

Funny, I could see that clearly now, when two years ago I would’ve denied I was anything short of a real boyfriend to my grave. The night of my awakening—that awful night—had stripped me of every sense of denial I had about my identity, exposing my darkness like a raw nerve, and I’d done nothing but sear it off with liquor until my aunt had found me. And here, now, with Charlie next to me, and over eight weeks sober, I felt nothing shy of terrified.

“She’s gorgeous.” Charlie’s voice was quiet but in the silence of the car, it boomed.

“Yeah,” I said, sighing.

She stood on the front porch of a two-story house, leaning against the wooden railing, her hands hanging over as she wrung them out. I don’t know why or what force on this earth made her agree to this meeting…but seeing her so close…I was frozen.

“You should go. I’ll be right here,” Charlie said, touching my arm.

“This was a mistake. I can’t do this.” My fingers shook against the door handle, nothing but the echo of Blake’s screams ringing in my ears from that night.

“Justin Hobbs,” Charlie snapped. “You suck it up and go talk to her. She managed to meet you half-way, do you know how hard that must have been for her?”

“Yeah, and I’ve never been as strong as her either.” I snapped back, locking eyes with her. The flecks of gold burned amber as she shook her head and cupped my cheek.

“You are no longer that person. She’s never met you, Justin. Or perhaps, she knew you long ago, when you were kids, but you’ve been gone a long time. It’s time to re-introduce yourself.”

Her words soothed over my frayed nerves like a sedative, and I took a deep breath. “What if she calls me out for the monster I am…was? What if she says she hates me and is plotting my murder? What if”

“Then you let her say those things. Let her get it out but then you say what you came here to say. That’s all you have to do. It doesn’t erase the past. It only helps you create a better future. Understand?”

My knee bounced up and down uncontrollably, and I raked my fingers through my hair. “Charlie,” I groaned. “I really want a fucking drink right now.”

She grabbed my chin, her delicate fingers digging into my scruff just enough to bite. “I know you do. I know you think it would make this so much easier, but it would only make it worse. You know why?”

I sighed, my face still firmly in her grasp. “It’d only feed the monster I used to be.”

A breathtaking smile took over her face. “Used to be. That’s right.” She glanced down at my lips for a blink before releasing me. “You can do this.”

“I have to do this.”

“Yes, but more importantly, you can. And I’ll be right here waiting for you.”

“Promise?” I hated that I sounded like a five-year-old boy begging for reassurance, but I needed it. If it weren’t Charlie who’d driven me to Blake’s agreed upon meeting place, if it wasn’t Charlie who was giving me all the words I needed to hear right now, then I probably would’ve bolted. Quite possibly found the nearest bar too.

“Tick, tock. Tick, tock.” She chuckled, and I nodded.

My stomach rolled over and over again as I stepped out of the car, and when Blake’s eyes locked with mine across the distance? Well, I’m shocked I didn’t fucking puke right there. Each step I took toward her felt like my boots were encased in cement, and my heart pounded against the weight. The closer I got, the more my limbs shook, so I shoved my hands in my pockets and locked my muscles as much as I could.

I took the three steps up to the porch, glancing around at everything—the wooden swing, the crystal clear windows that opened up to a large, clean living room, to the red door—anything to keep my eyes off of Blake.

“You look different,” she said. Always so much stronger than me, she’d opened the door for me to speak before I could do it myself.

I trailed my eyes up to her slowly, like if I did it too fast, she’d disappear. She was still incredibly beautiful, maybe more so now through this clearer set of eyes I had. A tiny part of me had wondered on the way over here if I would want her as badly as I’d used to. If seeing her again would resurrect the deep and twisted love I’d had for her for so many years…but it didn’t. I loved her, still. I would always love her, but it was far from what I remembered. More careful, contained, and simply with the wish for her to be happy…to be undamaged by what I’d done to her.

“I need a haircut,” I said then glanced around the porch again. “This your place?”

She crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head.

“Is it…” I couldn’t say the dude’s name. I didn’t even want to think it. The second he came into her world I was forced to see parts of myself I wished I hadn’t. Of course, I owned that darkness now, but it didn’t make me hate him any less.

“Yes,” she answered when I didn’t continue.

“You live here now?” I quickly clenched my eyes shut. “I didn’t mean that like an accusation…” Fuck, it was hard trying not to sound like an ex-boyfriend. “I was just curious, honestly”

“It’s all right, Justin. Breathe.” She took a step closer to me, and her scent enveloped me even from a foot away. Not the one I remembered but a new one. She smelled like a rainstorm. Figured. “And no, I don’t live here. We’re taking a break.”

My eyebrows shot up. “Sorry to hear that.”

“No, we’re not taking a break.” She sighed. “We’re on break from chasing. That’s why I was in town when you called.”

I nodded. She’d been with him for over a year. Maybe she was happy. Maybe I could be too someday.

“I’m glad you weren’t hurt,” she said. “When I got the call…I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help you.”

“Are you serious?” I shook my head. “Fuck. If I were you, I wouldn’t be sorry. I wouldn’t have even called my aunt like you did. I would’ve left my ass there to rot in prison.”

Her mouth popped open, but she shut it, shaking her head. “I…I didn’t know what else to do.”

“I don’t think you’ll ever know how grateful I am that you called her, Blake.” A sharp pain wrenched through my chest as I said her name out loud. I glanced over my shoulder, where Charlie sat parked on the street, before returning my focus to Blake. “The program…it’s helped me realize so many truths I didn’t want to ever acknowledge.” I pulled my hands out of my pockets and raked them through my hair, my fingers still trembling. “I needed to see you today, to make amends. That night”

“Justin,” she cut me off and the pain in her voice ripped through me like a time-portal straight to that night. To the sound of Hail’s whimper, her rib cracking underneath my kick. To Blake’s cries, to her vulnerable flesh puckering under my forceful hands. “We can’t”

“I have to.” I stopped her. “I have to tell you how deeply I regret what happened. And the hell I put you through before then. I have no excuses,” I said, the reasoning I had in my head rushing through like bright neon signs. Sure, Thomas may have helped me work some shit out, and even Charlie had helped me realize why I’d behaved the way I did, but Blake didn’t deserve to hear excuses. She deserved only the truth that mattered, and that was my apology. “I know sorry is a pathetic word that will never make up for what I did to you, but I hope you know I mean it when I say that I have spent every night since trying to undo what I did…what I almost did…”

“Blake are you” His voice cut through my apology, one I’d been giving with my eyes firmly secured on hers, so I saw nothing else, including him opening the front door. My skin tightened like hackles raising up on the back of my neck.

It’s not his fault.

But he’s still a tool.

I couldn’t help my internal reaction to the guy. He simply would never be on my care list.

“I didn’t realize this meeting had already started. I thought you were going to come get me?” He looked at Blake with so much concern I nearly puked again. He wrapped an arm around her waist, planting a kiss on her neck.

“I told you I’d get you if I needed to,” she said, and I may have imagined it but the tone had bite to it.

Trouble in paradise? That was so not my business, and thankfully, I didn’t care. Not anymore. The ease the two had about them didn’t bother me because I knew how it felt to be like that now. Charlie and myself clicked. Just like Blake had with…well, the tool. Hard to blame her for wanting out of something so toxic, especially if she’d felt even a percentage of what I did for Charlie.

“So you’re okay?” He asked her and she squeezed his hand before peeking over his shoulder toward the house.

“Ugh,” she huffed and pulled away from him, motioning inside the house. “I thought you told them to take the day off?”

I followed her gaze, spotting three movie-production cameras hoisted on top of three different sets of massive shoulders.

“Shit!” he snapped. “I did. I swear…” He turned out of her embrace and stomped back into the house, slamming the door.

I arched an eyebrow at her. “Making a movie now?”

She shook her head. “Dash’s team got optioned for a reality series on the Weather Channel.”

“No shit?”

She cracked the first smile I’d seen in over a year. “Yes. He’s quite charismatic. The test audience is in love with him…the show.” She shifted her weight. “Sorry about that. You were interrupted.”

The chick was still saying sorry over everything. I’d assumed after having the perfect relationship that would’ve been worked out of her. Maybe some habits really did die hard. I rubbed the back of my neck where a knot had formed, totally lost in my thoughts.

“I’m not going to pretend like I want to be friends, Blake.”

She raised her eyebrows, and her smile cracked into a laugh.

I couldn’t help but chuckle too. “Honestly, you know that would never work,” I continued.

“Yeah,” she sighed. “I know.”

“So I didn’t come here to work my way back into your life. I came here to apologize. To let you know I’m actively working toward becoming a better man. Not for you, though I do wish I would’ve caught on much sooner…would’ve spared you some pain…but in the end, this is for me. Another selfish act. Wanting forgiveness I know you can’t grant.” I shrugged. “You just had to know. I don’t sit alone at night relishing the way I hurt you. It haunts me, and it should.”

Tears glittered in her brown eyes, but she didn’t let them drop. Add it to the long list of the many times I’d made her cry…but was she…was she smiling?

Yes. It was faint, but it was there. And it gave me the hope I so desperately needed but knew I didn’t deserve.

She sucked in a sharp breath. “It’s been such a long time…”

“Over a year,” I said when she didn’t finish.

Smashing her palms into her eyes, she shook her head. “No. It’s been such a long time since I’ve seen you. The boy I grew up with. I’m happy you found your way back, Justin. I really hope you can maintain this new balance you have.” I didn’t miss the doubt in her voice as she looked over my shoulder, motioning toward Charlie’s white bug. “Does she have anything to do with your new transformation?”

An unstoppable grin shaped my lips. “Some of it, yeah.”

“Good. That’s really good.”

A bubble of awkward silence encompassed the porch as I realized I’d said what I’d come to say to her. Now for the final step.

“Blake?”

“Yes?”

“Could I speak with…Dash, alone, please?” I nearly choked on his name, and I’d honestly rather get hit over the head with a thousand empty vodka bottles than talk to him, but this wasn’t about me. This was about Blake’s safety.

Her eyes popped wide, and I rose my hands in defense. “I just need to talk to him. I promise.”

She slowly opened the door, clutching the knob as she looked back at me. “I know what you said wasn’t easy.” She took a deep breath. “And I want you to leave here knowing you have my forgiveness. It’s not selfish to want to move on, especially when you’re rediscovering yourself like you are. Just…please stick to it. You’re better this way. I could see it the second you walked up here. You’re…clear.”

I nodded, swallowing the massive rock lodged in my fucking throat. Always bigger and better than I’d ever be…Blake. She’d granted me the one wish I never thought possible, offering me more kindness than I’d ever deserve, but of course, she was sharp. She tacked on a price with her offering…stay clean. Keep at it. Stick to it.

“I will. I know my word means shit but I will.” I put every ounce of belief I had in to the words, begging her with my eyes to believe me. I doubted our paths would ever cross again after this and I wanted her to know I wouldn’t shit on the gift she’d just given me.

She gave me a closed mouth smile and walked into the house, her long brown hair lifting in the wind behind her. I shifted my weight, the desire to bolt to Charlie overwhelming but I resisted it. As much as my heart wanted to race at the new freedom it’d been given and relish the feel of the absence of heavy ass chains that had encased it, I had to hold my ground. Because while this was an enormous step toward me reclaiming my life, I still had a huge blemish to take care of, one that Charlie didn’t know about, and one that he had to know about.

“You needed something?” Dash asked as he shut the door behind him. All pleasantries from earlier had left his tone, and I bit back the smart-ass response on the tip of my tongue. I tried to put myself in his position—what if someone had done to Charlie all that I’d done to Blake?

My stomach churned again, and I clenched my hands into fists. Fuck, I was an asshole.

I jerked my head at him, motioning him to come off the porch and closer to the sidewalk. Once a safe distance from both Blake in the house and Charlie in the car, I crossed my arms over my chest. “I need your help.”

He laughed, mimicking my stance, crossing a massive pair of arms over his chest. “That’s one I never thought I’d hear.”

“I’m aware.”

He finally stopped laughing, his eyes trained on the sky like it was second nature. When he brought them back down to me, all humor had left them. “Look, I’m glad you’re in a program, and you’re trying to get some sort of a life back, but I can’t allow it to include Blake. She’s still sorting through the shit you put her through, and I’m doing my best to help her, but it runs deep. You coming back here would only”

“I’ll stop you right there, buddy.” I cut him off. “I’m not back in Blake’s life. This was a one-time deal. She deserved an apology…”

“She deserves eight years worth of apologies from you,” he snapped, closing the distance between us, so our crossed arms nearly touched.

“You think I don’t know that? Fuck, man. It eats at me every single day.”

“Forgive me if I don’t weep for you.”

I tossed my hands in the air, stepping away from him in an act of sheer willpower. He was setting off every fight trigger I had, every sense in me ingrained to work shit out by pounding flesh and bone, but I stepped the fuck back.

“Look, this isn’t why I’m here. I need you to keep a close eye on Blake.”

He shook his head, shock coloring his eyes. “I do.”

“No, I mean, like a stalker-level eye on her. She mentioned she doesn’t live here.” I motioned to the house. “Does she at least stay with you often?”

He glared at me. “That is none of your business.”

Ouch, he could cut me with that look. Had I hit one of his triggers?

“No shit,” I snapped and rubbed my palms over my face. “I got into a bit of a situation when I was in prison, okay? Some not-so-nice guys went through some of my old shit when I got out, for leverage. Found Blake’s pictures, notes, everything I hadn’t gotten rid of.”

“Oh fucking hell,” he said, and started pacing the sidewalk.

“Right. They make me look like fucking Santa Claus. I’m not giving them a reason to go after her. It’s just to keep me in line”

“Which you’re so good at.”

“I’m trying!” I snapped. “I’m really fucking trying, man. Okay? This is the last piece of bullshit I have to deal with and them I’m setting sail on a new fucking life. I just don’t want her getting hurt in the process of severing ties.”

“You really are an asshole,” he said, but he’d dropped his arms to his sides. “Tell me you have a plan. Some sort of sure-fire way to get out of whatever shit you’re in and make sure Blake isn’t involved in the process.”

I stared at him, unmoving and unblinking.

He raked his hands through his blond hair. “Fuck.”

“I’m working on it.”

“I feel so much better.” He sighed. “Did you tell Blake?”

“Of course not.”

He nodded.

“I didn’t want to worry her over nothing. You know how she is…”

“Yeah,” he said. “I do know.”

“I get it. She’s yours. No need to piss all over everything.”

He managed to chuckle again. “I take it you have your own to worry about?” He eyed the bug behind me.

“Something like that. Or the hope for it.”

“She doesn’t know either, does she?”

“She knows more about me than anyone ever has.”

He smirked. “Didn’t answer the question, which means both our girls are in the dark. If she’s anything like Blake, and I really hope to God, she isn’t, then she’ll lose it worse if she finds out you’re keeping something this huge from her.”

Damn I hated him even more when he was right.

“She’s worse,” I said. Charlie had told me day one she hated liars, and I hadn’t wanted to lie to her, but I couldn’t stand her disappointment in me or the idea of her being in danger either. “Blake is easy to forgive. Charlie…I don’t know.”

“Too easy,” he said, his eyes trailing me up and down. “Anyone in particular I need to watch out for? Descriptions? Things they might ask?”

I gave him every last detail about Devlin and his crew and reassured him three more times I would do everything in my power to make sure they knew she had no role in my life anymore.

“Why not just take all this to the cops?”

It was my turn to laugh at his audacity. “Yeah, because they’d believe me. Plus, he’s got guards in his pocket. Who knows how deep his reach runs.”

“Fuck, man.”

“I’ll figure it out,” I assured him. “Are we good?” I asked, and dared to extend my hand.

He looked at the offer like it was covered in acid but latched on to it and shook it so hard my fingers cracked. I jerked my hand back and shook it out, locking every reflex in my muscle that screamed to retaliate.

You deserve it. Take it like a man.

“Stay clean, Justin.” He didn’t bother answering my question, and I couldn’t really blame him. Lucky for me it wasn’t his forgiveness I had sought today. “You might want to get wherever you’re going, quick. A storm is coming.” He glanced at the sky before looking back down at me. “And send word when you have the shit settled, okay?”

I nodded, already heading toward Charlie’s bug. “Good luck with your show,” I said, motioning toward the house.

His eyes turned to slits before he turned on his heel and stomped back up the porch steps.

What’s that about?

None of my business, again, thank God. I had enough to deal with on my own and now that he had a heads up, I breathed easier. He would never let anything happen to Blake. I knew that as sure as I knew I wouldn’t let anything happen to Charlie.

I slipped into the passenger seat and arched my head back on the headrest, letting out a long breath.

“Looked like it went well,” she said, her voice soothing every aching, locking muscle I had.

“It did,” I said and for the first time since I could remember, I felt like I could really breathe. I glanced back up toward the house. Blake was pulling Hail away from the giant window overlooking the porch, a fat pink tongue lapping at the glass where Dash sat on the porch swing.

“Huh,” I said, rubbing the center of my chest.

“What is it?” Charlie asked, starting the car.

“Nothing.” I smiled at her. Seeing Hail, seeing Blake, it should’ve been a sure-fire recipe for the voices, the sounds, the images of that not one hour ago had been haunting me when we pulled up to this place—but I looked at the dog now, looked at the girl I’d used to love, and didn’t flinch.

Thanks, Blake.

Her gift. That was the explanation for the sense of freedom I felt stirring in my blood. It made me dizzy with possibilities, with hope, and with the realization that when I was clean, clear, anything could happen.

9

Direct Amends

“Damn it!” Charlie snapped from her hunched position over the steering wheel. “Your chaser friend wasn’t joking.” She squinted like that would help her see through the torrential rain beating against her windshield.

“He’s not my friend!” I held on to the ohshit handle, shouting to be heard over the thunder that shook her tiny car. A crack of lightning lit up the sky like a blinding firework. The thunder that followed made me fucking jump and all my muscles tensed. How the fuck could anyone choose to chase this? I shook my head and gripped the handle tighter.

“Oh to hell with this,” she said, pulling into the right lane and taking the next exit.

“This isn’t our exit.” I pointed out. “We’re still half an hour away from the facility.”

“Yeah, and I’m not driving in this shit. Grab my cell, will you?” She motioned toward the backpack purse thing she always carried around, and I timidly reached inside, thankful her cell was on top. “Find Thomas’ number and put it on speaker.”

“Why do you have his number?” I asked, punching it.

“You sound jealous.” She chuckled, but the booming thunder swallowed it.

“Where are you, Charlie?” Thomas didn’t bother to say hello.

“I’m stuck in the middle of this crap, Thomas!” She shouted toward where I held the phone. “I’m not risking my life to make it home by curfew.”

“You’re going to turn into a pumpkin.”

“Don’t you mean my car will?” She chuckled, turning on a residential street.

“To hell if I know. He still with you?”

“No, he bolted. Think he’s drinking up more liquor than it is raining.”

“Very funny, Charlie.” Thomas didn’t sound amused. “Justin?”

“Present,” I said, unable to stop the grin on my face.

“Good. Normally I wouldn’t allow this, but Charlie is my best sponsor and I can’t have her getting killed in a tornado.”

“Are we in a watch?” I asked and then cringed. Fucking storms.

“No. It’s just severe now, but the winds are taking cars off highways. Her bug won’t stand a chance.” He sighed, and I could see him fiddling with his cardigan behind his desk, all flustered about breaking the rules. “Charlie, are you near a hotel?”

“Nope, something better.”

“Your home?”

“Bingo.”

“Wonderful. Justin, best behavior. I’m trusting you to act like your within facility walls when you’re in her house. You understand?”

“My house is cleaner than your facility, Thomas.” She pulled into a small driveway and killed the ignition. “We’re here.”

“I expect Justin here for our eight a.m. session.”

“Yes, sir,” I said, though he hadn’t spoken to me and then hung up the phone.

“Ready to get wet?” She asked, her fingers on the door handle.

I chuckled, the lightning making the gold flecks in her green eyes burn.

We opened our doors at the same time, instantly soaked by the cold rain as we made a run for it. She had her keys out and ready, but it still took her a good thirty seconds to get the door open. Her laugh filled the entryway as she tugged me inside and my own joined it.

Our breaths matched in rapid succession from the shock of cold and the sprint.

“Come on,” she said, hurrying through what looked like a small living room with a lone couch and a modest TV sitting on top of a cardboard box.

I followed her into the kitchen as she flicked on the lights and tossed her soaking wet shoes against the door to what I assumed was her utility closet.

“Put your boots over there too, please.”

Thanks to the good leather, my socks were dry, but my jeans and shirt were soaked. Well, this would be a comfortable night.

“Here,” she handed me an oversized kitchen towel, and I slid it over my face, hair, and arms as I sank into one of the two kitchen chairs positioned around a small wooden table on the opposite side of the room.

She rung her blue hair out over the sink, squeezing it with a towel of her own, and I tried not to notice how much of her lacy purple bra I could see through her soaked white t-shirt.

Fuck. My mouth watered and unrestrained want slammed through me as strong as the lightning that cracked outside.

The lights flickered twice before they went out completely.

That helped with the trying to not want her part…but even though I couldn’t see her I knew she was there, wet, cold, and we were alone in her house. Damn, this would be a long night.

She clicked on her cell and lit up a drawer next to her, rummaging through it for a few minutes. I quickly stood up, offering her my cell’s light as well.

“Ah, that’s better,” she said.

I stood so close to her she brushed against me as she moved to strike a match, and it sent a warm shiver down my spine. I froze, this close to her, I could smell her strawberry scent, sense her every movement as she lit a few half-melted green candles and set them on the counter. The tiny flames barely illuminated the two of us but it was enough to catch her eyes as she turned around. She jumped slightly at my nearness, dropping the matches. As she bent to retrieve them, she slipped, her bare feet slick against the semi-wet floor, and I darted an arm out, catching her before she hit the floor. I straightened her, our bodies coming flush.

“Well, this is terribly romantic, isn’t it?” She laughed, her green eyes slightly hooded as they looked up at me.

I couldn’t laugh. My heart pounded so hard against my chest I was sure she could feel it, that’s how close we were. The breath in my lungs stilled as I knew I needed to release her but didn’t want to.

She pressed her lips together, placing the tips of her fingers on my chest. Walking them up, she lightly traced the stubble on my jaw, and I closed my eyes, slowly bringing my forehead to hers.

I wouldn’t kiss her. I wouldn’t kiss her. I would just feel her, here, like this.

She wrapped her hand around the back of my neck, gently using me to lift up on her tiptoes, nuzzling her nose against mine until I looked at her. She was a breath away, her lips a blink from mine.

“Charlie,” I whispered.

“Yes?”

“You’re dangerously tempting my control levels.” I practically growled the words, my head screaming to push her away, to take a giant leap backward before I lost control.

“Justin.” Damn her. She purred my name, and it made my insides heat so much I didn’t feel the rain-soaked cold anymore. “You’re not dangerous.”

“I am.” She knew everything there was to know about me. I had only one secret she didn’t know…how could she not realize how dangerous I was?

“You’re not. Would I get this close if you were?”

“Maybe you like it.”

“What?”

“Maybe you thrive off the danger. Like I do off the fights. Legal releases.”

She shook her head. “Even if that were true,” she said, “It’s not in this case. Not with you.” She rubbed my chest, touching me despite me locking all my muscles, so I didn’t touch her. “I know your past. I know you better than anyone ever has, and I know we’re not allowed to do this, but for just tonight, could you…let go?”

I huffed. “It’s not that simple. I don’t want to hurt you,” I said, clenching my eyes shut. Blake’s voice didn’t come like I thought it would, but I still knew.

“You won’t---“

“Don’t you get it, Charlie?” I cut her off. “I’ve never been intimate with anyone before. Ever. Not like I was supposed to. I only ever saw Blake’s back because I couldn’t stand my reflection in her eyes, the pain written all over her face. I refuse to do that to you. You mean too damn much to me!”

“I’ve told you. You’re not that man anymore. Stop torturing yourself and let go.”

I flexed my jaw, swallowing the words I wanted to say—excuses. Every reason I should shove her away could all boil down to my own fear. I was terrified to lose her, in any capacity.

“Don’t you trust me?” She asked, her eyes open and aware and completely wanting.

Still, I couldn’t answer. I did. I trusted her with everything but this…this was a spot of darkness I didn’t know how to do differently.

“Not as your sponsor but as a woman who wants you? Wants to be with you, despite knowing all the reasons we can’t?”

I sighed, my breath coming out in a twisted huff. She never missed a beat. Always saw right through my fears and cut to the heart of it.

“Of course, I trust you. As my sponsor, as my…Charlie…but I won’t do this to you. I won’t risk your career, your connection with the clinic, all the people you’ll go on to help. You’re too good for that.”

She reached her hand up, cupping my cheek. “I’m not your sponsor tonight, Justin. Tonight,” she sucked in a deep breath. “I’m simply your…Charlie,” she said, smiling as she repeated the term that had come out of my mouth seconds before.

And with her words all my resolve snapped. The passion in her eyes, the spark in her fight for me, it shredded me. I grasped her wrist, stroking it before I placed one small soft kiss against her skin. She sighed like she’d been holding her breath.

Intertwining our fingers, she slowly, almost timidly led me to a kitchen chair and shoved me down on it. I let her, my eyes devouring every single move she made. She never lost mine, moving inch by inch, like it was a calculation, and pulled my shirt over my head, tossing it with a wet thwack on the tiled floor. She crossed her arms at the seam of hers and in one fluid motion, stripped herself of it, revealing the purple lace I’d only gotten a tease of and my mouth watered again, dying for a taste. A flicker of fear pulsed through my over sensitive body, floundering with how badly I wanted this woman…as if she was my next addiction.

No, I wouldn’t let that happen. This was healthy. Dark, twisted, off-limits but healthier than anything I’d ever done in my life.

Another smooth motion and the leggings were gone, leaving her bare to me except for a matching lace thong, and there was nothing I could do to hide how hard I was for her just from looking. She licked her lips, leaning over me just enough for the tips of her hair to brush the skin of my chest. Her delicate fingers found my hands and pushed them behind the chair, forcing them around the wooden bars that made up the back.

“Hold on to these until I tell you not to,” she said, no demanded. I gripped the bars, only lifting slightly to allow her to strip me of my jeans.

She held the wet denim to her chest, letting her eyes graze over my body in a slow trail, before throwing them to the side. I tightened my grip on the bars as she came nearer, wanting to reach out and yank her to me but resisting for the mere reason that she’d told me not to, and I trusted her.

“So many scars,” she said, tracing the pad of her finger over every raised scar I had on my chest, my abs, my right arm.

“You too,” I said, motioning with my head to the tiny silver-like scars on her arms and tummy.

“It’s like we’ve been living side by side for much longer than we’ve ever known.” She quickly yanked off my wet briefs, leaving me bare to her.

I hissed as she settled a leg on either side of my hips, the warmth from her pussy radiating through her thin thong. Damn. I clenched my teeth, forcing myself not to move against her when all I wanted was to lift my hips and press my hard cock against her.

“Agree.” I finally managed to say.

Chills erupted underneath her slow, soft touches as she trailed her fingers over my collarbone, down the center of my abs, over my hips, and finally, over the tip of my covered cock.

“Are you feeling dangerous?” She asked, working her touch back up to my lips as she wrapped her arms around my neck.

“Yes.” She’d reduced me to one-worded answers, my every thought switched to the sensory. The feel of her silky skin against mine, the slight weight of her body as she straddled me, the rough lace against my bare chest.

“Are you going to take me now?”

“No.”

“Why not?” she smirked, the demoness, and rolled her hips against my cock wrenching a growl from my lips.

“Because.”

She ground against me, once, twice, and with more pressure. “Why not?”

I hissed, gripping the bars behind my back so hard I feared I would break them in half. She lightly nipped at my bottom lip and fisted my hair, yanking my head back so I looked her in the eyes. “Why not, Justin?”

The bite in her touch and her voice made me roar on the inside, the beast inside me dying for release, dying to sink its teeth into her. She jerked my hair again and pleasure rolled through each muscle in my body. “You haven’t asked me to, Charlie!” I growled.

“Ahh.” She smiled a devilish grin and sank down on top of me, unmoving, cupping my face in her hands. “You see? You still think you’re the only one in this room with a bit of monster hiding inside them? If I was a good person, I wouldn’t want you the way I do. I’d tell the Doc I’m willing to cross lines with you, to have you—which could very well fuck with your recovery. But, you? Touching me, taking me, loving me? It’s the only thing I am sure about these days.”

I hated the look in her eyes. I hated her plea for me to touch her, take her. Hated that something that was so right—we were so right for each other—would make her feel so bad.

She rolled her hips once more. “Now, Justin. Please, touch me.” She reached behind me and unlatched my hands from the bars, placing them on her covered breasts.

“Fuck, Charlie.” I still wouldn’t move. “Are you sure?” I wouldn’t make the mistake of not knowing what a woman wanted again. She would say it. Again and again if I needed her to.

“Yes, please. I want you to touch me. Take me.”

That was all I needed. I instantly claimed her mouth, parting her lips with my tongue and sucking it into my mouth like I was starving. And I was, fuck I was. She tasted sweeter than I imagined and met my fierce hunger with her own. I tangled my fingers into her hair, angling her head so I could get deeper, stroking her tongue with my own until she bucked against me.

I grazed my hands over her silky skin, relishing the slight raisings from her scars, so different from my own and yet we were more the same than anyone I’d ever been with. She liked the bite, the sting of my teeth nipping at the flesh of her neck, the tops of her breasts. Quickly unsnapping her bra, she moaned when I took one of her nipples in my mouth and rolled it with my tongue before biting it gently.

“God, yes.” Her words made me ache to the point of pain. I sank my hand between us, slipping my fingers inside the lace of her panties, catching her eyes as I did.

“Charlie?”

“Yes, Justin. Fuck, yes.” She shifted against me, forcing my hand to feel how wet she was.

I slid my fingers against her warmth, teasing her clit until she writhed on top of my hand, her thighs clenching on either side of me. She sucked on my bottom lip, keening slightly as I touched her, memorizing every inch of her body.

“More,” she said, sighing into my mouth. “I want all of you.”

“Condom?” I asked, completely unprepared.

“Same drawer as the candles.”

“Are you fucking serious?” I laughed, holding her to me as I stood from the chair. She locked her ankles around my hips, biting my earlobe as I walked us over to the drawer. I jerked it open, feeling around until I found the glorious foil packet. She ground against me as I held her to me, and I growled. “You are the perfect woman.”

She unclasped her legs and slid down me slowly, allowing me to feel every inch of her. She snatched the packet out of my hand, shoving me with her palm back into the chair. “Off.” She snapped her fingers, and I shucked my briefs off like they were on fire.

I arched my head back, my eyes rolling back in my head as she rolled the condom over my length herself.

“Look at me.” She demanded as she grabbed my shoulders.

I complied. I would always do whatever she asked. I’d known that from day one. She kissed me hard, sucking my tongue and nipping at my lip before jerking her head back. Bracing herself with one hand behind my neck, she gripped my hard cock with the other and guided it inside her until I was deep into her warmth.

“Fuck,” I growled. “You’re so tight, so wet.”

Wrapping both arms around my neck, she rocked against me slowly, and I instinctively grabbed the bars behind me.

“No,” she said. “Put your hands on me, Justin.”

I let go, slowly grabbing her hips, allowing her full control as she rode me. I kissed her breasts as she upped her speed, my cock hardening with each roll of her hips, each slam of her on top of me. She moaned, and sighed, and every sound pushed me closer to the edge, closer to losing my control.

“Justin.” She begged for something from the way she used my name and it unleashed what little restraint I’d had.

I reached up and yanked her hair backward, exposing her neck, and bit the soft flesh as she slammed home above me.

“Yes!” She screamed, and I pinched one of her nipples with my free hand, sucking the skin of her neck where I’d bit, only to bite it again. “Fuck, yes!” she writhed above me, each move I made making her tighten around me. The harder I pushed the more she rocked, the more she moaned. We were in synch, our orgasms building, twisting, coiling.

When I couldn’t hold out one-second longer, her body too soft, too hot against mine, I spanked her bare ass with one good smack.

She arched backward, a long moan escaping her lips as she came apart above me, and I clutched her hips, holding her close as I came.

As she went slack above me, her forehead pressed to mine, her thighs quivering against my hips, I lost my mother fucking mind.

“I love you,” I said, still trying to catch my breath.

She went still above me, looking down with an arching eyebrow.

I shook my head, sucking in air. “Don’t say anything. I couldn’t keep it in.”

That was the truth. Charlie had not only stripped me of every defense I had, bared my soul in a way no one ever had been able to before, she had somehow put me back together and shocked me back to life at the same time. Every piece of my heart sang at her presence, and with her still surrounding me? I was in fucking heaven. There was nothing better than this, this clarity of not only mind but body and soul.

She owned me. And I wouldn’t waste one more second pretending like she didn’t.

* * *

My mind was in between awake and asleep—fully aware of the weight of Charlie’s head tucked against my chest, and her leg draped over my hips—when suddenly, I was jerked out of the bed and tossed across the room.

Charlie’s shriek accompanied my grunt, but it took me a full eight seconds to recognize who had jolted me from the most peaceful night’s sleep I’d gotten in years.

“Hulk?” I snapped out the only name I had for Devlin’s brother as he towered over me where I’d smacked against Charlie’s bedroom wall. “What the fuck?”

Two other lug heads filled up the tiny room, one of them standing at the foot of Charlie’s bed—a slim mattress that rested on the floor—as she tugged the covers around herself.

“Justin, what’s going on?” The panic in her voice set my nerves on full rage mode.

“It’s okay,” I assured her. “What the hell are you doing here?” I directed my attention to Hulk as I stood up, still only in my briefs.

A meaty fist slammed into the side of my head before I could blink and I doubled over from the stun of the hit.

“You weren’t there for pickup last night, and when I checked your room this morning? Empty. Devlin is not pleased you’ve decided to run.” He swiped open his cell and jabbed at the numbers on the screen. “I wanted you to see me make the call, ordering the hurt on your chaser.” He glanced over his shoulder where Charlie sat with her arms around her knees in bed. “But it looks like you’ve been double dipping. Twice the leverage then.” He shrugged and held the phone to his ear.

I jerked upward, sinking my fist deep into his kidney while snatching the cell with my free hand. I ended the call before it could connect. Hulk tackled me to the ground, landing three bull-like hits to my ribs.

“I’m. Not. Running!” I managed to huff out between hits.

“What was that?” he asked, stepping off me with one last kick to the gut.

“Stop it!” Charlie screamed but one of the thugs snapped his fingers with a threatening glare, and she clamped her lips shut.

I gripped my side and managed to stand again, the pain searing with each movement. “I had to travel off site yesterday as part of the program. On my way back we got caught in the storm. Had to pull off. I’m heading straight back there this morning.”

Devlin’s brother glanced from me to Charlie to his goons and back again. He arched an eyebrow at Charlie. “That true?”

She nodded, her sexy bed-ridden hair shaking from her movements.

“Well,” he said, straightening his suit jacket. “That is good news. I won’t get blood on my new shoes.” He chuckled, his men following suit. “Then again, a little won’t hurt.” He darted out another jab, cracking me square in the nose so hard I stumbled out of Charlie’s opened bedroom door and into the hallway.

I scooted backward, regaining my footing in the living room. His men followed him as he approached me.

“Here’s the extra valium you needed.” He threw a baggie at my chest with at least forty white pills nestled inside. I let it fall to the floor. “And,” he continued. “Just in case you ever do think about running…” he stepped so close to me I could smell the sausage he had for breakfast on his breath. “I now know where both your women live. You have any more I should know about?”

How the fuck did he find me? No one knew about Charlie and me. No one.

“Fuck you,” I said, earning another crack across my jaw. Damn dude hit like a bulldozer. I fired out with my own jab, splitting his fat bottom lip.

He wiped the blood off with the back of his hand, stopping his guys from rushing me. “Remember how we talked about only that first one being free?”

I raised my chin, my chest heaving, my sides burning from the hits, and my face practically fucking numb from them. “I’ve got the delivery. I’m heading to the clinic. Now, get out of this house.”

He rushed me, slamming me against the nearest wall so hard my head smacked against it with a loud crack. I kneed him, missing his junk by an inch, and he pressed his fat forearm underneath my chin, nearly crushing my windpipe.

“Maybe I’ll just tell Devlin you decided to skip out. Save me the trouble of ever dealing with your ass again.” He pushed harder, and I gaped, struggling to breathe.

A gunshot cracked the air, the sound of plaster crumbling from the wall I was currently pinned against echoing in my ears.

“Maybe you back the fuck away from him, or I put a hole in your head.” Charlie’s voice sounded lethal.

He dropped me and the blood rushed back to my head so fast it hurt. I sucked in massive gulps of air, leaning on my knees for support while looking up at Charlie.

“Is that a pink revolver?” Devlin’s brother asked, a chuckle on his lips despite backing away from me.

Dressed in nothing but the bra and panties from last night, and a peach silk kimono that she didn’t bother to tie, Charlie aimed the small, brightly colored gun at his face with a steady hand, her eyes like a hawk’s darting between him and his men. My heart rate jacked to another degree. “Don’t you just love a true Oklahoma girl?” She jerked the gun in her hand toward them. “And this’ll kill you just as quickly but with style. Now, I am well within my rights to shoot each of you seeing as how you broke into my house.”

One of his men flinched toward her, and she trained the gun on him, stopping him in his tracks. “But getting blood out of carpet is a bitch. Leave. Now.”

Devlin’s brother jerked his head toward the door, and the men obeyed, quickly opening it. He raised his hands to Charlie as he backed out of the door. “No worries, little warrior. We just had to be sure our boy wasn’t breaking the deal he has with our boss. Plus, we had a delivery to complete.” He cut his eyes to me. “I’d sell that quick if I were you. You’re not in the best light with Devlin right now.” He shook his head as he left and I slammed home the lock on her door the second they were out of sight.

Charlie let her arm drop, the small gun at her side.

I limped to her, unclasped her fingers from around the trigger, and set the gun on the same box where the TV rested. “Charlie?” I cupped her face in my hands, noting the tremble to her skin.

She tucked the kimono around her, cinching it at the waist, and looked up at me with tear coated eyes.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know how they found me.” I leaned down to kiss her, to make her forget the terror of this morning, to remind her of how perfect last night had been, but she shoved me away. The motion stung my already aching body.

“You lied to me!”

The floor dropped from beneath me. Being so caught up in the shock of their entrance, the threat, the fact that Charlie could’ve dropped them cold where they stood, had distracted me from the real shit that had hit the fan.

“Charlie, I”

“You said you got out. You lied to my face.” Tears rolled down her cheeks.

“I had to…to keep you safe” I reached for her, but she backed away from me.

“You didn’t have to do anything. I already accepted everything about you! Everything! The one thing I told you was to never to lie to me, and what did you do?” She pinched the bridge of her nose, sucking in a sharp breath. “Get dressed.”

The order was clear in her tone, and I moved as quickly as I could to throw the still damp clothes on from last night. By the time I was done, she donned a pair of plain black leggings and an oversized maroon shirt, her car keys in her hand. She jerked her door open and motioned toward her car.

“I’ll take you back,” she said. “Funny, last night I was going to tell you I could no longer be your sponsor because of what had happened…because I wanted to be with you. But now I can longer be your anything.”

“Charlie,” I sighed her name again as I sank into her car. “Please. Last night—“

“Was a mistake.” She slipped on a pair of sunglasses before starting the car. “One I’ll never make again.” She hit the gas and every mile we drove closer to the facility I tried to come up with an excuse, a reason to make her change her mind. The world felt as if it were crashing down on me in the span of the hour since I’d been awoken from quite possibly one of the best night’s of my life, and I had no idea how to put the pieces back together.

“I meant what I said last night,” I said as she parked outside the facility entrance, my fingers on the handle. “I’m in love with you. And I know I shouldn’t have lied to you…but I wanted to be the man you saw in me. I still do, even now, as the idea of losing you is choking me, begging me to ease the pain with a few—or twenty—drinks. It’s there, beating on my brain like an alarm, blaring, warning, begging. But you know what is stopping me from bolting? From checking out and going back to it?”

She sniffled, and I could see tears trailing from underneath her glasses though I couldn’t see her eyes.

“My heart.” I sighed, opening the door. “Before you, I was sure I’d lost it somewhere. Then you came into my life and reminded me what was worth living for.” I waited several breaths of silence, praying she’d say something, but when she didn’t, I gently closed her door and walked into the building where I watched her drive away.

A hole opened up in the center of my chest, aching from the sudden loss. It had been so full last night—terrified—but full. And now what?

I’d done what I always knew I’d do. I’d fucked up the one good thing I had going for me. Charlie was no longer my sponsor, and for the first time since starting this program, I felt completely and utterly hopeless.

10

Admitted when wrong

“Where you headed?” I asked Conner as he passed me on my way into the building.

He paused, glancing over my shoulder. “Step eight. My brother flew in.” I nodded as he passed me a smoke. “You look like shit.”

“Feel worse,” I said, stepping outside with him to smoke.

“Charlie didn’t…” he squinted his eyes at the bruises I could feel beneath the raised lumped on my face. “do that to you, did she?

I laughed, the motion shooting slices of pain up my side. “No, you idiot.”

Conner smiled with his cigarette between his teeth and raised his hands. “You never know about them rocker chicks, man.”

The image of Charlie, sexy as fuck in an opened kimono, a pink gun in her hand, both thrilled me and scared the shit out of me at the same time. I didn’t even know she owned a gun, then again, I didn’t know other mundane details of her life either—if she sang in the shower, what kind of take out she liked, or the name of that perfume that made her skin smell edible. Funny how those seemed important now after she’d tossed me on the curb, when before, knowing the darkest parts of herself and how she overcame them was enough for me. She was enough, more than enough, because she pushed me right before yanking me in. Slapped me right before soothing me, tore down my defenses right before she showed me how to build them up.

And I’d betrayed her trust in the biggest way.

Fuck. My. Life.

A yellow taxi pulled up to the curb and Conner crushed his cigarette on his boot. “That’s me.”

“Asshole couldn’t pick you up?” I asked, sucking heat into my lungs.

Conner flipped me off with a smile on his face as he got in the car.

“Good luck,” I said as he shut the door. Finishing my cigarette, I couldn’t believe he was off to make amends just like I had done yesterday, and how much things had changed so quickly. While I was beyond thrilled that Blake had given me a more than gracious pass, I was desperate for Charlie to do the same. I knew it was impossible while I was still under Devlin’s thumb—if she’d even consider it at all.

For the briefest of moments—when I was sure there was no way she’d ever forgive me—I thought about calling a cab for myself and hunting down the nearest liquor store. I could crack open a cheap bottle of vodka, and it would wash away all the shit I’d stirred up in my life. It would slide down my throat, hot and clean and take me away from myself and with each drink, I’d forget about how perfect I’d had it for a few short hours.

The image of Charlie, how she felt above me, how I felt when I kissed her, blasted the craving away. One more shot with her would be worth never taking another drink again in my life. That realization—that I wanted her more than I wanted the sweet release alcohol gave me—made me beyond ready to do whatever it took to become the man she deserved.

Determined, I killed my cigarette and stomped through the place, heading directly for Thomas’ office. Three wraps on his door, and he finally opened up.

“I fucked up,” I blurted out the second he let me in and shut the door behind me.

“Damn right you did,” he said as if we’d already started the conversation.

“Wait, what?” Had Charlie called him?

“It’s half past ten, Justin.” He sank into his chair behind his desk; a bright blue cardigan draped over the back of it.

I rolled my eyes. “Being late is the least of my issues, Doc.”

“That’s an understatement.”

I glared at him. “I’m here, aren’t I? Without boxing gloves, ready to talk, and you wanting to fucking jab at me? Can’t you tell I’ve already had enough of that this morning?”

Thomas sighed, his eyes scanning each damaged part of my face. “What happened?”

I rehashed the story, starting at the beginning where I finally admitted to him my role inside the facility, how it had been in place the day before I left prison. I didn’t hold one ounce of feeling back when confessing how much I cared for Charlie, but I kept our kisses and last night to myself. She didn’t deserve any ounce of backlash for my fuckups, and she was one of the best sponsor resources the facility had to offer.

Once I started, I couldn’t stop, and by the end of the one-sided conversation, I’d admitted just about every damn thing wrong I’d done in last three years. So much poured out of me, like Charlie’s cutting me loose had in fact sliced open my soul and let the festering wounds inside bleed out all around me. It hurt, listing off everything like I was describing someone else entirely—a horrible douche from a bad movie. Then, as I finished, it felt fucking great, a dizzying effect like the first instance a drink hits your bloodstream.

Not that I was thinking about a fucking drink right now.

I was surprised at how calm Thomas looked as he took in every word. He sat silently absorbing my wrongdoings, not even bothering to jot notes on his pad. I didn’t know if it was a good thing or bad thing but either way, I’d done it, and it was the next step in regaining control of the tailspin of my life.

“Was Charlie aware of your business the whole time?” he asked once I’d taken a huge breath and stopped talking.

“No,” I said, resting my chin in my hands. I didn’t want to lie to him, but there was no way in hell I’d do anything to mar her reputation. She understood the system way more than Thomas did, knew that sometimes cutting people off cold like the clinic did created more damage than good. “She found out this morning. Hence, her deciding not to be my sponsor anymore.” Saying it out loud was like dragging razors across my skin. Knowing she wouldn’t be there when I felt myself slip was just like jumping off a cliff without a bungee or parachute.

Thomas sighed and leaned back in his chair. “And no one else knows?”

“Outside of my customers? No.” Conner did, but again, it wasn’t fucking relevant.

“We’ll have to find you a new sponsor.”

I raised my eyebrows, opening and closing my mouth several times, shocked he didn’t ask about my client list—which I wouldn’t have given up—or even asked how the drugs were being brought into the place.

“That’s it?”

“What do you want me to say, Justin?”

I threw my hands in the air. “You’re the doctor! I’m coming to you for help. I need genuine help,” I said, pressing my hands against my chest. “I have to get out of this before it’s more than me that gets hurt.” I thought about Blake, about the Hulk’s threat so close to being carried out this morning, then I thought about Charlie and how they knew where she lived. Even if Dash could keep Blake safe, and Charlie could hold her own with that gun, I couldn’t stand knowing there was even a need for either of it.

“You want my honest opinion?” he asked, coming around his desk to lean against it in front of me.

“Yes.” I crossed my arms over my chest.

“Keep it up.”

“What?” He might as well have sucker punched me.

“The risk is too great if you pull out now. You only have a few weeks left in the program. Ride them out, stay clean, get discharged.” He opened his door and motioned his arm for me to leave.

What the fuck?

“And then what?” I asked, completely at odds.

“You won’t have reason to be on site anymore. Surely they’ll move on to someone else.”

I shook my head. “I figured you would’ve suggested making a deal with the D.A. or something.” I hovered in his doorway.

“That would incriminate yourself. Would you really want to do that when you’re so close to achieving and maintaining sobriety?”

That wasn’t news to me but if it meant keeping the girls safe I was more than willing to do it. “You’re sure? That I should just…keep it up?” I used his words, unable to wrap my mind around the notion. I didn’t want to do the job anymore, and more so, I knew they wouldn’t leave me alone once I was out. Even if I wasn’t allowed on site anymore, whoever took my new role as sponsor surely would be. I could still be used as a connection. The threats would remain in place regardless if I left or not.

How could Thomas not see that?

“I’m proud of you for coming to me with this, Justin. It means you’re ready for step eleven. And soon, you’ll be ready to face reality.” He clapped his hand on my back as I left his office.

My stomach churned with acid, worry wrenching me into a barely coherent mess as I made my way back to my room. Maybe Thomas wasn’t the one I should’ve went to for help. For all the advice he offered he hadn’t really told me shit. The situation made something heavy sink in my gut and settle there for the night. I was really, truly on my own in this.

And if I was all I had, then perhaps that was the solution to my problem.

By the time Conner pounded on my door, well after lights out, I had everything planned and with that, a calm sense of peace settled over me. This was the best course of action, and it would not only solve the Devlin issue, but I’d pay for my part in it as well—just as I deserved.

“What’s up?” I asked Conner as I opened my door and he stormed into my room.

He flicked on the lamp that sat on the table next to my bed.

“Were you asleep?” he asked, his motions frantic as he raked his hands through his hair.

“No, man.” I’d been daydreaming about the future like a school girl. Thinking about what would happen once I’d served my time, thinking about how I’d track down Charlie and try to start fresh. “Are you all right?”

He paced the length of my room. “No. I need something, man. Really fucking bad.”

The floor tilted beneath me, my chest tightening as I stepped closer to him. “Come again?”

“Fuck, man! I need whatever you’ve got. I’m not picky. I just…I can’t fucking stand it in here another second. This cold turkey bullshit. Everything hurts, Justin. Like my blood is poison.” He gripped at his chest. “I want to rip everything out because it’s all on fire.”

“Conner.” I grabbed his shoulders to stop him from pacing. “You don’t need that shit. You’re stronger than it. You just need to calm down, bro.”

He cut his eyes to me and in that instant I didn’t recognize the guy I’d befriended on my first day here—this was the junkie I’d never met and always wondered about.

“Did something happen with your brother…Connell?” I asked, pulling his name from a conversation weeks ago.

“Yeah,” he said, the breath leaving him as his shoulders drooped underneath my hands. He sank down on my bed, his head in his hands. “You know how you hated mirrors forever?”

I nodded.

“Well, he’s my fucking mirror. Every disappointment, every piece of hurt I’ve ever caused, all my darkness…it’s written over every inch of his face.” His eyes glittered in the lamplight and I pretended like I didn’t notice. “I wanted to do better for him this time. You know? I really did…but I’m not as strong as him. Never have been.” He bolted upright, digging in his pockets. “I’ve got plenty of money, Justin. Please.” He tried to shove a thick wad of bills in my hands, but I pushed it away.

“I don’t have anything for you,” I said, knowing I couldn’t sell him any of the pills I had hidden in my room. “I’m cleaned out.” I lied, again. Fuck I was really hating having to lie to the people I’d come to call friends lately.

He took the cash, staring at it before shoving it back in his pocket. “You’re out, huh?”

I shrugged. “You don’t need it anyway, Conner. You are stronger than your brother.”

“You don’t even know him.”

“I know that I sure as hell wouldn’t be here as many times as you have, bro. You know how strong that makes you? To continuously recognize your need for help and seek it? Ask for it? You’re better than him, and me…you have no idea. If I fuck up on the outside, I’m not coming back here. I’ll check out. I know it. I don’t have your strength.” I clutched his shoulder forcing him to look me in the eye. “So, just take a breath. Get some sleep. Crank one out if you have to, man, just do whatever it takes to relax. You’ll move past this. You will. And this time…it will stick.”

Conner nodded, keeping his eyes trained on the floor. “Right. Yeah…Connell, he just threw me. I’ll sleep it off.” He pushed past me, opening my door before pausing with his hand on the knob. “Thanks, Justin. You’ve been a really good friend.”

I pinched my eyebrows together, wondering if my pep talk had opened up a softer side of him. “Do we need to hug this shit out, bro?” I chuckled and breathed a little easier when Conner cracked a smirk.

“Not tonight. I’m still rooting for you and Charlie.” He pressed his lips together and closed the door behind him.

The sense of calm I’d achieved after my brilliant plan evaporated with the tension Conner had left in my room. I burned the energy by gathering all the drugs I had on hand and shoved them under my pillow. I’d need them close in case he decided to come in while I was sleeping—I could sleep through a tornado, as Blake used to say—and while I didn’t think Conner would try and rob me, I knew the junkie version of himself would.

I sank onto my bed, laying on the non-lumped side of my pillow, begging for sleep. Tomorrow was a new day, a huge day—the reason I didn’t simply flush my stash—because I would need every last pill I had to present as evidence.

11

Knowledge of will and the power to carry it out

Raised voices woke me before my already too-early-set alarm. Dawn had barely broken through the cheap blinds in my room, and I slammed my palms into my eyes to clear the sleep away.

What the hell was going on that people needed to be running up and down the halls?

“He’s fading!” An orderly yelled from right next door, the first clear words I’d heard, and my fucking heart stopped, an icy cold fist around it.

I knew without knowing, and my blood ran cold.

Somehow, without realizing it, I jolted out of bed and practically teleported to the room next to mine. Conner’s room. I shoved past a frantic orderly running down the hall with her cell pressed to her ear, only to stumble into the room where another one did CPR on Conner who lied limp on the floor.

“Why is his skin so white?” Was that shriek from me? Had I spoken out loud? The orderly jumped at my presence so I must have.

I dropped to my knees, grabbing his hand, nearly retching at how cold it felt in mine. A pool of white, frothy vomit pooled underneath his head, his eyes unmoving and lolled to the left underneath half-closed lids.

“No! Fuck, Conner.” I shoved at the orderly who had stopped working over him. “Do something you asshole!”

He shook his head. “He’s gone.”

The emotionless words set my nerves on edge, and I glared at him for only a moment before locking my hands and working on Conner myself. “He is not!” I pressed in the center of his chest, pumping thirty times before blowing air into his mouth. “Come on, man!” I pumped again, begging whatever God existed to spare him. To shock the life back in him, make me strong enough to bring him back.

I worked, and pumped, and breathed, and fucking bawled as if my own flesh and blood was on the floor—fuck he was.

It took three orderlies and twenty minutes to pull me off of him, to make me realize he was gone before I’d even started. They locked me in my room, something they’d never felt the need to do before—a luxury I had taken for granted—then they left me to watch out of the block of glass that acted as a window through the door. Watch as they wheeled Conner’s body out on a stretcher, covered in black.

I threw up in the small trash can I had in my room, mostly stomach acid that burned all the way up.

“Fuck!” I screamed, wiping my mouth with the back of my arm.

I paced back and forth, each step working up a level of violent rage I hadn’t ever felt before.

Where the fuck did he get the drugs?

My stash was securely underneath my pillow where I’d slept on top of it.

A bolt of lightning hit me square in the head, and I sank to the floor.

“You fucking idiot,” I said to myself.

Of course, I wasn’t the only one…why had I been so arrogant to think that Devlin wouldn’t have other people in place? This facility was the biggest in Oklahoma with an endless stream of new penitential clients. But who was it?

Pieces of a puzzle—the sinking weight I’d felt last night settle in my gut—came together in a way I didn’t understand, answered questions I didn’t realize had plagued me until now.

Questions like how Devlin’s brother had known where to find me at Charlie’s, and how out of all the advice he could’ve offered, he told me to fucking keep at it when I said I wanted to get out.

“Does anyone else know?” he’d asked.

No. I shook my head, pinching the bridge of my nose. It couldn’t be Thomas. He was a doctor. He knew everything about everyone…their weaknesses, their dark pasts, their hopes for getting out. He’d pushed me toward getting better. He couldn’t be a part of this.

“They’ll move on to someone else.” How had I not realized how familiar he’d sounded when speaking about them. People he shouldn’t know. And how calm he’d been.

Fuck. I clenched my hand into a fist and pounded it against the wall, taking out my aggression, my grief, and my guilt with each crack of my knuckles against the concrete.

Could I have prevented this? I asked no one in particular but thought of Conner, who had stood in the same spot I did now, not ten hours ago, alive and well. Now he was gone, and I’d never know.

The wall was tainted pink with my blood by the time I gathered myself enough to make a phone call. I walked to the community phone banks, dialing the number from a card I swore I’d never use. I’d already planned on making this call last night but not with this much information. I had to be certain, first, but I’d put the plan into action before another second slipped through my fingers.

* * *

“Emergency session,” I said outside of Thomas’ opened doorway. He nodded, a look of phony-sympathy crossed over his face. Had he always looked that fake? Or could I just see clearer now?

I stomped into the gym, him on my heels, and silently we strapped on the gloves. Stepping into the ring was like hitting a live wire inside me, sparking my rage I could barely contain. If I was right, this man was responsible for Conner’s death—partly. I knew half the demon was his addiction but fuck me the one place he should’ve been safe had killed him.

“I was deeply troubled to hear about Conner,” Thomas said, raising his hands. “He was doing so well.”

“Really?” I asked, darting out a jab I knew wouldn’t connect. I needed to put on a good show, and tearing his head off like I wanted to wouldn’t do me any favors with the people who were watching.

“What are you feeling right now, Justin?”

I glared at him.

“Are we back to where I have to hit you for answers?” He sighed. “Fine. Have it your way.” He lashed out, a strong right hook tapping my jaw. I relished the pain and delivered my own jab to his side, as close as he was. The air whooshed out of his lungs, and he stumbled back two steps.

“I’m feeling, angry,” I said, drawing out the word.

“Understandable. You two were close.”

“More than you realize.” I darted out again, connecting a medium-strength hit to his left cheek. “How are you feeling, doc?”

He puckered his brow. “Sad, of course.”

We danced around each other, and I rocketed a hook across his jaw. “Really? Not feeling guilty?”

“As his therapist, I do take some blame in not seeing all the signs of his struggle, yes, but he hid them very well.”

I shook my head, seething. I made a circle with my gloved hand. “Absolute truths only in the ring remember, doc? You’re breaking the rules, but I guess that isn’t new for you, is it?”

He dropped his hands. “What are you implying?”

“You know what.”

Something dark flashed behind his eyes and for the first time since I walked into the clinic, I saw him for what he really was. “You’re very convincing. I’ll give you that,” I said, circling him. “The whole Mr. Rodgers get-up and the beyond perfect position…close contact with each patient, learning their weaknesses right before you exploit it.”

He slit his eyes at me.

“Tell me something, do you do it for the money or for the power of knowing you’re hand feeding something to people who aren’t in a position to turn you down?”

“Oh, Justin.” He sighed, taking off his gloves and letting them drop to the mat. “I really wish you would’ve just done your job. You would’ve gotten out then and had the chance at a real life. Now? Well, I’m afraid those bad reports will come in…you deciding to act out during your last two weeks here. It’s a natural stage in the process, regression so close to the finish line.” He took a step closer to me. “You alone can decide this outcome, now. I can either recommend further treatment here, with me, where you’ll continue to sell, only now you’ll be giving me a percentage as well as Devlin, or, I can recommend harsher punishment, and you can deal with him—and your failure—directly.”

I nodded. “So it comes down to money.” Before he could breathe, I slammed on top of him, pinning him to the mat and smashing his head against it. “Conner is dead because of you!”

He jerked his knee up, hitting me square in the nuts so hard I thought I’d puke a ball up. I toppled over, slamming against the mat as I instinctively cradled my junk. Thomas stood over me, spitting out a mouthful of blood right next to my face.

“Conner is dead because he couldn’t maintain control. He assured me he could handle the dosage I sold him. It’s not my fault he was a weak, pathetic junkie.”

I flung my arm out, cutting his legs out from underneath him. The mat trembled as his back smacked against it.

“Enough!” A female voice boomed through the room, and if I hadn’t felt like my balls had been struck by lightning, I would’ve fucking danced at the shade of white Thomas turned.

“Ring of truth is a bit tainted today, doc,” I said, pushing to my feet with a wince.

The D.A. walked to the ring’s side, four uniform cops flanking her back. “Take Mr. Newfold into custody.” And with a flick of her wrist, the cops descended upon the ring, cuffing Thomas and carting him toward the door.

“He’ll kill you for this, you know!” He shouted over his shoulder as they pushed him through the doors.

I tossed my gloves aside and hopped out of the ring, standing by the D.A.

“That was quite the performance, Mr. Hobbs,” she said, eyeing me.

“You had to know.” I sucked in a breath and held out my wrists. “And now you know everything. About me, Devlin, his goons, his operation, and Thomas.”

She nodded. “There is more than enough evidence to lock you all away for a great deal of time.”

“Good,” I said, knowing I had thrown myself in with the lot but not caring. This was the plan. This was the only solution. The only way to keep the girls safe and stop the cycle that had caused this clinic too much grief.

“You look too happy to go to prison,” she said, tilting her head.

“It’s done. The bad guys won’t hurt anyone I care about or anyone in here trying to get clean. It’s a good day.”

“I’m still curious as to how you managed to hide that amount of drugs in your room, not to mention bring in weekly deliveries without anyone, or any of the cameras catching on.”

“It wasn’t easy, but there are plenty of weak spots in the system. I merely took advantage of those. I’ll show them all to you. If you’d like.”

She raised her chin to me, her black hair tumbling down her shoulders. “I would like that very much, Mr. Hobbs. Follow me.” She glanced down at my outstretched wrists and shook her head at the lone cop who stood behind her.

I dropped my hands and let them hang loose at my sides as I followed her out of the gym, savoring the feel of the last few minutes of true freedom I had left, and hoping somewhere, Conner was laughing at the irony of me becoming the hero in our story.

12

Awakening

“No shit?” I blurted out the question before I could stop myself.

The D.A. chuckled and darted her eyes to Mr. Greenbow—of Greenbow Resort Rehabilitation Clinic.

“No shit,” the old man who reminded me of the Dude said. “I think it’s a fair deal, don’t you?”

I shook my head, my mouth gaping open like a fish on land. “Absolutely.”

“So you’re interested in the job then?” The D.A. asked. “You do understand that not only will you answer to Mr. Greenbow? You’ll also check in with me if you have any future findings worth discussing?”

I nodded. “Yes, Ma’am.”

“Good,” she said. “I think you’re exactly what this place needs.”

“I agree,” said Mr. Greenbow, leaning against the desk in his massive office on the top floor of the facility. “I had no idea there were such massive inconsistencies in our program, and I take full responsibility for Dr. Newfold.” He shook his head. “I’ve known him since he was a patient here. Before he got clean and got his Ph.D. I never once suspected…” he shoved off his desk and crossed his arms as he gazed out his floor to ceiling window overlooking the grounds. “Setting the weaknesses aside, Justin, I’d want you to act as kind of an in-house sponsor as well. Work closely with those who don’t have anyone assigned to them yet.”

“All right,” I said, unable to deny the man anything.

His offer of a position had saved me at least six years in prison. Six years I wouldn’t be able to speak to Charlie face to face, because even if she did find it in her heart to forgive me, I wouldn’t let her anywhere near that place. He saved me without knowing me, and that simple act made me understand why he ran this place…why his clinic was known all over the U.S. This man, he was a decent and genuinely good human being, the definition of hope. And that is what people like me—people who teetered on the edge of darkness—needed to come back to the light.

“I’ll leave you two to it then,” The D.A. said, shaking my hand and pulling me out of myself. “You did good, Justin. Stay clean, will you? I’d hate to feel like an asshole over setting this up.”

I laughed. “Deal. And, Devlin? His crew?”

“All apprehended and accounted for. They won’t see the light of day for at least twenty years, not with the backlog of records they have. The guards under Devlin’s payroll have been arrested too. You were the key to bringing down two inside operations, which is one of the reasons why I’ve gone out on a limb for you. Please don’t make me regret it.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I said as she walked out of the door.

Mr. Greenbow sank back into his chair, a heavy sigh on his lips.

“Sir?”

“Yes?”

“I know I’m not in the position to ask for anything, but I can’t keep this to myself.”

“All right, son, out with it.”

“Does my working here, for the facility…will I be prohibited from being romantic with another employee?”

His salt and pepper eyebrows rose on his head. “If it did would you turn the offer down?”

I shifted my weight, the idea of working so close to Charlie—free from the sponsor professional line between us—and not even having the chance to be with her made my chest ache.

“Wow,” he said before I could answer. “You must really be in love with her.”

I gave him one firm nod. “I am. She was my sponsor”

He hissed through his teeth.

“But no longer. Thomas was reassigning me one before…”

“Right.” He rubbed his palms over his face. “We’ll work on that. And no, son, I’m not going to tell you who you can and can’t love…just, keep it off the property, yeah? Or at least, not where anyone can walk in on you?”

I chuckled. “Of course.”

“Now, besides my weakness in security and apparently, judging certain characters, what do you think my clinic needs?”

I walked to his window, gazing out over the massive grounds which had never seemed so exciting as they did now with this new freedom and outlook on my heart. I glanced over my shoulder at him, cocking an eyebrow.

“More jet skis.”

* * *

Conner’s funeral was small in numbers—his mother, brother, and a few distant relatives had shown up in black, same as me.

I shook his brother’s hand without saying anything, reading the grief and pain in his eyes as easily as I would’ve Conner’s. They were the same shade of hazel, though Connell’s black hair half covered them. I honestly didn’t know what to say to the man, even if I had the nerve to speak. He’d seen Conner the day he died, just as I had, and neither one of us had been able to save him. That kind of shit ate away at you, if you let it but knowing I put the man who supplied the weapon that killed him behind bars, I was able to push past the blame and merely feel the hurt.

And it did hurt. Like hell. It was as though I was burying my own brother, and in a way I was. Conner had meant more to me than any friend I ever had, and now, well, no one would ever replace him.

The empty chair next to me filled with the scent of strawberries and my heart skipped a beat. I dared a glance to the right, my body sighing at the sight of her.

Black leggings, long black top, and midnight-blue hair.

“Charlie,” I whispered.

“I’m so sorry I couldn’t see you sooner,” she said, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. “That day…I’d went to stay with my sister. I couldn’t go back to the house after…” she sighed. “She lives in Kansas. I got back as soon as I could.”

“It’s okay,” I said. “I’m just glad you’re here now.” Every piece of my soul screamed out to touch her but I remained still. I had betrayed her and she owed me nothing.

“What happened after?” She asked as the preacher took the podium next to Conner’s opened casket. I disagreed with the choice of suit his mother had picked out, only because he’d told me once he’d like to die in his ACDC shirt. The memory made me smile and ache all at the same time.

“I’ll tell you everything after…”

She nodded, and we hushed into silence as the preacher started to read from Roman’s.

I’d never lost anyone before. No one I’d loved had ever stuck around long enough—besides Blake—for me to lose. This was a new sensation, the loss, the disbelief that he was really gone despite seeing him lowered into the ground, knowing I couldn’t tell him what happened next even though my brain kept telling me too.

When it was our turn, Charlie stood next to me as we paid our respects to Conner. I wanted to place in his hand the fresh pack of smokes I’d purchased before the ceremony, but I didn’t think anyone outside of us would understand. I hoped the thought alone would be enough to make him laugh at me paying him back way too late for all the ones I’d bummed.

Charlie and I walked to the car after he was buried, a weight on both our shoulders.

“You still want to know?” I finally asked as she leaned against her driver’s side door.

“Yes.”

So I told her everything, about Thomas, about the D.A., about finding Conner and not being able to do a damn thing about it.

Tears rolled down her cheeks, but she swiped them away. “I wish I would’ve known. Maybe I could’ve stopped Thomas earlier if I could’ve read him like I read you.”

I shook my head. “You can’t play that game, trust me. The blame, the guilt, just…don’t. If there was something we could’ve done, we would have.”

She nodded. “And you really were prepared to go to prison? To keep me…keep us safe?”

“In a heartbeat. I’d do anything for you, Charlie. I may have lied about getting out the first time, but telling you I loved you?” I stepped closer to her. “That was the truest thing I’ve ever said in my life.” I reached out and barely grazed my fingers over her cheek, sighing when she didn’t flinch from my touch. “I know I’m still on the edge of recovery. I know I have eons to go before I’m sorted out…if I ever will be, but…do you think we could start over? Live in a world where because you’re not my sponsor anymore we get a reset?”

She licked her perfectly pink lips and smiled, igniting a wicked rhythm in my heart. “Yeah.” She chuckled. “I think out of all the fucked and twisted things in my world, you’re the one thing I want to hold on to.”

I cocked an eyebrow at her. “Are you saying I’m fucked and twisted?”

She nodded, a mischievous glint underneath the tears in her eyes. She leaned into my hand, and I gently pulled her to me, claiming her mouth in a soft kiss that quickly turned starved. I breathed in her scent, devoured the sweet taste of her tongue, and relished every single one of her gasps. I kissed her like I’d never get to again but prayed I’d get to each day for the rest of forever.

Jerking out of my kiss she gripped the sides of my jacket. “One condition,” she said, her eyes slits.

“Anything.”

“You ever think about lying to me again?” She bit my bottom lip so hard she broke skin. “I’ll pull out my little pink gun and shoot you in the ass.”

I laughed, wrapping my arms around her hips to hoist her up to my eye level. “Promise to wear the kimono while you do it?”

She lightly smacked my chest. “Asshole.”

I crushed my lips against hers, stealing her breath like it was the only oxygen I’d ever get again. “Yeah,” I said, looking into her hooded green eyes. “But you love me anyway, don’t you? Broken pieces and all?”

My heart stalled as I waited for her answer, needing to know if I was the only one crazy enough to have fallen.

“Everything I’ve ever loved has been jagged. No wonder I fell for you.”

I claimed her mouth again, gripping her to me so hard I could feel every soft plane of her body. She was everything I never knew I wanted, and more than what I needed. I’d thought addiction was a force to be reckoned with, but nothing could compare to the way Charlie made me feel.

She loved me, unbelievably, for exactly who I was, and yet, I wanted to be so much more for her. The perfect combination of sexy and dangerous and crazy and calming, the woman had me pegged the second she met me.

I never stood a chance at a normal life, at a good life…

Until she came into my world and woke me the fuck up.

Epilogue

“Hi, my name is Justin. I’m an alcoholic but have been clean for six months now.”

A slow succession of claps circled the group surrounding me—some new faces and some old.

I shifted the clipboard in my lap that listed each of their names. “Every day is a fight against the cravings that hold me like a choker collar, but I push through because there are wonderful things, beautiful things, worth fighting for.” The image of Charlie filled my mind, freshly showered and wrapped in nothing but a towel in the house we’d just closed on a week ago. We’d had to buy it in a rush…we needed the room.

“I’m going to be a father, a husband. That’s what keeps me from the bottle, but it doesn’t have to be that big.” I couldn’t contain the smile that spread across my lips every time I said father. She was only two months in and it was a fucking surprise but what hadn’t been in our lives? “A friendship, a pet, a fucking favorite TV show…damn, anything that makes you feel something other than the craving…that’s what you hold on to.”

I made eye contact with each person, noting the ones who looked exactly like I had when I first started the program—pissed off and bored. It was hard not to think about how when I’d been in their seats, Thomas had been in mine. The hate had dulled over time, but it was still there, right alongside every other emotion I had to keep in check. I’d been learning more and more—during my night courses toward earning my counselor’s certification—about the trouble I had when it came to filtering them, containing them, working through them. Especially when it came to anger, though that had cooled the longer I’d been sober, and, the longer I’d been with Charlie.

I’d never seen myself in this life—running a group session, offering personal ones, being a sponsor, traveling to other rehab clinics to help them find the loopholes dealers used to get drugs inside their facilities—and I’m fucking glad I never did. If it had been a goal of mine, it would never had happened. That is just how I operated. I needed the push, the pain, and every single instance of hurt in my life had led me to this spot, and I knew it was where I was meant to be. I had a kind of happiness I didn’t know exist, even my aunt and I had formed a relationship over the past six months—my gratitude over her choice in rehab facility, over her ultimatum that inadvertently led me to Charlie, overwhelmed my heart. There would never be enough ways to thank her for that alone, and we were working out all the other shit as we went along.

Being able to look back on the darkness in my past and not cringe but rather use it to help other people in similar situations was the best possible way I knew to atone for it. And I did, every single day. And who could’ve fucking guessed I’d be happy to come to work?

“So,” I said, setting the clipboard on the floor and folding my hands together. “Anyone want to share their story?”

Acknowledgments

You always come first, dear reader. Thank you for opening this book and for taking a chance on a villain’s story.

For this particular story I would like to do something a little different in this section. I am blessed with an amazing crew of people who always help me through the writing process, and normally I would thank them here, but you know who you are and how much I adore each of you. Instead I would like to list below some places you can seek help if you or anyone you know is struggling with addiction. It effects everyone, not simply those who are addicted. Having access to ready resources can make all the difference.

Alcoholics Anonymous http://www.aa.org/

Drug Addicts Anonymous http://www.daausa.org/

Addiction to Sobriety https://addictiontosobriety.com/

About the Author

Molly E. Lee is an author best known for her debut novel EDGE OF CHAOS. She writes New Adult Contemporary featuring strong female heroines who are unafraid to challenge their male counterparts, yet still vulnerable enough to have love sneak up on them. In addition to being a military spouse and mother of two + one stubborn English Bulldog, Molly loves watching storms from her back porch at her Midwest home, and digging for treasures in antique stores.

Read the first book in the Love on the Edge series here.

For exclusive scenes and sneak peeks at the upcoming books in the Love on the Edge series join Molly's mailing list. Or visit her website www.mollyelee.com