He stares at me, thinking silently, and finally says, “Don’t get too comfortable. Don’t think because you’ve been without alcohol you’re magically cured with time. You’re going to struggle all the time and there will be moments when the temptation to reach for a bottle threatens to overwhelm you. When that happens, don’t be afraid to ask. We’re here for you. We’re family.”
“Thank you,” I say, and I mean it.
I’m not naïve enough to think it won’t always be a struggle to stay away from alcohol, but with so much on the line … I don’t want to lose more than I already have. Hearing other people talk about their stories, the resounding ripple effect of their alcoholism on their significant others, friends, and family is a constant reminder to keep my shit straight.
“I’ll see you later.”
He pushes the button to close the trunk and lights up his cigarette, still watching me.
“Be careful,” he warns.
Be careful to stay away from alcohol.
Be careful of your decisions.
Be careful with your heart.
I tip my head at him and get behind the wheel of my truck and drive away.
It’s not exactly necessary for me to drive to my AA meeting, but I figure the last place I need to be when I leave the meeting is an empty hotel suite. If I have my truck, I can at least drive around and it’ll keep me from getting into trouble.
I arrive early and pour myself a cup of coffee—because I took it upon myself to make sure better coffee was provided. No one should have to sit through these meetings without a hot coffee.
“Good to see you.” Daniel claps a hand on my shoulder and I turn to him with a smile.
“You see me every week,” I remind him and he chuckles.
“Yes, and it’s still good to see you. I’m proud of your commitment.”
I dump a pile of creamer into the coffee and swirl the cup a bit to combine the creamer with the coffee.
“When you commit to something, you give it your all.”
He nods. “I like that saying.”
“It’s what my dad always used to tell me,” I exhale a sigh. “I don’t want to fail at something as important as this,” I confess to Daniel. “I want to make the change and never go back to who I was.”
Every day I feel more confident and sure of the path I’m on. I feel better, too. At the time I had no idea the way the alcohol was clouding my mind and all my decisions. It’s like I’m finally clearing a film from my eyes and seeing things as they truly are and not as the alcohol wanted me to believe.
“You’re well on your way there.”
He smiles before heading over to speak with Holly who has walked in.
I make my way to my seat, my heart beating an out of control rhythm inside my chest. It’s nothing like the steady beat of my drums. Today, I want to get up and talk about my story, about the addiction to alcohol that somehow happened without me even realizing it. I became dependent on a substance instead of myself and I was completely oblivious to the hold it had on me.
I feel jittery and I haven’t even taken a sip of coffee yet. Its warmth seeps through the Styrofoam and the liquid sloshes around, threatening to spill over as my knee bounces up and down restlessly.
For some reason, speaking up at the grief group wasn’t nearly as nerve wracking. I think it’s because I don’t feel ashamed of being sad over my parents’ deaths, but I do feel ashamed of being an alcoholic. There’s such a negative connotation with alcoholism, but for a lot of people it’s a coping mechanism, like for me.
I look around at the quickly filling room and lift the coffee to my lips. It burns my tongue, but I barely even feel it. My mind is elsewhere and not even pain can refocus me.
Much quicker than I’d like, everyone is seated and Daniel is speaking. Some meetings are different than others, where we all sit facing each other and speak about our thoughts and feelings, our dependence and the struggle, and others, like the first meeting I attended, he sets it up like this—an encouragement for people to stand on their own and speak what they need to. I think it’s done in an effort for people to prove to themselves they’re strong enough to face their demons.
Today, I’ll finally be facing mine.
I listen carefully to everyone who stands up and speaks, with each passing second knowing I’m going to have to soon be up there.
“We have time for one more,” Daniel announces, and I swear his eyes linger on me.
Before I can change my mind, or allow someone else to take my place so I can make an excuse to myself that I didn’t have a chance, I stand up and say, “Me.”
My voice is quiet. Probably quieter than it ever has been.
Heads turn my way and I wish I could fucking disappear.
But I think of the person I want to be.
Of Kira.
Our son.
And so I move my feet, one in front of the other, as Daniel motions me to the front.
I’ve gotten to know these people, to hear their stories, but I am still fearful standing in front of them. They’re the least likely people to judge me, but as harshly as I judge myself I can’t help thinking everyone else is doing the same.
Clearing my throat, I scrub my hand over the stubble on my jaw.
“Uh … hi, guys,” I begin awkwardly. “I’ve never been up here before and it’s … scary as fuck.”
They laugh a bit at that.
“I’ve been coming here since April now, listening to your stories, getting to know you and it’s helped me to realize I had placed such a stigma on what makes an alcoholic. It might be a label, but it doesn’t fit one type, most labels don’t.” I rock back on my heels, feeling awkward as hell. I thought I might feel better after I got up here, but that’s not the case.
“Being sober has been a strange experience, an enlightening one. I think I felt like because the majority of the time I only had a beer or two, I didn’t have a problem. But I did, because even when I didn’t drink much—I craved it. I needed it to get through things. Without it, I felt like I’d fail or I couldn’t let loose.” I pause, gathering myself. I’ve shared in AA about my parents and how it led to my drinking, so that’s nothing new but I haven’t truly explained how deeply their deaths scarred me. “When I lost my parents, it felt like I had nothing left to live for. I wanted nothing more than to join them. I thought about killing myself often, and when I drank … I felt light, free from those thoughts. When I was drunk, I became a whole new person, one who was wild and unchained. I partied hard and fucked harder, all while the alcohol burned its way through my system. It became my fuel, the thing controlling my body instead of … me.”
The words begin to pour out of me suddenly.
“I let other things control my life, because if I did … I’d have to face reality, that they were gone and not coming back, that my chance at playing basketball in college and going pro was wiped away, that my entire life plan was suddenly ripped away. I should’ve seen a therapist like everyone suggested, but I was stubborn, certain I could heal on my own, but I didn’t. The more time that has passed the harder it has become to change the man I turned into. But then…” Kira’s face enters my mind, her dark hair, round brown eyes, full lips, and that dimple in her chin she dislikes so much. “I fell in love when I swore I never would. But I guess you don’t necessarily choose to fall in love, do you?” I muse, looking away and fighting a smile. “It just happens—in the blink of an eye, the span of a heartbeat. Everything changes.”
I run my fingers through my hair, it’s a nervous gesture, but thankfully I don’t feel the nerves anymore. With each word and sentence that leaves my mouth I get a little lighter.
“Neither of us was looking for love, but I think she loves me too. Or … loved. I hurt her, and I hurt myself, with a disastrous decision. But I think if everything I’ve gone through with her hadn’t happened, I wouldn’t be here right now, standing in front of you all.” My lips twitch with a memory. “My mom used to tell me everythin
g happens for a reason and one day I would understand the meaning. I still haven’t figured out why they had to die, but I do know why things had to happen the way they did with Kira. We were both two incredibly broken people trying to make a whole, but when your broken pieces can’t even fix you, you can hardly mend someone else. I think we had to fall apart to have any chance of falling back together.” I clear my throat, my palms suddenly sweaty. “You see, I cheated on her. Kind of, I guess, but the way I grew up—what I did is considered cheating. Kira and I weren’t together, but my heart belonged to her. It has from the moment I met her, even though I didn’t know it then. Even when she broke my heart, those pieces were still hers, and what I did…” I shake my head. “I’ll never stop regretting it. I told her I loved her and when she said she couldn’t love me, my reaction was to get drunk for days on end and finally nearly fuck another woman. I can’t be that person anymore, not just because I want her forgiveness, but because I can’t stomach being the kind of man who treats the woman he loves like she’s nothing. I hate this feeling.”
I take another moment to think about what I want to say. I know the meeting is beginning to run long, but no one says anything. They all sit there, letting me speak and get this off my chest.
“I guess all I have to left to say is, I know this journey is only beginning, and I know it won’t be easy—but I’m putting everything I have into staying sober. I want to be proud of who I am, and I want my parents to look down on me with pride.”
“Well said.” Daniel claps his hands and the others join in.
I smile—a wide, full, happy smile not weighted down by grief or fear.
“You’ve come a long way in a few short months,” Daniel tells me, shaking my hand.
“And I hope to go a lot further.”
“You will.”
For the first time I believe things will be better, that my life can be good, and fulfilling.
I’m finally ready to embrace the future instead of living in the past.
47
Kira
It’s Sunday morning, the day after my baby shower, and I can’t wrap my head around all the stuff gifted to this baby.
I wipe away a tear, knowing how much these people care about me and the baby, when for the longest time I convinced myself I was unlovable.
The pile from Rush is the largest and includes some of the most needed things—like a crib, stroller, car seat, and so much more. The guys said Rush wanted them to claim the gifts and he didn’t want any credit, but they thought I should know.
I told them he could’ve come, but Cannon said Rush thought he wasn’t invited.
Silly, silly man. I don’t think anyone felt it was necessary to extend a formal invitation since he’s the father, but I guess considering the circumstances I can see why he’d assume otherwise.
It’s still early, the sun has only been up for around thirty minutes, but I text him anyway.
Me: Are you up?
I sit down on my couch with a bowl of cereal, waiting for his reply.
I’m on my second bite of cereal when the chime sounds.
Rush: Yup. I’m at the gym.
Me: Think you could come over after? I could use some help.
Rush: Yeah, of course.
I tuck my phone between the couch cushions where I can’t look at it. I haven’t laid eyes on him since that faithful night where he showed up drunk, confessing what he’d done.
I’ve missed him, but it’ll be strange seeing him again.
Finishing my cereal, I wash the bowl out in the sink, change out of my pajamas into clothes, and start to unbox some of the items I’ll need help putting together.
I read some of the directions in the hope I could possibly get started on some of these things, but there’s not a chance. It all sounds like it’s written in a foreign language.
My phone dings with a text message and I dig it out of the couch.
Rush: I’m outside.
Inhaling a breath to calm myself, I smooth my hands down the front of my t-shirt dress. I’m not a dress kind of girl at all, but it’s one of the most comfortable things I can wear these days.
I open the door, propping my hip against it and look down to see Rush coming up the stairs.
He stops a few stairs below me, so we’re eye level.
“Hi,” he says in that husky, too-sexy-for-his-own-good, voice of his.
“Hi,” I say back.
“I brought this for you.” He extends his arm with a Dairy Queen milkshake grasped in his hand. “If you don’t want it, it’s fine. It’s a chocolate malt, though.”
I take it from him and offer a small, awkward smile. “This is great, thank you.” Clearing my throat, I blurt, “I’m sorry you thought you weren’t invited to the baby shower. I didn’t think it was necessary to send a formal invitation, and for that I’m sorry. I should have anyway. I just … pregnancy brain, I guess.”
“It’s okay,” he murmurs, but I can still see the hurt in his eyes despite it. “I needed to go to AA anyway. It’s important I don’t miss a meeting.”
“O-Oh, of course. Thank you, though, for everything you sent the baby.”
He curses and shakes his head. “Those dickheads,” he grumbles, but he’s smiling anyway. “I told them not to tell you it was from me.”
I reach out and grab his hand. “I’m glad they did.”
He looks down where my hand touches his.
When he looks up, I say, “I’m learning human contact isn’t such a bad thing.”
He gives a small chuckle. “Not going to catch cooties anymore?”
I press my lips together, my eyes flickering away. “I don’t need to worry about cooties when I already caught feelings.”
Holding the door open wider I motion him inside.
He doesn’t remark on my confession, which I’m thankful for.
“If you’re going to buy the baby all these big things the least you can do is put them together,” I joke easily. “I have no chance of doing this on my own, but I’m an excellent helper.”
He cracks a grin and I can’t help but be taken aback by how different he looks. I was afraid to really look at him before, but now as I study him I see how much healthier and happier he looks. His skin has more color, even his blond hair seems brighter, and his eyes don’t have light purplish gray circles beneath them anymore. They’re all things I didn’t really notice, but now they seem glaringly obvious.
“I’m sure you are.” His voice is deep, his blue eyes steady.
I’ve never had the urge to wrap my arms around someone and hug them and never let go, but suddenly it overwhelms me.
“You look good,” I tell him. The words seem inadequate, but I mean them.
“I’m doing good,” he replies, his eyes glancing around my small apartment as if he’s seeing it for the first time. It’s no different than the last time he was here, only cluttered with boxes from the baby shower and with more kitchen supplies.
I take a tentative step toward him.
“Can I … can I hug you?” My voice shakes as I ask the question, but I can’t resist my desire to wrap my arms around him a second longer and then be enveloped by those same arms.
His eyes darken, his lips down turning, and I fear he’s going to tell me no.
If he does I’m not sure how I’ll feel.
“Any time, beautiful.”
He opens his arms and I wrap mine around his muscular torso. My belly doesn’t allow me to get all that close to him, but I hug him like I’ve never hugged anyone else before. He tightens his arms around me, burying his face into my hair and inhaling the scent of my shampoo.
“I’m so sorry, Kira,” he murmurs softly in a regret-filled voice. “I’ll never stop being sorry for what I’ve done.”
“I’m sorry too.” Tears leak out of my eyes, but I don’t move to brush them away because I’m not ready to let go of him yet. I’m afraid if I do, he’ll disappear and this all will have been a dream.
He
cups my face, tilting it up so I’m looking at him. I feel so small looking up at him like this. Somehow, in the time we’ve been apart I forgot how larger than life he is. He towers over me. I’m pretty sure he could shield my entire body with his.
“I’ve missed you, so much,” he tells me, his voice soft. “Just being around you. Seeing you smile and … exist.”
Exist.
That one word tells me so much about his own feelings. When you truly love someone, it’s enough to just be around them.
I reach up, touching my fingers to his smooth, freshly shaved jaw. “I forgive you, Rush. This time apart, therapy, just dealing with all my past shit has helped me move on and see things differently. Not only with you, but … all of it. And I want you to know I forgive you. Even if this never goes anywhere further with us, I want you to know that. And … I hope you can forgive me too. For being closed off, for lying when you said you loved me.” Tears spill down my cheeks. “I lied because the truth was scary and overwhelming. I lied to protect myself, but all I did was hurt both of us.”
“There’s nothing for me to forgive.” He wipes my tears away with his big thumbs. He presses his forehead to mine. “We’ve been two fucked up people, but I think we’re finally getting our shit straight.”
I crack a smile. “I think so, too.”
He takes a step away. “I don’t want to rush things with us.”
“Slow and steady wins the race?” I joke, cracking smile. I swipe a tissue out of a box and dry my cheeks.
“Something like that.”
I hate the space between us now, but I know he’s right.
I’ve been working on myself, and he’s been working on himself, but now it’s time for us to be sure we work together. Sometimes two people might love each other, but they’re better off apart—I hope that isn’t the case with us.
“What can I help you with?” he asks, getting right to business.
I stir the whipped cream into the malt shake. “I have everything laid out in piles already, with the directions.”
He takes a glance at all the piles that take up so much space I had to scoot my couch out of the way the best I could.
Wild Flame (The Wild: A Rock Star Romance Book 2) Page 36
