Copyright © 2019 Faith Ryan
Cover Design: Heather Bryant
Photo: Deposit Photos
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information and retrieval system without permission from the author or publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Chapter 1
Lennox
The blonde bimbo on her knees in front of me wasn’t cutting it. Whether I was too wasted to perform, or she just wasn’t all that good at sucking dick was anyone’s guess, but one thing was for damn sure, I wasn’t gonna come like this.
I push open the stall door, ready to tell her to get lost because it just ain’t happening when I lock eyes with the man who just walked into the men’s room at the Drunken Cat.
A surge of lust goes straight to my groin and I get my answer, blondie just isn’t good enough with that mouth of hers. But it suddenly doesn’t matter.
I shove one of my hands into her tangled locks and hold her steady for my thrusts, while I smooth the other along my chest to my left nipple and pull hard on the barbell there. That is all it takes, and with my gaze locked on the ice blue irises of a stranger, I come. Hard. Harder than I think I ever have.
“Thanks, baby.” I said half-heartedly to blondie without breaking eye contact with blue eyes. I shove my cock back into my jeans and head toward the exit before my zipper is all the way up.
Blue eyes widen at my approach and I’m tempted to give in to this sudden need to feel his mouth around me. His scruff against my thigh.
Jesus, what the fuck.
I’m not gay, but my cock doesn’t seem to care. I think I’ve had a little too much to drink tonight.
I shoulder past the stranger and perform a drunken swagger all the way back to my booth in the bar. Once I’m seated and the room isn’t spinning quite as much, I wave down Layla and order two more shots of Jack and another local draft.
“Hey Max, what is it the third time this week? You need to keep that kid on a leash.” Sheriff Callahan can be heard from the cell at the end of the hall. Deputy Thompson shoved me in here saying he didn’t want the smell too close to his desk. Ha! Joke’s on him, not one bit of my vomit landed on me. Pretty sure he’s going to have to burn his uniform though.
I snicker to myself, until I remember why I’m here. The accident wasn’t as bad as it could have been, and Lord only knows why, but it’s still a sobering thought. I’m still thinking about what happened, when I hear footsteps heading my way. I’m still buzzed from the copious amount of alcohol I consumed tonight, or last night, whatever, but I’m coming down after being at the station for a few hours and I am not looking forward to dealing with Max right now.
Don’t get me wrong, that man is my idol, but I can only take so many lectures on my behavior. The way my head is pounding promises talking will result in ice picks to my brain. I need to placate him and avoid a talking to.
“Caldwell.”
I glance up from where I am sprawled out on the small cot that comes standard in each cell. Squinting my eyes against the bright light from the hall, I look at Max. Disappointment is clear on his face and I regret I’m the one to put it there.
“Hey Max, listen I’m sorry. This won’t happen again, I swear.”
“That’s what you said last time, and the time before that, and time before that.”
I wince at his words because it’s the truth. I always promise not to do it again, but then the evening comes and I’m alone with my thoughts.
“I know, Max, but this time—“
“No. You’re out of chances Caldwell. If you want to stay on at the gym and continuing fighting, you’re going to have to prove yourself.”
“How?” I ask the question knowing I am not going to like the answer.
“AA. Six months. Court mandated. You’re lucky I have some pull with Judge Hodges, otherwise you’d be looking at a minimum of 2 years on top of your fines. Jesus, Lennox, what were you thinking? Drunk and disorderly is one thing, but a DUI involved accident.” He shakes his head, his chagrin clear as day. “Look, you’re a promising fighter, but that means nothing if you’re gonna piss your life away. Get sober and then we’ll talk.” Max turns and heads back out to the processing area.
“Hey wait… I thought you posted my bail?” God, please don’t leave me in here.
“I did. But you’re staying until you sober up. I’ll be back to take you to your first meeting at three o’clock this afternoon. I suggest you sleep it off.”
Fuck. I think I really fucked up this time.
Hours later I’m convinced sitting in a hard ass metal chair is the worst punishment imaginable. Second only to listening to this bunch of alcoholics spill their life story in the basement of a church. As if by having the meeting where the hypocritic Christians get on their knees and beg forgiveness every Sunday will somehow work magic on a bunch of losers the world forgot long before they reached legal drinking age.
Thank the Lord for small favors though, Max somehow managed to get my AA meetings in the next town over where everyone doesn’t know everyone else’s business. Of course, if they already knew my shitty life story, they wouldn’t keep pestering me to tell it to the circle every fucking five minutes.
“Lennox, are you ready to share with us?” Peter, who looks like he walked right out of bible school, asks me yet again.
“Nah, I’m good.” I get up and wander over to the coffee and pastries, buying time until someone else starts their sob story.
“Okay, next time then. I’ll see everyone on Wednesday. Lennox, can you stay just a few minutes longer, I want to introduce you to Tanner. He’ll be your sponsor.”
Sponsor, ha! More like my babysitter.
I consider leaving when Peter turns his back, but Max warned me this was my last chance when he dropped me here. “I mean it Caldwell, get sober or find another gym because you won’t be fighting in mine.”
“Sorry I couldn’t make the meeting Pete.” Tanner, at least I assume it’s Tanner, sends chills up my spine when he speaks. His voice is dark and decadent, like aged whiskey.
“No problem. How’s your momma doing today?”
“Good. Okay not good, but she’s not knocking on death’s door, so I’ll take it.”
“I’ll keep her in my prayers. Let me introduce you to Lennox. You’ll be sponsoring him for the next six months.”
My chance at escape, however futile, is lost forever. Taking a deep breath, I steel myself to meet yet another do-gooder who wants to change my bad boy ways. I turn toward Peter and the newcomer and slowly make my way to where they stand. I’m halfway to them before I look at Tanner’s face. Ice blue eyes stare back at me in recognition, but I can’t place him.
I offer my hand and introduce myself. That done, I head toward the exit to see if Max is here to give me a ride back.
“Lennox, aren’t you going to wait for Tanner?”
“What for? I’m not going to the bar, I don’t need a babysitter.” I tell Peter without breaking stride.
“Didn’t Max tell you?”
Since Max obviously didn’t tell me whatever it is, I can only assume it’s because I’m not going to like it. Pete confirms my suspicions.
“You’re in a s
ix-month alcohol rehabilitation program. AA meetings Monday, Wednesday and Friday every week, a sponsor to help you manage any struggles, and a stay at the Mountain View rehabilitation facility. Tanner isn’t just your new sponsor, he’ll be your roommate for the extent of your stay.”
Extent of my stay? Fuck you Pastor Pete, this isn’t a fucking vacation!
Tanner must sense my growing frustration because he waves me on saying, “Go ahead. I’ll be out in just a minute. I’ll take you to Mountain View and show you around.”
I slam out the door and into the parking lot pulling my cell from my pocket and dialing. I don’t let Max get any words out before I go off, my temper getting the better of me.
“I don’t need to stay in a fucking rehabilitation center with a bunch of alcoholics.”
“You do, and you will.” Max replies calmly, as if he expected this argument and is ready to present his case, so I try a different tactic.
“I don’t belong here. I’m not like them.”
“Oh, so you don’t drink way too much and cause problems for those who care about you? Face it, Caldwell, you’re an alcoholic and you can’t come back and fight for me and my gym until you are sober.”
Fucking hell.
He’s right.
Shut it.
You shut it, you’re the one having a silent conversation with yourself.
“Sorry Max. You’re right. It’s only six months, I can do this. I don’t want to lose my spot with you.”
“I don’t want to lose you either man. Not in the gym and not as a friend. I’m going to hang up now before Layla catches me and thinks I’ve got feelings or something.”
“Thanks, Max. I… just thanks.”
Chapter 2
Tanner
I stare after my new sponsee, the same man from last night, and know I’m fucked.
“Pete, I don’t know if I can be,” I wave a hand in the direction Lennox went, “his sponsor.”
“Sure, you can Tanner, I already assigned someone else to Mitchell, he won’t be a problem anymore. I’m sorry about everything, especially last night.”
I flinch at his words remembering the reason I was at the bar in the first place. I may have had spank bank material for months after watching Lennox come, but Mitchell ruined the night long before I locked eyes with the hot as fuck fighter.
Of course, I didn’t know who he was until a few moments ago. I mean I knew my sponsee was Lennox Caldwell, bad ass MMA fighter, but the sexy stranger from last night? I thought he was someone I would never see again.
I sigh. “Okay, I’ll do it. Just keep me up to date on Mitchell. He’s got serious issues. If his new sponsor needs help, call me.”
“I promise, Tanner. We’ll get him the help he needs. But for now, you focus on giving Lennox the help he needs. Max said he won’t be easy to deal with. So, you be sure to let me know if there’s any problems.”
“Alright Pete, I’ll see you Wednesday.”
I slap a friendly pat on the man’s back and head out to find Lennox.
When I get to the parking lot, I see Lennox pacing with his phone to his ear. I hang back until I see him pocket the cell, then make my way over.
“Sorry about not being at the meeting. Usually sponsors and sponsees are introduced before the first group session. They also know about the program they’re in.” I lift my brows and wait to see if he’ll give me anything about his situation.
He blows out a breath and huffs a laugh. “Well turns out the program I’m involuntarily in is a six month rehabilitation stint with an unwanted roommate. I don’t want to be here and don’t think I need to be, but someone who has some say over my MMA career thinks I do. So here I am. I assume it’s your job to make sure I pass this with flying colors. Don’t tap out on me.”
I roll my eyes at his asinine comments. “First of all, this isn’t a test you can pass. This is your life. Someone thinks you’ve done enough damage and need a reality check. And yeah, that’s my job. To make sure you get a reality check and it does what it should, saves your life. Now quit whining like a baby. We have to get back to the house before curfew and then we’ll discuss the rules.”
I turn and walk away, knowing he’ll follow because he doesn’t really have a choice. His muttered curses about curfews and rules, make me smile. He’s gonna be a pain in my ass for the next six months, but I think I’m going to like it.
I hit the unlock button on my key fob and the little chirp of the alarm disengaging brings an awed “whoa” out of Lennox.
I love my car and the reactions she brings. Betsy is a cherry red ’65 Shelby GT500, and she helped me through my own rehabilitation process. Rebuilding a car was never something I thought I would do considering I knew zilch about them, hell I don’t know much about cars even now, but my sponsor Gary owned a shop and whenever I felt the need for something stronger than sweet tea, he would drive us there and direct me on what to do.
Gary passed away last year, and I was surprised he left Betsy to me. He left a note saying: so, you won’t need that drink. It was the kindest thing anyone has done for me.
“This is your car? Nice, man.”
“Yep. Betsy is pretty amazing.”
I open the driver’s side door and motion for Lennox to get in the other side. Once we’re settled in, I hold off on turning the ignition, we have to talk about last night before things get awkward.
“Listen, about last night—“
“I’m sorry for being a jerk—wait, what? What about last night? You mean the accident. Don’t worry. No one was hurt, and I’ve sent an apology and compensation to the other driver already. Now I just need to get through this rehabilitation program, so I can get on with my career.”
“Uh, don’t you mean get on with your life?”
“My career is my life.”
Well shit. I start Betsy and acknowledge the two important things this conversation brought to light. One, Lennox Caldwell needs to live, like really live his life, and two, he doesn’t remember what happened in the men’s room at the Drunken Cat.
I can help him with the first as his sponsor. The second, well considering the rules it’s better he doesn’t remember. And if I find myself fantasizing I was the one on my knees for him, well no one needs to know.
He doesn’t say anything else as I pull out of the lot and drive the few miles to the program’s housing unit. I steal glances at him every few seconds and he seems to be preparing for war.
God, he really doesn’t want to be here does he?
“I promise, it’s not as bad as you’re imagining.”
“You mean there’s a fully stocked bar and I can come and go as I please?”
His sarcasm is cute, and I fight another smile as I answer.
“You know there isn’t going to be any alcohol at an alcoholic rehabilitation center, don’t act like an idiot. As for coming and going, you can leave, just be back before curfew.”
“Right, curfew. Why is there a curfew anyway? We’re not fucking children.”
“No? You sure act like one.”
I pull into a spot in front of the facility’s main house and turn to face him.
“I know it sucks having rules, but they’re there to help you. Besides there aren’t many. Follow them, go to meetings, and complete the sponsorship activities and you’ll pass with flying colors.”
Maybe I shouldn’t mock him, but the man is beginning to get on my nerves. And it has nothing to do with the fact he doesn’t remember me.
Yeah, right. You were hoping he’d use you like that bimbo, to hell with the rules.
I push out of the car a little more forceful than is necessary, pissed at my reactions to this insolent man. I hear him open the passenger door then the snick as it shuts.
“So, um, Tanner?”
He sounds hesitant and unsure of himself, something that isn’t him as far as I can tell. Not from our encounter in the bar bathroom and not from the moments since we saw each other in the church basement.
I stop a few feet from the door and turn back.
“Yes, Lennox?”
“Uh, thanks for the ride.”
Um, okay, not what I was expecting. “You’re welcome. Now come on, I’ll show you to our room and go over the rules.”
“Yeah, okay.”
He follows me into the house, and we go straight down the hall on the right and stop at the third door on the left. The rooms are numbered, and I point to the number ten nailed to the front of ours.
Once inside the room I close the door behind us and decided to give him the grand tour of the minuscule space.
“Yeah, so I’ve claimed the bed over by the window,” I gesture to the right. “That leaves you closer to the bathroom, which might come in handy further down the road, depending on how you deal withdrawal. And there’s the bathroom, pretty standard. Toilet, sink, tub and shower. The closet is here behind me and I’ll have to rearrange some things, but there’s plenty of room for whatever you have.”
I finish my rambling and meet his eyes, they are blue, but a deep cobalt compared to my light blue. And right now, they look perplexed.
“Um, I’m—I don’t—shit. I don’t have anything. I mean I do have things, but not here, with me. I didn’t know I was coming. Fuck. This is embarrassing.”
“Oh, hey, no worries. You can borrow something of mine for now. I’ll get you some sweats. Take a shower and wash away the day. We can go over the rules and have a full tour of the house when you’re done.”
I go to the closet and rifle through the shelves until I find something that might fit Lennox’s frame. I’m not small but I’m nowhere near as muscular as he is.
I toss the sweats and a T-shirt at him, then head toward the door.
“I’m gonna grab something to eat, you hungry?”
“Yeah, I could eat.”
“Cool. I’ll raid the kitchen. Enjoy your shower.”
I leave the room and once the door is closed between us, I lean my forehead against it and chastise myself.
Enjoy your shower.
Giving Up the Fight - Faith Ryan Page 1
