Page 19 of The Darkness Within

His partner?—Boyfriend?—speaks next. “Yeah, so I haven’t really focused much on myself this week because I’ve been worried about Brandt. I’m not really worried that he’ll lose his hearing because it doesn’t matter to me either way. I know he’ll be fine. Just another bump we’ve got to roll over. I’m just worried that he’ll get down and lose hope, and that I won’t be strong enough to carry him through it like he does for me on my darkest days.” He gives a self-deprecating laugh. “Yeah, so somehow I’ve managed to make this all about me instead of Brandt. Because I’m a selfish bastard.”

“No, you’re not,” Brandt insists, taking his hand again. “We’re in this together, forever.” He brushes his thumb over the ring covering Brandt’s finger. “Three legs. I won’t let you fall.”

“I know you won’t. We’re a tripod.”

I don’t know what all that shit means, but it’s clearly affecting both of them as they wipe fresh tears from their eyes.

“Mandy? Would you like to go next?” Riggs asks.

He breathes out a heavy sigh, resting his hands on his knees, and leans forward. “It’s been a tough week. Brewer keeps telling me to be of service, to get out of my own head, out of my own way, and focus on others. That’s the best way I can help myself, and I believe he knows what he’s talking about, but all week I’ve been trying to be of service, to help others, and all it’s doing is opening the door for my demons to come back and haunt me, and I’m fucking exhausted and scared and, yeah,“ he sighs again, “I’ve had enough.”

Is he talking about me? Is my bullshit making his life harder? When he looks sideways at me and swallows guiltily, I know he’s talking about me, and I feel his guilt and a good dose of my own flood the hole in my chest where my heart used to be.

Do I have to ruin everything I touch? Everyone I come in contact with, do I make their lives worse?

“I’m not gonna give up. I have faith in Brewer and in myself. I’m stronger than my demons. I’m stronger than my insecurities. I’m going to push through and come out the other side feeling better, and I’ll let you know when I get there.”

“You’re not alone, man,” the guys remind him. “We’re here for you, Mandy.”

Mandy lays his hand on my knee and squeezes, and I feel all eyes in the room drawn to me as the pressure in my chest tightens. It’s my turn, and I really don’t want to say a fucking word.

“Sommers? If you have something you’d like to share with the group, now is your chance. If you’d rather not speak this time, that’s fine, too. I just want you to know I’m really glad you’re here. I’ve been saving you that seat for a long time, and it fills my heart with joy to see you finally sitting in it. That seat is always going to have your name on it. You’re always going to have a place in the circle, so I hope you keep coming back.”

“Thanks, Riggs.” My voice barely sounds intelligible. “I think I’ll pass this week.”

And with that, they continue until the meeting comes to an end. Mandy lays his hand on my shoulder. “Come on, your sixty minutes are up. Let’s get you home, Cinderella, before you turn into a pumpkin.”

I follow him out the door and into the hall, almost running into his back when he stops short.

“Hey, Brewer.”

“Cahill, I’m so glad I ran into you. I haven’t heard from you since our session last week. It was a pretty heavy one and I’ve been worried about you.”

“I’m hanging in there. This is Sergeant Sommers. I dragged him with me to the meeting today.”

Stepping around Mandy, I stick my hand out automatically to shake the man’s hand, and, as my eyes follow, traveling up his torso to his face, I get stuck. Completely fucking stuck.

My tongue grows thick and dry in my mouth, making me stumble over my words like I have a stutter. “I’m N-Nash. Nashville S-Sommers. Um, Nashville Aiden Sommers, Sergeant Nas—”

He interrupts me with a chuckle, his smile genuine and beautiful. “I get it. Sergeant Nashville Aiden Sommers, but you go by Nash.” The twinkle in his amaretto-colored eyes makes them shine. “I’m Brewer Marx. It’s my pleasure to meet you, Sergeant.”

“Do you go here?”

“You could say that. I’m a therapist here. I specialize in addiction and trauma, and I run the addiction support group next door to the one you were just in.”

“A-Addiction support group?” Of course there has to be a flaw somewhere.

“Yep, anytime you want to come join us, you’re welcome. Even if you just want to sit in the very back with your head down, and just listen. And if you ever want to talk, one-on-one, my door is always open.”

I realize I’m still holding onto the man’s hand when he tries to retrieve it. I brush my thumb over his knuckles before letting him go. His skin is soft and warm and free of a ring, and the last thing I want to do is let go of him.

“One-on-one? I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Come on, Casanova. Let’s get going,” Mandy urges, tugging on my sleeve.

Yet my feet remain rooted in place. The longer I stare into his eyes, the more the gold flecks in his irises resemble shining stars.

Jesus fuck, I must really be high.

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