Page 119 of Offside Devil

“So you don’t trust yourself?”

“Of course I trust myself,” I snarl. “I got drunk one measly night because my ex died and left a kid on my doorstep and I had CPS breathing down my back and a nanny who drove me up the fucking wall. I needed a break, and I took it. But my captain got me out of there and I called my sponsor the next day. I figured out what I was looking for at the bottom of a bottle, and now, I know I’m not going to find it there. I won’t do that again. I don’t even want to. It was a one-time thing.”

I’m breathing heavily as I finish. For the first time in I-don’t-even-know-how-many minutes, I look up at Dr. Turner.

I laugh, even though none of this is funny. “Well, you won. You got me to talk.”

“I didn’t do anything,” she says. “That was all you.”

I run my hand down my jaw and scratch at my chin. “I guess that means I need therapy after all.”

“Actually, the fact that you opened up the way you did tells me that you’re doing fine on your own.” She smiles, but it’s genuine this time. Warm. “I can always recommend you to a therapist if you would like, but it seems to me that you’ve built a solid support system around yourself and Aiden.”

“You don’t think I’m going to relapse and ruin my kid?”

If she says I will, would I give him back? Would I hand Aiden over to Peter Morris and give up my parental rights?

The thought alone feels like a hot barb to the chest.

“As you said, this isn’t NA. I know some stats on addiction, but I’m no expert,” she says. “I know there’s always a chance of relapse. Addiction doesn’t have a cure, but it can be managed. From what I can see, you’re managing it well. You’ve evolved as a person and can own up to your mistakes. That’s key for anyone in recovery. It’s also key for being a parent.”

“Evolved as a person,” I breathe.

It sounds like therapy speak, but then again, I would have never walked into this meeting four years ago. I would have ignored the call and refused to show up.

The fact I’m here, even if skeptical, says something.

And sure, I don’t talk to my parents, but I still have a family. A family that has only grown stronger the last few weeks.

A family that now includes a four-year-old mini-me and a raven-haired nanny.

I didn’t think it was possible to ever get this addict-shaped monkey off my back, but maybe I can become a different man. Not just for Aiden’s or Mira’s sake.

But for my sake, too.

Maybe I don’t have to live the rest of my life wrestling with my demons.

Maybe—with a little help—I can beat them.

47

MIRA

I flop back on my bed and stare at the ceiling.

The ceiling at my old apartment had the decency to have a yellow water stain in the corner next to my closet. I always appreciated that. It gave me something to focus on while I laid on my bed and relived every mistake I’ve ever made in chronological order.

But Zane’s condo is too nice for that. The ceiling is stain-free.

“As blank and lifeless as my plans tonight,” I mumble.

I’m not completely pathetic. I had the option of plans. Zane poked his distractingly gorgeous head in an hour ago and asked if I wanted to grab dinner with him and Aiden.

Of course I do! Every night for the rest of our lives? Sign me up.

“No thanks,” I said instead. “I’m going to hide out in my room tonight. Quiet night in.”

“‘Quiet night in,’” I mutter, mocking past me for having the willpower to say no.

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