Page 45 of Bad & Bossy

“You’re not everyone else.”

Her cheeks heated. “Because we’ve had sex?”

“Because I care about you.”

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The plush rug beneath my feet did absolutely nothing to calm my racing mind. I didn’t know exactly when I’d gotten out of bed; one minute, I couldn’t sleep, the next, I was pacing. The moon hung low in the sky outside of my window, the metal surfaces on my balcony shining brightly in its reflection. Beyond that were the peaks, the stars, the tops of the trees, and the babbling brooks that would soon freeze over when the temperatures dropped. I swallowed.

I wanted a drink.

I was so close to eight months. So fucking close. I needed to remember that and I knew in my bones that I couldn’t jeopardize it. I’d removed every bit of alcohol from this place weeks ago. The kitchen alone hadn’t been enough. The wine cellar, full to the brim with aged fine wines, had been auctioned off locally with every cent of the proceeds going to recovery groups. I’d hired a team to sweep the house of any bottles I might have stashed in my drunken stupors. I’d removed temptation as much as I could.

And still, despite that, I craved.

Pressing my forehead to the glass doors of the balcony, I tried to concentrate on my breathing. More than anything, I needed someone to talk to, but it was nearing ten in the evening and I felt awful bothering anyone at this time.

Bobby should be awake, though.

It was like I blinked and then I was in front of his door, a deafening silence bleeding out from beneath it.

I tried not to panic at the loss of time. It was something I’d experienced a lot while I was drinking and more so when I’d first started to get sober. I’d go through the halls of rehab and end up in places I didn’t remember getting to. But it had been months since the last time it had happened.

I knocked on Bobby’s door and got nothing in reply. Hesitantly, I pushed it open and switched on the light.

The room was a fucking mess. Diet Coke cans littered the floor along with boxes of takeout and half-eaten bags of chips. Clothes were everywhere. And the bed, unmade and dirty, was empty.

I was happy he had a social life. But my god he needed to clean this up before he gave my house a rat problem.

I blinked again and I was in the kitchen, my phone ringing against my ear. I jumped at the realization that time had slipped again, and when I glanced down, my hands were shaking.

“Hello?”

Oh, thank fuck, I called my sponsor. “Em,” I said, the single syllable of her name cracking.

“Craving?”

“Yes,” I breathed. I wrapped my fingers around the handle of a drawer to steady them, my knuckles immediately turning white. “I’ve had water. I’ve tried sleeping, walking, watching TV. It won’t go away.”

“That’s okay, Cole. It happens,” Emily sighed. “Have you done the grounding techniques you’ve learned?”

“Yeah. And deep breathing. And changing my environment.” Instinctually, I pulled open the drawer, barely paying attention to the keys I clasped in my hand. “I think a drive might help.”

“Maybe try a walk outside instead?” Emily offered, her voice suddenly a bit more alert.

“There’s bears out here near me.”

“Do you not have a fence?”

“I do but you know damn well they can climb,” I chuckled, the tension in my body slowly starting to calm. “Honestly, just talking to someone is already making me feel better.”

“Good. I’m glad.”

“Do you get calls like this often?” I asked, and suddenly I was moving without realizing it.

I was at my front door before I knew it, slippers on and a light jacket around my shoulders. Emily was babbling on about some TV show she’d watched recently that she thought might be enough to distract me.

I blinked, and I was in my car, my phone in my pocket, the call ended, halfway down my driveway.

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