Page 107 of Bad & Bossy

“He needed that time,” Lottie offered, but I knew she was only saying that to make me feel better. He didn’t need that time. I could have helped him through any relapses he had in the last year, but I chose not to.

“No, he didn’t,” I shot back. I pressed the base of my palms into my eyes, smearing my makeup but needing a tiny amount of relief from the pressure building there. “I fucking abandoned him just like his parents did. I probably made him feel like a monster. I fucking loved him, Lottie. I loved him. I love him still.”

Every breath I took was shaky. Every word I spoke felt like a dagger to my chest.

“I love him, Lottie, and I’ve ruined any semblance of an actual family with him.” The part of me that wanted him gone was dead, buried deep beneath the ground in an iron cage she stood no chance of escaping from. All I was left with were the broken parts that had never wanted to leave him to begin with, and goddamn, it hurt.

“Listen to me,” she said, pulling herself back to position herself in front of my face. “You haven’t ruined anything.”

“I have.”

“You haven’t. I know that for a fucking fact. And if you don’t believe me, I’ll take you to him,” she urged. She took my face in her hands, forcing me to see the seriousness in her expression. All hard lines, with a hint of sympathy swirling in her ocean blue eyes. “I know where he is today.”

Chapter 39

Cole

Grayson sat beside me in the foldable plastic chairs in the center of a middle school gymnasium, joining in as I clapped for the man who had just spoken about a lifetime of battling addiction after addiction. He was two months sober for the first time in his adult life, and every clap I made was half for him and half for the version of myself that I was both times I hit that milestone. It was hard, and he deserved every ounce of recognition.

I wanted to speak but I’d struggled to find the right moment to share my story. I wasn’t often one to talk during meetings, and the regulars of this group knew that by now, skipping over me with ease as they jumped from person to person.

I opened my mouth but the leader of the meeting spoke before I had the chance to. “I think that about wraps it up for this evening,” Emily said. She was still my sponsor, still my guiding light in a storm that seemed to be raging less often nowadays. Now and then I’d find myself wondering if maybe I was just in the eye of it, destined to deal with the second half and swim my way out.

“Wait,” I said.

Every single eye turned to me.

“If it’s okay, if you guys have time, I’d like to share.”

No one moved.

“Cool. Great,” I mumbled, pushing myself to my feet while wiping the sweat off my hands on my jeans.

I cleared my throat, glancing down at Grayson’s wide-eyed grin for support, before beginning.

“I, uh, I started drinking when I was ten,” I said, the words tasting like ash on my tongue. “I watched my father do it when he was stressed or upset or when I’d misbehaved. I saw it on the shelf, and I was worried about a vocabulary test I had the next day at school, I remember that like it was yesterday. I remember the way it tasted when I took a sip and spat it into the bathroom sink, horrified that my father was able to down it. But then I tried again, and again, and eventually, it made its way down my throat.”

Gray’s hand wrapped around my forearm, giving it a quick squeeze of reassurance before letting go.

“It spiraled quicker than I could have imagined,” I continued. “At thirteen, rather than deal with their son’s growing problem, my parents dropped me at my aunt’s house two states away. Bless her, she loved me regardless, and together we managed to get it down to a normal teenage level.”

I swallowed, my throat feeling far too dry. Water. I need water.

“I spiraled again when she died. Drowned in it for about a year before figuring out how to be stable while drinking. I could drink through the night, kill the hangover with a buzz, and start again. Always right on the edge, only occasionally letting myself go on full benders. I went years like that, running my business, making connections, making friends, and I can’t remember a single fully sober moment of any of it?—”

The doors of the gym opened, and although we were told to not pay any mind if people passed through during the meetings, I couldn’t ignore this one.

“I…”

Hazel eyes watched me from across the room, smudges of mascara below them. It was the first time seeing them in a year and I took in a deep breath as Gray found my arm again, not letting go this time. “It’s okay,” he whispered.

I wiped my mouth from the nerves, massaging the muscles of my jaw. “I met someone,” I faltered, the words I’d rehearsed in my mind jumbling together, reworking, rewiring. She’s here. “And there was… there was something about her from the moment we met, something I knew I needed to pursue. But I fucked it up, royally, and I spiraled again, worse than the first time. I landed in a rehab facility out in LA for six months with help from my friends.”

The doors opened again, and a slightly shorter frame stepped through, one arm reaching out to her. “Dana, we can’t just, shit,” Lottie whispered harshly. She grabbed for Dana’s arm, but Dana took a step away from her, cementing herself in the room.

“She gave me another chance without knowing any of my problems when I returned.” I closed my eyes, trying to recenter myself without seeing her gaze. “Things had changed, though. She had a child—a son. She had a life. And despite how easily I found it to slot myself in, everything else around me began to crumble, and my sobriety was teetering. It was the first time I’d ever tried to be completely sober, and I didn’t know what I was doing, how to handle it, or how to get through the hard days. And the hard days just kept piling on.”

I opened my eyes, meeting hers again, and it was like everything else fell away. No circle of chairs, no Gray by my side, no sponsor watching me, no gymnasium. Just her, too far away, and me.

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