Page 51 of Rock Bottom

He rolled his head back to look up at me. “Do you want me to move?”

“What makes you think that?”

“Because you’re so tense, it’s making me clench.”

I frowned and tried to force my shoulders to relax. “Sorry. It’s been a stressful day.”

He hummed in agreement, and my heart fell as he sat up. The warm spot he’d left against my bicep suddenly felt chilled. I reached up to rub it.

“Come on.” He leaned against the far side of the sofa and gestured for me to scoot over to him.

“Come on what?”

“Get your perfect ass over here so I can rub some of that tension out of your shoulders, kitten. Unless you want a tension headache later?”

I hesitated, knowing full well that if I slid over there to lie between Dante’s legs, my mind wouldn’t be on the movie or the shoulder massage he was offering.

“It’s just a massage,” he said. “It doesn’t have to be anything else.”

My shoulders were sore, and I was starting to get a headache, so I did as he asked, scooting closer and giving him my back.

“Not like that. Like this.” Dante put his arms around my ribs and pulled me right up against him. “That’s better, don’t you think?”

I nodded stiffly, but all my apprehension melted when he dug his thumbs into my shoulders. An involuntary groan escaped, and my eyes rolled back. “Good God, that feels nice.”

“I imagine. You’re really tense. Do you ever relax?”

“And when was I supposed to do that between yesterday and today?”

His hands stopped moving.

I turned my head. “Sorry. I didn’t mean it that way.”

“No, it’s okay,” he said and went back to it. “I’m sorry I snuck out last night.”

I closed my eyes as his hands worked their way down my back and tried to focus on that instead of imagining them all over me. “I shouldn’t have been avoiding you. If I’d been paying better attention…”

“I still would’ve found a way to sneak out.” Dante’s fingers kneaded at the sore muscle in my lower back and I bit back another moan so I didn’t embarrass myself again. “If Oscar hadn’t dosed me, I probably would’ve kept drinking. I only stopped because I started to feel woozy and I knew that wasn’t right. I should’ve felt guilty about relapsing, but I didn’t. I was just angry and hurt and I didn’t know what else to do with myself.”

“I told you—”

“I know.” He picked up my right arm and started working on the bicep. “And it was stupid of me to assume you were talking to your mom about me. I can be a selfish brat sometimes. My mom said…”

When he trailed off without continuing, I closed my hand around his and tipped my head back to look at him. “What did she say?”

His soft lips turned up in a small smile. “She said someone like you’d be good for someone like me.”

My cheeks warmed. “And what is it you think I can do for you that dozens of smarter, better trained people couldn’t do for you in the past? Sorry, someone like you.”

I expected a glib answer, or at least something flirty, since that was the direction things seemed to be going.

Dante dragged his thumb over my jaw. It was rough with stubble from where I’d missed shaving the night before and that morning, but he didn’t seem to mind. “You believe in me. That I can do this. You believe I can be sober.”

I sat up and turned to face him. “Of course you can be sober, Dante. I can’t be the only one who believes that.”

“You’re not. At least, I don’t think you are. But you’re the first person who’s made me believe it.” He lowered his head and started fidgeting with his fingers. “People say they hope I get better. They want me to get better. They tell me I need to get sober and list all the reasons why drugs and alcohol are bad for me and all the people I’ve hurt. But you’re the first one who’s ever said I could do it. No qualifiers, no maybes. You just said it like it was already done.”

“You made a bad decision last night,” I said, taking his hand so he’d stop picking at his fingernails, “but you don’t have to let that define you. Start over today. Right now.”

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