Page 1 of Xavier

CHAPTER 1

Xavier

“I wantto congratulate you all on your success today. This marks the beginning of a new life. A life clean and sober and filled with the many wonderful things that comes with living free and independent of that which used to rule you.”

Clapping erupted around the small room, our entire group having been crammed in the small auditorium of the local high school for this ceremony. Our chairman, Robert, smiled at us from the stage while he gripped either side of the podium.

When the clapping finally died down, Robert began to speak again. “Today marks one year. I hope to see you all for our next ceremony to celebrate two years and thereafter. Congratulations, all.”

All of this felt so surreal. Even the gold chip in my hand, no matter how many times I turned it over onto its opposite side, still didn’t feel real. The ridges carved into the face of it, stating that I was one year sober, were smooth to the touch as I grazed my thumb over it.

Pride filled my chest—at least, that’s what I hoped it was. Getting back in touch with my emotions through therapy over the last nine months had been intense, to say the least. I never really had that healthy of a relationship with the deeper parts of myself, and that had become rather apparent and a huge slap in the face when I’d begun to really focus inwardly.

On the one hand, I was glad to have finally started to heal myself. As scary as it was to stop drinking and really focus on getting my mental health back in order, just as Robert had said in his speech, it had been freeing.

On the other hand, my future was uncertain. Sure, I had a great job and a boyfriend that I loved dearly, but there were still things that I was struggling with that felt like once I got a few steps put in front of me, something would come along to send me five steps back from where I started.

Namely my son, Dexter.

“Hey.” Someone clapped me on the shoulder, bringing me out of my funk. “They’re serving pizza and wings, you want me to bring you a plate?”

Danny, my one friend from AA, was giving me a toothy grin while waiting for my answer. He was a bit younger than me, had lost his way after his wife and daughter had died in a horrific car accident that had left him severely scarred on the right half of his body.

Pain killers to numb his injuries had soon turned into a full blown addiction that he’d eventually swapped for alcohol because it was cheaper and easier to get. Unfortunately, it was a tale as old as time and one I knew all too well how it went.

I was glad that someone like Danny, who radiated practical sunshine out of his ass, had found his own light in coming to AA and getting himself clean. That was a man that I could admire.

“Nah, I’m good.” Standing, I tucked my chip into my pocket. “I’ve actually got to head to the station. To save lives and whatnot.” That last part was partially a joke, but one Danny found absolutely hilarious nonetheless.

He clapped me again on the shoulder. “All right, then I’m taking your portion of the wings.”

“Go for it. But don’t call me at ten o’clock tonight complaining of heartburn.”

He let out a gasp. “I’d rather down an entire bottle of pepto than call your cranky ass.”

That brought a smirk to my face.

At least my reputation preceded me, even here.

Waving at him, I headed out before anyone else could trap me in a long and drawn out conversation about our hopes and dreams now that we all had our one year chips. I had set goals for myself long before this, and while they were all still a work in progress, I was managing.

Once I shoved the door to the outside world open and stepped out into the fading sunlight, I let myself finally breathe. It wasn’t that being in there with a bunch of other recovering addicts made me anxious or anything—quite the opposite, in fact.

But too much of being crammed inside of a tiny room with only one way out had me wanting to crawl right out of my damn skin.

I supposed it was a part of my military training not to want to be trapped in an environment like that. Too many factors played into getting fucked if an enemy were to attack and block off the only line of exit. Or, if for some tragic reason, a fire or something similar were to break out and panic ensued—not much could be done fighting against twenty other people scrambling to get away.

Even now that I was out and a civilian like the rest of society, it was hard to shut that part of my brain off. No matter what I did, my therapist had reassured me—or rather, doomed me?—that I’d always have that gut instinct to survive and get out.

That intuition was what had saved me while in the military, after all.

Shaking my head to rid myself of the thoughts before I delved too far downthatrabbit hole, I pulled out my cell and scrolled through my text threads, coming upon Gage’s. Opening up my camera, I snapped a quick photo of my chip and sent it over to him.

Despite the time difference, he responded almost immediately.

Congratulations, Baby! I’m so proud of you!

There was a smattering of emojis after that, ranging from confetti cannons to hearts.

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