Page 122 of Blue

“Probably,” I said and sat across from him. “Blue and I are doing good. I talked to Romeo this morning. NA has steps. Nine is taking responsibility for the shit I’ve done, asking for forgiveness, including forgiving myself. That one is a little harder to do.”

“You’ll get there, peanut.”

I stood and kissed his cheek. “I’m not using today, but I don’t have enough days sober to instill a lot ofconfidence. But I’m okay. There’s no expiration date on my sobriety. One day at a time.”

I went to my room, showered, and rushed to get ready for my meeting. Because I wasn’t going to be on a bike, I left my hair down, grabbed my phone, and paused. Sully had left a twenty-dollar bill on my dresser with a note. Tightness squeezed my chest. He made being humble easy. His kindness was quiet yet fierce. Another piece of armor for my recovery.

Now I wouldn’t have to ask Blue for gas money, and I’d be able to add a few dollars to the donation basket at my meeting.

***

At the community center, I parked near the front. As usual, Ansel was behind his desk, welcoming new attendees, greeting familiar faces, and smiling at everyone as they came through the door. Feeling more like a regular, I said a few hellos and went to the meeting room.

Ryatt smiled and waved me over to the refreshment table.

“Where’s McKelle? You should bring her back.”

“She’s busy.” I arched a brow. “Probably with her boyfriend.”

The smile dropped from his face. “Fuck. Really?”

Brad slapped him on the back. “Dude, I told you. No way a girl that hot doesn’t have a boyfriend.”

Ryatt stuffed a cookie in his mouth, and I laughed.

Five minutes before the meeting started, I excused myself to use the bathroom. The door squeaked as I pushed it open. One of the three stalls was occupied. I chose the one closest, dropped my jeans, and listened to the person next to me. She had a large hobo sack on the floor next to her feet.

Maybe it was because of my history with drugs, but I recognized the hiss of breath and the groan of relief. She had to be using—at a NA meeting! Sweat burst along my skin, like a sudden mist of anxiety. My heart rabbited, and my mouth salivated. Oh my god.

Breathe. Cravings never lasted, and I was stronger than my addictions. I wish I could rush how fast I peed. I wanted out of here. I didn’t want to know who was in the stall next to me. I didn’t want anything to do with whatever she was using.

The woman accidentally kicked her bag, and her lip gloss rolled into my stall.

She bent and grabbed her things. I picked up the lip gloss and handed it under the wall separating us. “Thanks,” she mumbled.

I finished and exited the stall. As I quickly washed my hands, the woman flushed and opened the door. I lifted my gaze and met her stare in the mirror over the sink.

“Hey,” she said to me, as if we both didn’t know what she’d been doing. Her pupils were blown, and she could barely focus on my face. She swung her bag over her shoulder.

“Georgia.” What did I say to her? She was high as fuck at an NA meeting. “We’ve been trying to reach you.” I couldn’t ask her how she was doing. She looked tired and strung out. Long sleeves covered her arms, but I’d bet she was full of tracks and scabs.

“I’ve been around.” She pushed her hair away from her face. Dark circles marred her eyes.

“You need help.” I took a step toward her. “I’ll get Ansel.”

“Don’t,” she said, and wiped a trickle of drool from her lip. “You don’t know what I need.”

“I know you’re hurting, but getting high isn’t the answer.”

A forced laugh erupted from her mouth. “How would you know? You’ve been clean for what? A week?”

“Fourteen days. And I know that I’m nowhere ready to do sobriety on my own. That’s why I’m here. We have to lean on each other.”

Her bag slipped from her shoulder, and she tightened her grip on the strap. “Okay. You can help me. I need money.”

A sliver of fear shivered over my flesh. Looking into Georgia’s eyes was like looking in a mirror. The lies, the broken promises, manipulations, and annihilation of anything good.

Panic sent a flush of heat through my extremities and curdled the cookies and coffee in my belly. The flash of withdrawal pain fired through my brain. I couldn’t be here for her. I couldn’t be her sober friend. I wasn’t strong enough to hold hands with black or whatever the hell she was on.

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