Page 72 of His Every Move

And rang.

And— ”Hey, Benji, what’s up?”

“Jace, you free?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“I need to talk to someone. Can you come over?”

Without a second’s hesitation, he said, “Of course. Be there in ten.”

* * *

Lucky was apparently a whore for man laps because it only took him a few minutes before he was curled up on Jace’s. He looked way more peaceful than I felt. I didn’t blame him for his obsession.

“Alright,” Jace said. “What’s going on?”

Jace liked to cut straight to the point. It was something I appreciated about him. “Where do I even start.”

“How about why your hand is wrapped in a bandage?”

I sighed and sat next to him on the couch. I rested my forearms on my legs as I leaned forward, staring at my blurry reflection in the television screen. “I have a problem.”

Those words had never left my mouth before, and I genuinely didn’t think they ever would. But after these last few months, they were words I simply couldn’t deny. And saying them out loud felt like lifting a bowling ball off my chest. “A drinking problem.”

“Thank you for telling me,” Jace said, his reaction surprising me. “I know it must be a difficult thing to come to terms with. And to confide in someone. So seriously, thank you.” He put a hand on my shoulder and squeezed. My heart filled with warmth, even though the hangover-induced anxiety and depression worked hard to take over.

“I blacked out last night. Can’t remember a single fucking thing. I woke up this morning with my hand covered in blood. I didn’t even know what caused it. Not until I saw the mirror right there. I must have punched it last night.” I held my bandaged hand, unable to retrieve even a shred of memory from the night before.

“Did anything happen that triggered this?”

“I’ve been seeing someone,” I said. “A client. Eli. I fell hard for him. I was really thinking we were going to be something together. But I fucked it up. I did some things that betrayed his trust, and he basically cut ties with me. I just went straight to the bottle.”

“Is there any way it can be fixed?”

“I don’t know,” I said. It was relatively easy for me to admit my drinking problem, but I couldn’t bring myself to say what I’d done to Eli out loud. I understood it was fucked-up. I allowed my darkest urges to take hold. It was something I deeply regretted and just couldn’t say out loud in that moment.

“Okay, let’s rewind a bit here. Let’s handle one thing at a time. When did you start drinking? Before it really spiraled.”

I sat back in the couch. Jace mirrored me. A silver necklace glinted from between the open collar of his plaid shirt. “Alcohol’s always been around me, one way or another. My mom, she’s an alcoholic. She could never fight it. Some days—months, years—were harder than others.”

“Damn. I’m sorry.”

“We’ve stopped speaking because of it. I understand it’s a disease, and I don’t blame her, especially not now. Not with what I’m going through.”

“Good. Blame could be just as toxic as the alcohol.”

“It feels like this shit hit me out of nowhere, but if I’m being honest with myself, I’ve been sinking toward my rock bottom for a while now.”

“So,” Jace said, still petting Lucky’s head. “Do you think that’s what last night was? Your rock bottom?”

I gulped. Sucked in a breath. This was heavy. It was deep. I didn’t feel a lick of judgment coming off Jace, which made it a little easier, but it was still something difficult to put into words. All of this. It was the most vulnerable I’d been in a while, not counting the moments I shared with Eli.

Oh, Eli…

“Yes. I really do think so.”

“Then would you be open to maybe attending a program? One of my clients went to one. It’s a thirty-day intensive stay at a ranch out in Upstate New York. I can give you the name of it.”

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