Page 71 of Hounded: Ashes to Ashes

But he was mad at me, and I was mad at him. Or mad at myself. Or the universe. Or, fuck all, I didn’t know. So, I stared at him like I hadn’t seen him an hour ago. Because I’d spent every free moment this week trying to get as close to him as I was now.

“Hi, baby,” I whispered.

My hand hovered in the air between us, reaching toward him but not daring to touch. He’d come this far, unasked and uninvited. I wouldn’t risk driving him away.

I was absorbed in him, though. Sniffing for his cologne likeIwas the hound and deaf to the rest of the room until a voice piped up on the other side of me.

“Guess it’s my turn.”

I looked over to find the pudgy bear of a man on his feet, clutching his mini tower of cookies.

“Hi, everybody,” he said to the room. “I’m Travis.”

“Hi, Travis,” came the programmed response.

He smiled sheepishly. Visible nerves were crawling all over him.

“Uh, where to start?” he mumbled.

No one answered the rhetorical question, which left him shuffling and shifting the cookies until he began at last.

“I’ve been clean for a year and a half, but getting here wasn’t easy.” He scrubbed his blunt nails against the side of his head. “It started with painkillers after my back surgery. I was laid off work and kinda depressed. The pills made me feel better. Not just physically.”

When he looked over and caught me staring, his cheeks splotched red.

“I-I got a new job but couldn’t keep it,” he continued, a little unsteady. “Then, I got another. Lost that one, too. After sixmonths, my wife moved out. Said she’d come back when I got my shit together.”

It came as a surprise that bicurious Travis was married. But, more than shock, I was horrified that Loren was privy to this sob story. If Travis’s wife gave up after half a year, how did Loren feel after putting up with my bullshit for decades?

I wanted to clap my hands over his ears so he didn’t get any ideas. Or grab him and drag him out the door. NA meetings were for addicts, anyway. Not their partners. He didn’t need to hear this shit.

“That’s when I hit rock bottom,” Travis continued. “I couldn’t afford the rent on our apartment, so I got evicted. Lost everything. Been living with my buddy ever since, and I finally got clean long enough to hold down a job. I rebuilt my savings account and told my wife I was gonna replace our stuff. She told me to go ahead and replace her, too.”

He said the last bit so casually that I would have missed it if Loren wasn’trightthere. If we hadn’t spent the last week wordlessly bickering and sleeping apart.

My stomach flipped, and I clenched my empty fists.

Shut the fuck up, Travis. Shut your sad mouth and sit down.

Travis finished his story on a happier note, but it sounded off-key to me. Eighteen months of sobriety had earned him nothing but a spot on his friend’s couch, a shitty minimum-wage job, and a future filled with lonely nights.

While everyone else applauded, I sat still. I didn’t even finish my cookie.

After the meeting ended, the room began to empty, but Loren and I stayed seated. My plans to capitalize on a moment of privacy were foiled when Travis stood and leaned around me to thrust his hand toward Loren.

“Hey, man. Haven’t seen you before. Are you?—?”

“This is the guy I was telling you about.” I chased Loren to standing, then hooked my arm around his. “My boyfriend.”

“Glad you came,” Travis said. He seemed to mean it. “Support is so critical, you know? Sobriety is hard to do alone.”

My jaw tightened. Guilt and anger tumbled around in my brain like laundry in the dryer.

I wasn’t alone. Loren didn’t leave me; I left him. Freshly fucked and sleeping, tucked in bed where he finally felt safe. I was the one wasting everyone’s time with rehab and meetings when I’d never quit and was growing increasingly worried I never would. The dumpster juice ruining my slippers was the definition of karmic justice because Iwastrash, and I wouldn’t blame Loren if he wanted to dispose of me. Replace me. Shit.

I bobbed my head to Travis’s statement and used my grip on Loren’s arm to tug him toward the exit.

“Great story, Trav,” I said over my shoulder. “Real brave and all that.”

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