Page 120 of A Love That Broke Us
I won’t accept this.
I need to see Jensen again. I know he’s still in there somewhere.
Through blurred vision, I swipe up on my phone. Tears and snot mix together in a salty mess that hits my lips. I wipe it away and type.
AA meetings near me.
A list appears. Some are close, some farther out. Churches. Off-campus buildings. Offices. They’re everywhere.
I find one for tomorrow night just a few blocks away. We have to go.Hehas to go.
The office door creaks open in the distance, and Jensen’s footsteps move down the hall. He appears moments later, his eyes red and bloodshot, his whole body subdued.
As soon as our eyes meet, he squeezes his shut, pinching the bridge of his nose. His lips tremble, like he’s trying not to fall apart.
“I need help.” His voice cracks—and he shatters.
I’m on my feet before I can think, arms sliding around his waist. He wraps himself around me and buries his face into my hair, sobbing uncontrollably. We both tighten our grip, pulling each other closer, until there’s no space left between us. We cling to each other, holding on for dear life.
We stay there, wrapped around one another.
Broken.
Shattered.
But somewhere in this dark mess, in the middle of all this pain, it feels like someone just lit a match. A spark glimmers in the distance. His spoken truth, a flicker of hope.
His chest shudders beneath me with every breath. My tears soak his shirt. His soak into my hair.
“God, I love you so much,” he chokes out. “I don’t want to lose you.”
I can’t answer. I’m crying too hard, strangled by the weight of everything I feel.
So I squeeze him tighter. I don’t want that either. I don’t want to lose him.
I’ll fight.
With him.
For him.
For me.
For us.
I need more time. We’re not finished. This can’t be the end of us. Not today. Not tomorrow.
Not ever.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
ALLEY
THEN
There’sa fluttering in my chest as I look around the room. It’s not set up like I remember from when I used to attend AA with my dad. There’s no folding chairs in a circle. Instead, the space is small with stadium-style seating, a single podium front and center. I chose an open meeting, one that allowed family and friends, so I could be here with Jensen.
A man with gray hair, maybe in his fifties, stands. “Hello everyone. My name is Grant, and I’m an alcoholic and an addict. I’ve been clean for ten years and sober for two. Welcome to this Alcoholics Anonymous meeting. We’re glad you’re here. We welcome anyone recovering from alcohol, drug addiction, or any other substance use disorder. Let’s take a moment of silence for those still struggling.”
