Page 46 of Beneath the Stars (Sugarlake 1)

I’m not a big proponent for God, but Nar-Anon

’s message is more of surrendering control to whatever higher power you choose to believe in. It’s a crucial part of recovery, and while I’m not sure what that higher power is, I do believe there is one. I have to believe there is one.

Two years ago, I finally opened up more to Doc, letting him read my journal entries. It’s been a lot of inner work, but I’ve recognized how the drug addictions of my mom and sister were the biggest factors of shaping how I handle relationships. Of shaping how I handle life.

I had never heard of Nar/Al-Anon groups, but Doc gave me pamphlets and explained how they were support groups similar to Alcoholics Anonymous, but for family members affected by addiction.

It took me two months to get the courage to go to a meeting. It took me six months to stand up and tell my story. Once I did, there was no turning back. For the first time in my life, I didn’t feel so alone. Other people stood up and shared, flaying themselves open to showcase the pain from the addiction that cost them their loved ones. If they could be vulnerable, I figured fuck it. I could try. And so began the biggest strides in my healing.

Four months ago, the founder of our local chapter moved to Georgia, leaving a spot open for someone new to lead the group. I have no fucking idea how it happened, but that someone became me.

I’m twenty-eight-years-old and it’s the first time I can say I’m content with myself. It’s amazing how different things become when you aren’t harboring a lifetime’s worth of self-hatred. I’ve worked through the loathing of my culpability in Lily’s downward spiral. I’ve struggled with it. But I’ve accepted that she was battling her own demons, ones that had nothing to do with me. It’s a regret I’ll live with the rest of my life, knowing I chose to be blind to her pain.

Accept the things I cannot change.

I’ve tried to do the same work within myself over how I treated Goldi. Our “relationship” spanned seven years, and I can only remember one where she seemed genuinely happy. Guilt isn’t a strong enough word for the emotion that drowns my body when I think of how badly I treated her.

So I write about her in my journals. Let Doc ask about her in my sessions. Opened up about the pain of losing her in group. People tell me first love is always susceptible to damage. It’s fiery, intense, and usually burns out quickly. They say to forgive myself and move on. They don’t understand. It’s not my forgiveness that is needed.

I think about her all the fucking time, allowing myself to delve into soft honey-blonde hair and the comforting scent of vanilla. I torture myself, remembering how every cell in my body reached out to fuse with hers. I’m convinced my memory exaggerates how strong our connection was. But I revel in it, all the same. I’m sure she’s long gone from Sugarlake by now. On to bigger and better things.

Wherever she is, I hope she’s happy.

I watch Marissa zip her black pencil skirt and bend to slip on her high heels. She stands and turns, hands on her hips.

“See something you like?” she purrs, walking over to give me a kiss.

“Just admiring the view.” I smirk.

Marissa surprised me last night, saying she had something “special” to give me. I was a little annoyed she showed up unannounced, but who am I to turn down a gorgeous woman if she wants to give me the gift of anal. I’m a mere mortal man.

“You know, if you gave me a key, then I could have been waiting in your bed… naked.” She peers from under her lashes.

I sigh, leaning against my headboard, the sheets pooling around my waist. We’ve been together for the past three years, but I’ve been honest with her from the get-go about keeping things casual. I’m not interested in a serious relationship. I care about her, but it wouldn’t be fair to promise something I’m not sure I can give.

She agreed at first, but I suppose it’s natural that after a certain amount of time, she’d start to want more. Maybe if I hadn’t met my soul mate when I was thirteen, and lost her when I was twenty, I would be able to feel for Marissa the way I suspect she’s starting to feel for me. But, I don’t. And it isn’t fair to Marissa for me to pretend otherwise. I’ve tried to let her loose, urged her to meet someone who can give her everything she wants. But she sticks around, showing up and putting her pussy on a platter. So for now, I’ll give her the parts of me I can.

Marissa sits at the edge of the bed, frowning. “Look, Chase, I’m not asking for a ring. Hell, I’m not even asking for us to move in together. Which if I was, after three years, could you really blame me? All I’m asking for is a level of trust. For you to show me that you want me in your life.”

I run my fingers through my hair, blowing out a breath. Fuck it. “Okay. I’ll get you a key made. But, Marissa, I’ve been honest with you from the beginning. I’m trying here, I am. Slow is what I need. I enjoy your company and I care about you. Please don’t push me for more than I’m ready to give.”

A smile lights up her face. “I think you’re worth the wait.” She pecks my lips. “Your parents are in town tonight, right? What time are you meeting them?”

“Six. Do you want to come?” I ask. Sometimes she tags along, but I’m hoping she says no.

“I’d love to, but I need to lay out these designs for the McKenzie project. I’ll be locked in my cave for the rest of the night.”

I shrug. “No loss. I’m sure Anna will be disappointed you’re not there, but it’ll be the same shit, different day. Catching up on what’s happening in our lives.”

“You mean your life.”

“What?” I look at her, my eyebrows drawing together.

“Well, I mean… you don’t really bring up your hometown, and neither do they. But their entire life is there, Chase. You had to have realized the conversation always centers around you.”

I let her words sink in, marinating in my brain. Is that true? Sam and Anna both know all things Sugarlake is a sore spot for me. I run through our past few dinners, realizing they’ve never once steered the conversation toward themselves. Fuck my life. All these years later, I’m still acting like a selfish prick.

I tell myself while I drive to the restaurant that I’ll make an effort. Ask about them for a change.

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