King heard the ‘but’ at the end of that sentence. “But what?”
“But that’s not the way this works.”
“Recovery?”
“Mmm-hmmm. If Naomi’s relapsed, then that’s her choice. Riding on in there like some white knight isn’t going to change how she’s feeling, or what she’s thinking. It won’t do anything except take away her accountability for her own choices and the consequences.”
“I can talk to her… I can help her work through it.”
“You really think she’s going to sit there and talk to you calmly over a cup of coffee right now?” Mirrie shook her head. “No way. If she’s drinking, then she’s already in the tailspin and you can’t stop it. If she’s not drinking, then she’s thinking things through, and having you force the issue may well push her over the edge to take that first drink.”
“Fuck,” he growled.
“I know.” She was gentler now. “One of the hardest things about being an AA sponsor is standing back and letting someone spin out of control and screw up. If Naomi needs to self-destruct, we let her. And if she calls and asks for our help, then we give it to her.”
“Wait. What do you mean ‘if’ she calls?”
Mirrie shrugged. “I’ve seen people a decade sober suffer some kind of emotional shock, and then relapse for years. They don’t ask for help, they stop coming to meetings. It happens, King. Sobriety is fragile at times like this. It’s precarious.”
“Fuck,” he said again. “I won’t be able to stand it if she gets hurt because of me. I’ll never forgive myself if another Patrick shows up and take advantage of her.”
“It’s Naomi’s choice how she wants to handle what happened. She can talk to me, she can talk to you. She can come to a meeting. She can drink, she can run, she can hide, she can self-destruct. And whatever choice she makes, there are consequences.”
King was quiet. “She’s supposed to get her one-year coin tomorrow.”
“Yes.”
“You think – you think she’ll be there to collect it?”
“I have no idea.”
More silence.
“So – what?” he said. “We do nothing?”
“We wait. We go to the meeting tomorrow night and I’ll bring her chip with me. She may collect it, or she may start again from almost zero, or she may not show. Any which way, if she comes back to us, then we open our arms to her.”
“That’s it?” King felt panic rising in his chest at his powerlessness. He wasn’t a man who knew how to sit around and do not much when someone or something that he cared about was on the line. “All I can do is wait?”
“And hope.” Mirrie smiled at him now. “Don’t forget that part, King. Have some faith in her, OK? Trust her to do the right thing. She may well surprise you.”
“She surprises me every day,” he said. “She’s the most astounding, amazing woman I’ve ever known.”
“Well, then,” Mirrie said. “Hang on to that. She may come back to you yet.”
**
At just past eight o’clock that night, King slammed in to the back room of his garage and glowered at his team. They gazed back calmly enough, though they tensed up internally. It wasn’t like King to visibly lose it like this. The man had seen it all at least once, and they suspected that he now had ice water flowing through his veins.
“I need you guys to keep me here,” he growled.
Now they did show surprise.
“Say what, boss man?” Tank asked him, his Cajun accent getting thicker in his confusion. “You need us to be doin’ what now?”
“Keep me from leaving.”
“Uh. Why do we have to stop you?” Quinn said. “Can’t you just plant your ass in a chair and stay there?”
“No. If I’m left alone I’ll storm out of here and do something fucking regrettable.”
That put them on high alert.
“Who would you go and mess up, man?” Tex asked cautiously. “And why? And if they really deserve it, why should we stop you?”
King groaned. “I don’t want to mess anybody up. I want to go and find somebody, but I shouldn’t. I also shouldn’t ask any of you guys to track them down for me, though you’d do it in record time, knowing you snoopy bastards. This person needs to stay lost. They need to – to do something and I can’t interfere. Not even if it hurts them badly.”
They all exchanged baffled looks.
“Why not find someone who’s lost or about to be hurt?” Lilly said. “Are they in trouble? In danger?”
“Maybe.”
“So…” Honey shook her head. “Why are we just sitting here and holding you captive?”
King threw himself in to a chair. “Long fucking story.”
“Well.” Jack ran his hands through his dark hair. “You gonna tell us or what?”
And with a huge sigh, King did; he told them every single thing except Naomi’s name. When he finished talking, the ten other men and women in the room nodded silently, then went off to make coffee and organize a rotating sleep schedule. King had bedrooms set up over the garage and they used the space often when they were on assignment. And this assignment was unusual, to be sure, but it was obviously a damn important one.
In pairs, King’s team sat with him through that long night. He was mostly silent, so they were too. They’d been working for King for a while and they’d sat with him on ops more than once, so they were used to seeing him alert and quiet as he staked out a person or place. The man was always calm, though, even when the shit was hitting the fan and the blood was flowing.
But on this night, he wasn’t anything close to calm. He paced, he kept looking at his watch, he checked his cell phone obsessively, he ran his hands through his hair over and over. Valentina tried to convince him to get some sleep and at about four o’clock, he finally agreed. He dragged himself up the stairs and they heard a door close.
Valentina and Knox looked at each other.
“What the actual fuck?” Knox said.
“What the actual fuck, indeed,” Val agreed. “I hope to hell that whoever this woman is, she shows up at that meeting tomorrow.”
“No kidding.” Knox shook his head. “I wonder what the man will do next if she falls off the grid. You think he’ll make us stay here forever to keep him from leaving?”
Val grinned, her dark eyes flashing. “Probably. Dibs I get to tie the man to the bed.”
“Yeah, you’d like that, huh?” Knox’s voice was tight as he remembered the one night he and Val had spent together. He knew first-hand just how adept she was at tying a man to a bed.
“Yep. Any woman would, trust me.”
**
The next night, King and Mirrie met outside the building. Without saying a word, they stood and scanned the rainy street. They stared up and down, their heads pivoting more and more quickly as the minutes ticked by.
“She isn’t coming,” King said at last. “The meeting started two minutes ago.”
Mirrie bit her lip. Fuck, she’d hoped like hell to see Naomi tonight and she’d have been delighted to do so, even if the woman was nursing the worst hangover of her life. The fact that she hadn’t shown was worrying – like, scary worrying.
“Let’s go inside,” Mirrie said. “She may still show.”
“You think?” King’s eyes were flat with exhaustion after two nights of almost no sleep, and his whole body hurt from the tension in his muscles. “You really think?”
“I hope. You?”
He looked up and down the street one last time. “Yeah. Me too.”
They went in to the meeting room and found seats at the back. They hadn’t even been sitting there for five minutes when the door opened and Naomi walked in. King almost crumpled to the floor in relief.
Mirrie got to her feet and went to Naomi, her hands extended. The women went in
to the hallway for a minute, then came back. King watched them walk to the front of the room and sit there together, their shoulders touching as they spoke quietly.
Come on, baby…show me that it didn’t break you. All I want is for you to get that chip; I want it even more than I want you to forgive me. It’s all I want.
Chapter Sixteen
Naomi stood at the front of the packed room; the applause was washing over her but she barely heard it. She stared down at the bronze coin in her hand, felt its warmth travel from her palm, down the length of her arm, all the way to her core.
One year. One year sober.
“You can say something if you want,” Mirrie said in her ear. “But you don’t have to. We can just go and talk about what happened yesterday.”
Naomi glanced up at her. Those violet eyes were watching her closely, and she smiled.
“I’m OK, Mirrie.”
“Yeah?” Mirrie looked over at King. “You sure?”
“Yes. And I do want to say something.”
“Your show, sweetie. You call the shots here.” Mirrie sat down again and the applause died down.
Naomi stood in front of the AA group, gazing down at the coin again. She ran her fingers over it, thinking. Then she looked up.
“I almost didn’t get here today,” she said softly. “I came close to relapsing many times over the past twelve months. But the closest I ever came was yesterday.”
The whole room went still and silent.
“I know, right? One day before my one-year soberversary and I almost launch myself off the wagon? What the hell, you know? But yesterday was… hard. Yesterday hurt me. Badly.”
She saw Matt wince, close his eyes. She took a deep breath.
“I ran yesterday, ran from a situation that I just couldn’t handle. I ran and checked in to a hotel – damn swanky, I’ll have you know, so I’m already dreading my credit card bill next month – and I just numbed out. Had a long shower, got all wrapped up in the fluffy white bathrobe, started to open and close the mini fridge."
She paused.
"I started looking at all those little bottles in there…have you ever noticed how sparkly they are? So small and shiny, so colorful and twinkly. Escape and oblivion and all the answers in a sweet, little bottle. How can something so harmless-looking possibly hurt you, you know?”
A sigh went around the room.
“I opened the minibar fridge, stared at the bottles, shut it, went and sat on the bed. Stared at the closed fridge, went back to it, opened it up. Stared at the booze, shut the door. Over and over and over for four fucking hours. I spent four hours of my life walking between a hotel bed and a hotel minibar fridge and I have to tell you, I have never been so pissed at myself. I almost forgot, you see. For that four hours, I forgot what I’ve learned over the past year.”
Naomi clutched the coin tighter.
“I forgot that there’s always a reason to justify drinking. There’s always an excuse to tell myself to make it OK. I can drink because work sucked that day, or because I got the big client I’d been angling for. I can drink because a friend had a baby, or because a friend died. I can drink because I’m stressed and busy, or I can drink because I’m bored.” She shrugged. “Because it’s snowy and I’m freezing my ass off – or because it’s sunny and too damn hot.”
A rippled of laughter passed over the room; nods all around.
“Or I can drink because I went to see the one man that I trusted, and a drop-dead-gorgeous half-naked woman answered his door and introduced herself as his fiancée. That’s what happened yesterday, you see. I had my heart broken yesterday.”
Sighs again.
“Oh, it’s been broken before, believe me. It was broken when my Dad abandoned me when I was six, and my Mom’s been breaking it every day and a small piece at a time ever since. It broke when alcohol took away my painting, and when I was raped as I slept in a drunken stupor. I know what it is to have my heart broken…but yesterday was different. I had my heart broken by the first person that I’ve ever chosen to trust and really let in. And to love.”
Total silence now.
“So I sat there in my fluffy bathrobe and opened and shut the minibar, and forgot that being heartbroken is just one more pathetic justification to drink, one more bullshit excuse. And like all the other reasons and justifications and excuses, it’s just not fucking good enough. Not anymore. It never was, but I know that now. I forgot for four hours, but then I remembered again.”
Her voice was stronger now.
“After I remembered, I got in to bed and ordered room service and watched a movie. I went to sleep early and I slept late, and I had an expensive breakfast in the hotel restaurant. I checked out and went and did something that means a lot to me…and then I came here to get my chip.” She looked down at it, pressed it to her lips briefly. “I’ll be here again tomorrow, and next week, and next month. I’ll be here a year from now, still facing down all those no-good reasons and excuses and getting another chip, this one with the number ‘two’ on it.”
She smiled around the room, that bright, shining smile that King had come to love. “And I hope you’ll all be here with me, facing down your own excuses and reasons.” She met his eyes. “Telling them that you won’t let them hurt you. Not ever again.”
His heart sank, even as it burst with pride for her.
I’ve lost her. She’s gone.
**
Naomi smiled and shook the last person’s hand, accepting congratulations and best wishes. She was both relieved and hurt that King had gotten up and left as soon as the meeting had ended, and she was still undecided which emotion was strongest. She wanted to talk to him, and she knew she would talk to him – but maybe this wasn’t the time or the place.
The man left and Naomi looked at Mirrie. The younger woman had an odd expression on her face.
“What?” Naomi said.
“I told him to go down the street and get a coffee,” Mirrie said, cutting right to the chase as always.
“At Frank’s?”
“Yeah.” Mirrie touched her tongue to her lip ring, her one sign of being nervous. “I didn’t say you’d be there. I just said I’d tell you where he was.”
“What did he say?”
“That he’d wait for you.”
Naomi sighed. “Yeah, he would say that.”
“It’s your decision, sweetie. What do you want to do?”
Naomi looked at her in surprise. “I’m going to go and talk to him, of course.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes. I didn’t get the chance to say goodbye to my father when he left, and I let painting just disappear from my life without even noticing, really. I lost friends and lovers without a word – they just drifted away. But not this time. This time, I say goodbye properly. I say goodbye and I know that’s what I’m doing. I’m choosing it for once.”
“You call me if you need me after, OK?”
“You know it.”
The women hugged outside, then Mirrie headed off one way and Naomi went the other. She walked slowly, preparing her heart for the pain of seeing Matt again. She was sure it wouldn’t push her in to drinking, but that didn’t mean she was looking forward to being hurt.
She entered Frank’s, saw Matt way in the back in a booth away from all the others. She raised her chin and walked over, watching him watch her. She took in his pale face and the shadows under his eyes, and she bit her lip. He did look awful, and she had to stomp down hard on her own feelings to not care too much.
“Hi,” he said, his voice soft. “Thanks for coming.”
She shrugged out of her raincoat and sat. “Well, we do need to talk.”
“I know.” He gestured at the cup in front of her. “I got you some coffee.”
“You were so sure I’d come?”
“No. I just hoped.”
They stared at each other, then King looked down at his hands.
“I’m so proud of you,” he said softly. “So fucking proud. You proud of yourself?”
“Yes.”
“I’m glad. I’m glad you got yourself through yesterday.”
Naomi nodded. “Tell me about what happened yesterday, Matt.”
“Janine is my ex. And she’s – she’s not well. She’s got problems.”
She looked up sharply at his choice of words; they were an almost perfect echo of what she’d told him about her mother.
“Problems?” she said.
“Yes.” He hesitated. “She’s bipolar and she’s off her medication right now. Has been for a while, from what I can gather.”
Naomi leaned back. “I see.”
“Yeah. When I first met her, she was more in control: on her meds, working, her moods were stable. She never told me about any of it and after about two weeks together, she chose to stop taking her drugs… and she spiraled. Then she crashed. I had no idea what the fuck was going on, but I got her to the E.R. They put her back on her medication, but she refused to continue. Back to the E.R. twice more, twice more she refused to take her meds.”
She sighed. “Oh, God.”
“I tried to help her for about a month, but it did no good and in the end, she broke up with me in a manic episode. It was – ugly. Really bad. And ever since then, she’s kind of walked between reality and fantasy.”
“So what was yesterday, then? Was she telling me something real or was she in some kind of fantasy?”
“She showed up in the middle of the night and said she wanted to get back on her drugs. I took her to the E.R. and then brought her back to my place to keep an eye on her. When you came over, I was at the drug store filling her prescription, and she was supposed to be getting cleaned up before getting in to bed.”
“And were you planning on climbing in to bed with her?”
“No.” He was quiet, intense. “No. You were coming over in an hour, and the plan was for her to go to sleep, and for me to explain everything to you over the phone before you got there. But you came over early and Janine explained first. Sadly, her version wasn’t accurate in the slightest.”
Hard Curves (Dangerous Curves Book 2) Page 19