No. That would be irresponsible of her. She thought hanging with Ethan would help Jay’s self-esteem…for the short while, but way too many things could go wrong. The risks far outweighed any potential benefits. Instead, she’d already thought of Sam. Sam was in his fifties, had struggled with alcoholism his whole life. He still smoked cigarettes and didn’t plan to give them up, but he’d maintained sobriety for three years. Jenna had told him six months ago that he didn’t necessarily need to keep attending the group. He had his shit together. But he told her he did need it and he wanted it. She’d told him he was welcome to stay as long as he wanted. He’d sponsored a nineteen-year-old boy a year earlier, but the kid had disappeared shortly after joining the group. He was found dead a few months later from an overdose. Sam hadn’t said anything, but Jenna knew it bothered him. She wanted to give him another shot at success. Really, though, and it was something she tried to impress upon sponsors, they had no control over what the person they sponsored did, nor should they feel that way. They were there to be a sounding board, to listen, and to offer advice and a shoulder. She thought Sam would be perfect. He wasn’t overly impressed by Ethan’s background. He was kind and gentle, but she also suspected he could be firm if he needed to be. She thought he’d be a good fit.
Both Ethan and Sam approached as everyone else trickled out of the room. She smiled at them both. “Ethan, I realize this is your first group with us and you might decide it’s not for you, but if you are considering staying with us, I’d like to have someone sponsor you. Now, I’ll just briefly tell you what that is in case you’re not sure. Basically, your sponsor is someone you can call when you feel like you’re going to give in. They’re the voice of reason when your head is trying to tell you something else.” Ethan nodded but didn’t say anything. “This is Sam, Ethan. You’ve been…three years sober. Is that right, Sam?”
“Yes, a little over three.”
“Fantastic. The idea is while no one has the exact same experiences, you’ll still be talking with someone who can empathize—based on past experience—but who can also offer advice if you need that.” She looked at both men. “Are you both okay with that?”
Sam nodded, his usual quiet self, followed by Ethan. “Yeah, that’s cool.”
“Well, I’ll let you get to know each other and exchange numbers while I clean up the room. And, Ethan, if I could also talk to you when you’re done, that would be great.” She went to the coffee pot first and turned it off. Normally, she wouldn’t ask to see the new guy on his own, but she had an apology to make, and she needed to do it before she forgot.
She could tell that Ethan and Sam seemed to be hitting it off, in spite of the fact that they appeared to be very different. And maybe that’s what Ethan needed. He’d grown used to worshipping fans—he needed a mentor now, someone he could look up to, and Sam might prove to be that person.
She’d just finished putting up the chairs and had pulled out her phone to check messages when Sam left the room. Ethan walked over to her. Oh, that wasn’t good. He had that look again, that one that communicated that he believed he was God’s gift to the world. She’d have to fight her urge to give him a piece of her mind. He was not an ex-boyfriend, even though he reminded her of so many of them. He was a client, just a guy—broken—and he needed her help. So she kept her ire in check and said, “I wanted to apologize to you.”
He still had the amused look on his face when he said, “For what?”
“Well…I have this rule. You can get to know each other outside, but I try to keep it first names only. It kind of helps with the anonymity thing and lets all of you, I hope, feel a little freer about sharing and being open. I was thrown off guard when you walked in late and just kind of interrupted everything. And I guess it’s no excuse, but I broke my own rule.” She let out a slow breath. It wasn’t just a rule. It was the rule. And, off her game or not, she shouldn’t have done it.
“It’s cool.”
“It’s not, and I’m sorry.”
He shrugged. “Really. One of your guys recognized me anyway. It’s not like I could have pretended to have been no one. It’s okay. I’m used to attention.”
Jenna had felt bad, but he was moving from humble and sweet to cocky in no time flat. The only thing he hadn’t done was admit that he was not only “used” to attention, he thrived on it. She could see that already. But it too was probably some deep-rooted defense mechanism, something he did to hide his real self from everyone else. Because she had stacked the last few chairs, she started walking toward the doorway. Ethan followed. She said, “I don’t know if Dr. Thomas told you, but I also do one-on-one counseling as a Certified Addiction Counselor. It might be the kind of thing you need. Granted, I don’t know what kind of treatment Dr. Thomas has in mind for you, but counseling is what I do. I’m willing to help you as much as you’d like.”
He smirked, a classic Ethan look. It was a look she’d seen from him in probably ninety percent of the pictures of him she’d ever seen. It was arrogant and…sometimes hot. What the hell was she thinking? She took a deep breath and steeled herself. She couldn’t even imagine what he was planning to say.
He got closer to her, so close she would have been able to feel the heat coming off him if it hadn’t already been hotter than hell, thanks to the mid-July weather pummeling Denver. “If you want to see me alone, all you gotta do is ask.” It was so cliché, but she felt her bottom lip pull away from her upper one anyway as her jaw sagged in disbelief. She had no words, but she felt her brow furrow as she tried to decide if he was serious. His next words confirmed that he was. He got even closer, and she felt herself back up into the door jamb. His eyes searched hers. “I have to say, though, pretty clever.”
There it was. Her tongue. Finally. “Look, Ethan, don’t get me wrong. I sympathize, because I know you’ve gone through hell, and I suppose you are used to women throwing themselves all over you and finding unusual ways of doing it, but when I offered counseling, that was all I was offering.” She started feeling angry, because his eyes were knowing, his smirk indelible. She did find him good looking, but he was a cocky douchebag. She was irritated that he knew he was charming and sexy and equally irritated that he could tell she thought that. So her next words should have been chosen carefully, but she was whipped into a frenetic anger, and she wanted to be firm about what she was going to say. “My body? Not up for grabs. Not by you or any other man.”
He cocked his head. “Really? You’re a lesbian? That’s hot…but I never would have guessed it.”
She was feeling frustrated. “No, I’m not a—look. That doesn’t matter. What does matter, Ethan Richards, is that you are showing me no respect, and you haven’t from the second you walked in here. You’re acting like this is all a big joke. And you know what? If you think it is, then it will be.” She flicked off the light switch and walked into the hall, waiting for him to exit the room so she could close the door. When he joined her, the look on his face had changed a little. That was a good sign. She grabbed the door and pulled it shut. “If you want my help, if you want to connect with the group, fine. But check your ego at the door. No one here is a rock star. We’re all broken.”
Fuck.
She hadn’t meant to let that one slip. But maybe he’d take it at face value, that strength would be gained from each other by sharing, but that they all needed fixing of some kind…not necessarily herself included.
Fortunately, her little outburst had had the effect she’d needed it to. He looked a little humbler, even though that glint was still in his eyes. Gone, though, was the smirk and the attitude. “Sorry. You’re right. I do want the help.” He swallowed. “Next Thursday?”
“Yes.”
He nodded. “Okay. I’ll be here.” He started walking toward the outer door and out into the warm night. She was not far behind him and closed the outer door to the church, making sure it was locked. She took another deep breath and started walking toward the sidewalk, glad the night was just about over.
Chapter Five
WOW. A LITTLE feisty. Jenna was going to be a force to be reckoned with, but in a good way. Ethan walked out slowly, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. Part of him was disappointed, because he’d like nothing more than to nail that little number. But she was smart too. He’d only gone to college for one year, and he didn’t know that he’d learned much of anything during that time. He’d been too busy scoring and trying to get his band—located elsewhere—off the ground. This young woman had to have at least one degree, maybe two.
So why couldn’t she counsel him and fuck him? He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d been with a woman. No, that wasn’t entirely true. He’d managed to score once in rehab, and if he and the girl would have been caught, they both probably would have been kicked out. As it was, it had been a quickie, because they were both trying to avoid someone walking in on them and finding out.
But since? No.
It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be with someone, but he was trying hard to stay sober. He had to be careful not to get involved with a woman who’d make him fall off the wagon again. It would be so easy. Sex, drugs, and music went together…thus, the old saying. It would be way too easy.
But this woman? Hot damn. She was sexy and intelligent and, he suspected, a little metal. He couldn’t tell because she was wearing a blazer over her blouse and jeans, but he thought he was right. He was sure she had recognized him. Then she’d turned him down without much thought. He was no shrink, but he thought it meant one of two things—either she did want to sleep with him and was trying to hide it, or she really had no interest and, in fact, disliked him.
He needed to find out for sure. He wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight without knowing. If that made him look like an arrogant asshole rock star, so be it.
So he paused on the sidewalk and waited for her to approach. She didn’t startle seeing him, probably because he was bathed in light from the street lamp. “Can I ask you a question?”
She got closer to him. “Sure.”
“Would it be so bad to go out with me?”
He thought he could see a flicker of a smile on her face, but that was all it was. She asked, “Do you think that would help your recovery?”
Ethan smiled then. “I don’t think it would hurt it.”
She drew in a deep breath. “I have to disagree with you. Something you need to understand, Ethan, is that you’re vulnerable right now…whether you want to admit it or not. It’s very easy for people in your position to look to those who are helping and feel a connection, often a connection that’s not there. People like me are a lifeline between your past, the past you want to rid yourself of, and a future full of hope. But we’re not saviors. We can only guide you. You have to do the hard part.”
“I know that.”
“But sometimes it will feel to you like we care about you personally. Don’t get me wrong—we do and will—but it won’t be what you think.”
Time to turn up the charm. Ethan had learned from a very young age to use what he had. He hadn’t had the advantage of being able to shrink into a little ball of nothing that people ignored or disregarded, so when the shit started to hit the fan at home, he was a target for people’s attention, whether good or bad. People had often commented on his looks, though, even as a child, and he’d learned to use them to his advantage. Soon, people were drawn to him, and before he started having bouts with the dark cloud that would make him lose his way, he realized that, along with his looks, he could charm people. Because they were naturally drawn to him, he figured out early on how to win people over. He’d passed more than one class in high school thanks to that ability. Surely, Jenna was no different. Yeah, she could see through him—she knew he was a junkie who really needed help—but maybe she would also understand that he was a man with needs…and, goddamn, he wanted her. So he smiled that cocky smile that he knew melted panties and said, “I’m not talking about love, sweetheart. I get the whole emotional bullshit stuff you’re talking about. I just want to know if you’ve ever just seen someone and wondered what they were like in bed.” Her eyes narrowed a little, but otherwise she was giving nothing away. Ethan figured that was part of the training for her job—maintaining as neutral an expression as possible. But he thought he might be on the right track. So he lowered his voice and got just a little closer, enough that he was in her personal space. He wanted her to feel him, even if she never actually touched him. “You can’t tell me you’ve never just looked at someone and needed to taste them, be with them.” Oh, yes, there was a definite change in her eyes. “There has to have been at least one time when you looked at someone and knew you had to fuck them…or die trying.” Still, she said nothing. “Am I right?”
Her nostrils flared. Oh, God…that was not good, because Ethan could feel things getting a little snug down below. This woman was incredibly hot, and she was even sexier angry. He was considering pissing her off more just to get a rise out of her, because that was becoming a turn on. As furious as she looked, though, her voice was calm and quiet. “That may be true with you, Ethan, but not all of us are dominated by our hormones. Some of us have a little self-control…and maybe that’s where you need to start in your journey to recovery.” She took a deep breath. “See if you can figure out where to draw the line.”
Ethan grinned, unable to help himself. “Where’s the fun in that?”
She was not amused. “Maybe it’s time to get serious.” She reached into her black purse and pulled out a card holder. She took out a business card and handed it to him. “When you’re feeling less comical, you can call.” She turned on her heel and started walking down the sidewalk.
“So I guess coffee’s out of the question then?”
“You’re a laugh riot,” she said, but she didn’t turn around. She just kept walking.
Ethan let out a breath and rubbed his neck again. She was either going to be a tough nut to crack, or she was serious. He hadn’t met a woman like that in a long time. He let out a breath and walked to his truck parked a few yards down the block. As he did, he tried hard to remember the last time it had taken some effort to coax a woman into bed…and he couldn’t remember the last time.
No, that wasn’t true. He had to give it some thought, but it came back to him. It was years ago before his band had gotten a recording contract. It was when his ex-wife Valerie was still in his band. They’d been on the road touring—before they’d gotten married—and he’d been thinking a lot about her. He’d been wanting to get back together with her. One of those nights, he’d pulled her onto his lap and told her he loved her and needed her…and she’d rejected him. Flat-out spurned him. He’d tried not to let it bother him, but he couldn’t help it. It had sent him careening over that precarious edge once again, and it was the first time he’d landed in the hospital because of an overdose. No, it wasn’t the first time he’d ever OD’d, but he was convinced he would have died had his friends not rushed him to the hospital.
Since then, though, as someone women considered a “rock god,” he hadn’t had any problems getting women into bed. In fact, most of the time, especially with groupies, it was their idea…and it was fun making them beg for him.
Now, though, looking back over the last few years, many of those encounters made him feel empty. Most of the time he’d been cheating on Val, but it had felt like a compulsion. No, he wasn’t a sex addict. He knew that much, but he had this…darkness inside, something ugly, like a dark cloud, and sometimes the best way to disregard it was by getting laid. His wife? Well, she had known something was wrong with him. She knew he had some problems. She’d stuck by his side through so much, more than any other woman probably would have. She’d loved him, but she’d cared more for someone else, and Ethan had known it, and he knew he himself wasn’t the right guy for her. More than that, though, he understood that—much as Val loved him—she had no idea what he was dealing with. She wanted to, yes, but…she’d always seemed so innocent, so pure. He hadn’t wante
d to burden her with it. So the sick, nasty, twisted, dark things in his head…he could take them all out on the women who threw themselves at his feet. They wanted it. They really did beg for it. Val, though…all she’d ever asked for was love, and he gave it to her as best he could.
But now he wondered, and he really doubted, if he could ever treat a woman right, the way she truly deserved to be treated. He was dubious. He’d been dealing with women the same way for so long that he didn’t know if he could put the genie back in the bottle. Sure, he’d lavished Val on occasion—found ways to show her he loved her when he could—but ultimately she saw the monster inside. He’d never forget the time he’d wrapped his hand around her neck and squeezed.
His hands gripped the steering wheel. He watched as his knuckles turned white. That was all in the past now, and Valerie and Brad seemed happy. Brad was not only treating Val like a queen, he was playing stepfather to Ethan’s son and doing a great job. In fact, he was doing such a good job that Ethan was worried about his son forgetting who his real dad was. He was afraid little Christopher would grow up hating and resenting his real father…and so, even if Ethan could never find a way to make things up to Valerie or would never be able to have a real relationship with a woman again, he did want to find a way to bond with his son and become the father he should be.
And that thought gnawed at him until the next day when he finally picked up the phone and called Jenna…this time to ask with humility and sincerity about her counseling services.
Bullet Series Box Set Books 1-8 Page 50