Her amber eyes flit to mine, and she’s chewing on her lip so hard, I’m surprised it’s not bleeding. “No, I do. It’s just … I won’t know how to act.”
That really pisses me off. “Why, because recovering alcoholics are a bunch of savages? What does that even mean? You’re there to support me, to observe how I heal myself. You sit next to me and listen. No one is asking you to swing from vines or slit open a vein.”
She takes two steps away from me, and when I look down into her face, it’s as if I’ve slapped her. Immediately, I want to comfort her, but I’m hurting, too.
“That’s … I didn’t mean that. Of course, I’m here to support you.” But by the way her voice shakes, it doesn’t seem that she’s totally convinced herself of that, either.
They say the honeymoon period ends sometime, and I think ours is about up.
We’re silent as we walk into the church, and I head for the basement stairs and down to the auxiliary room where our meetings are held. On the way in, I say hi to a couple of people, not introducing Ryan because this is supposed to be anonymous. Not that she won’t recognize them from town, but what goes on inside these walls is supposed to be kept inside these walls.
The room is dank, and the smell gives every indication of just how old the building is. Rot and burnt coffee fill your nostrils, and the sound of metal folding chairs scraping across the linoleum floors is the music I associate with AA meetings.
Ryan sticks close to my side, even though I don’t lace my hand in hers like I normally would. We just feel off, and it’s making me distant. There is one person I need to introduce her to, though.
Cookie walks in, a cloud of cigarette smoke seeming to still surround her, and she’s in her usual getup. Clunky boots, dark black jeans, a sweater that rides too low on her chest, and some kind of vibrant costume necklace slung around her neck. She’s fabulous with a take-no-prisoners attitude, and I can see a bit of how Ryan will act when she’s close to her age.
“Cook,” I call, motioning her over. When she reaches us, a brow raised, I introduce them. “This is Ryan, my girlfriend. And Ryan, this is Cookie, my sponsor.”
Cookie’s face is expressionless as Ryan extends her hand. “Hey, it’s really nice to finally meet you. Fletcher talks about you all the time.”
“Hmm, hopefully nice things.” My sponsor tries for unimpressed.
Ryan is a confident woman, not one to take crap, but she’s so out of her element right now that I think Cookie rattles her.
“Oh, of course. He says you saved his life,” Ryan gushes, and it’s so unlike her.
I want to joke that she’s being a kiss ass, because she’s not even this flattering to my mother, but it’s probably not a good time to point that out.
“I’d expect that you wouldn’t screw it up, then.” Cookie eyes her with a presumptive glance, and I feel the need to get in the middle before these two start fighting like turkey vultures over a deer carcass.
That deer carcass being me, because hell if I’m even worth this much passive aggression.
“Let’s … find our seats.” I steer Ryan away from Cookie, looking back to give my sponsor a glare that says “behave.”
“Well, she’s a peach.” Ryan snorts.
“She’s just being protective.” Although, I have no idea why. She’s the one who told me to start dating.
“I know that.” My girl’s voice rings of hurt.
The meeting begins, and a bunch of people stand up to share. I decided before we got here that I’d hang back, because I’ve already shared a lot of my worst behavior with Ryan, and we’re already on rocky ground. I don’t need to add to the tension by spilling my past indiscretions; it’s big enough that she even came here with me.
Except, when I look over at her halfway through the meeting, I can read the judgment all over her face. Oh, sure, she is trying to mask it, but I can read her so well after the time we’ve spent together. Ryan is uncomfortable, unconsciously twisting in her seat and trying to avoid eye contact with everyone. It is clear what she’s thinking; every one of these people reminds her of her mother. These are addicts, thieves, cheaters, gamblers of security and love.
Which means … that’s how she looks at me. I see her jaw tic and her fingers tap rhythmically on her leg as each person tells of their failures or successes since the last meeting.
Turning away from her, I try to immerse myself in the meeting. If she isn’t going to support me in this, I don’t see how we can get over the rut we’re stuck in. But I do know that I need meetings to help me stay sober, so I pay attention and block Ryan and her meltdown out.
When the session comes to a close, I stand up, talking a little with the other members around me and then saying the serenity prayer before it really ends. Ryan looks about ready to bolt, but I want to talk to Cookie first.
“Perhaps it’s time that I talked to your belle.” Cookie raises an eyebrow when I reach her at the folding table, stirring her coffee.
The coffee here is shit, which is notorious at AA meetings, but it’s better than nothing. “Lay off her, Cook.”
My sponsor shrugs. “She looked like she saw a damn ghost that whole meeting. Her parents abuse her? Or were they drunks?”
I try not to let my surprise register. “How could you tell that?”
“Because my kid looked at me that way for the longest time. You don’t want her looking at you like that. Or worse, thinking she has a handle on it until you’re in too deep, and she breaks your damn heart, Fletch.”
Too bad she already held that power. “I … things aren’t as rosy as they once were.”
My sponsor smiles a small smile, like my sentiment is all too familiar to her. “They never are. That’s love, though. You’re not supposed to feel its wrath in the good times. It’s the rough waters that are hardest to navigate, and you’re going through your first storm right here. I’m not sure what happened, Fletcher, but there are some fundamental issues between you two. You’re an addict, and she’s terrified of addicts. It’s something you’ll have to address.”
She’s right, of course. Though I wish we could just go back, stay in that honeymoon period a little longer.
My whole life has been choppy waters … it was nice to have blue skies for the little time I had them.
36
Ryan
It’s been three days since I went to Fletcher’s AA meeting, and we still haven’t talked about it.
Things are tense and strained, and we’re barely even speaking to each other. I’m still staying nights at his place because that’s what I do. I hold on until the end, until my heart is teetering on the edge of broken.
This time is different, though. With every second that passes where we don’t address the elephant in the room, my shoulders slump a little more with the weight of failure. Fletcher and I have some serious, foundational issues to talk over. He’s trying to keep his sobriety, and I’ve dealt my whole life with caring for someone who was in and out of drug highs. Fletcher wants space when he’s struggling, and I need reassurance when it comes to my abandonment and relationship problems of the past.
We’re two sides of a coin, trying to become one, and neither of us wants to rock the boat for fear of sinking us both.
I’m sitting on the couch, waiting for Fletcher to get home from another late barn shift working on the clock, when my phone rings.
It’s Geralyn, and I curse, knowing that she called me twice this week and I haven’t called her back. My old boss, or current boss … I’m not even really sure what’s going on. I’m still on her roster of employees, though she’s been great in giving me my space. But with my new position at the school, I’m not sure I can even be one of her coders anymore, and I’ve been too chicken to have that conversation.
Clicking the little green phone icon bouncing on my screen, I pick up. “Hey, Geralyn!”
“Ryan, where the hell have you been?” she starts right in, her tone a new level of pissed off.
I cri
nge. “I’ve been busy here—”
I’m about to explain myself, but she cuts me off. “In bumblefuck Georgia?”
My eyebrows knot in confusion. “I’m in Pennsylvania …”
“Whatever, who cares. What does matter is that I have a job for you. Big system setup in Denmark, private security firm that needs an impenetrable system. I told them you’d be there in two days.”
“Sorry, Ger, I’m still out of the game.” I shrug as if she can see me on the other end of the phone.
Her voice rings through in harsh, cutting tones. “Cut the crap, Ry. I want you on the next plane to Copenhagen. I need my best person on this, and that’s you. Now, I’ve given you as much time as I can spare, but I need you to do this job.”
My heart stutters, and it takes me a moment to suck in a breath. “Ger, I … I really appreciate how much you’ve worked with my schedule the past couple of months. But I can’t just pick up and go to Denmark.”
“Why not? That’s what you do, Ryan!” She sounds exasperated.
No, that’s what I did. That’s what I want to tell her. And even though I’ve contemplated in my head where I’ve ended up in the past few months, and tried to convince myself Fawn Hill was not that place … I find that when faced with a choice, I don’t want to leave.
Copenhagen is beautiful, I’ve been there twice. And at any other time of my life, I wouldn’t hesitate. But somehow, this place, this small town in Pennsylvania, has gotten a hold on my heart. The sense of community among the people here, my group of Nash ladies and their men …
Fletcher.
That’s the number one reason, right there. I can’t leave … because I’m in love.
We might be having a rough time of it, but I’ve never wanted anything more than I want Fletcher. I know that now. Yanis and my past boyfriends could break my heart in a million different ways combined, and none of it would come close to equaling the devastating fallout that leaving Fletcher would cause.
If I tell her that, she’ll scoff in my face. Because she’s heard it before; Geralyn has known me long enough to know that I fall in and out of love as quickly as the seasons change.
But this time is different. When faced with my job and traveling the world, or staying here and being with Fletcher …
I’d pick him. I can honestly say that’s never been my choice before.
“I’m sorry, Ger, I can’t go. I can try to do the work remotely—”
She cuts me off. “Ryan, they want you there in person. I’ve already sold them on the idea of a badass female coder. So pack your bags, pull up your big girl panties, and get flying. If you don’t, I’ll have to fire you and sue for breach of contract. Love ya!”
The dial tone hits me in the ear with a rude wail, and I pull the receiver away, my mouth still hanging open.
And as if timing wasn’t already kicking me in the ass, Fletcher decides to walk in the door right at this moment.
He catches sight of my expression, probably one of horrified shock, and quickly sets his things down and shrugs out of his coat.
“What’s wrong? Was it … was it your mom?” It’s the first time he’s brought her up since I told him about my childhood.
“No …” I rub my jaw, trying to wake myself from the daze Geralyn left in her demanding wake. “That was Geralyn, my boss. She wants me on a job.”
“Oh.” Fletcher sits down on the couch next to me, leaning back in surprise. “That’s not what I thought you were going to say.”
“Yeah .. I, uh, kind of blanked my job out the past couple of months. But she’s insisting. Says she’ll sue me if I don’t show up.”
“Well, then, you have to go, right?” Fletcher’s voice gets scratchy. “Where is the job?”
“Denmark.” My eyes flick to his, and I think we’re both mirroring the same look of worry.
His gaze averts first, shifting to the side. “Damn … that’s not … close. I thought you’d say New York or something.”
I feel it, the slip. It begins, a sludging, nauseating slide from my throat, past my heart, into the pit of my stomach. It’s our relationship, just falling out of my grasp. I could almost see it, the tips of my hands trying to catch it before it fell and smashed all over the floor.
“Come to Denmark with me.” I grab Fletcher’s hands, the idea taking flight in my chest.
We could travel together, he could see the art he’s always wanted to see. I could get the job done, and then we’ll come back. Together. As long as we were together, it didn’t matter. I could support the two of us with whatever I was making on this project.
And maybe this could help us get through the bad period we are in. Getting out of Fawn Hill, a change of scenery, it could do wonders for us.
“Ryan, I can’t leave Fawn Hill. I have the clock tower going up in a month’s time. My family is here. I have an apartment I work hard to afford, and … I love it here. This is where I belong.”
I swear, my heart shatters into a million tiny shards. The glass of the splintered organ breaks haphazardly, and I know it will never fully be pieced together after this.
“Is this because your boss is making you go, or do you want to leave after what you saw in my meeting?” His eyes narrow.
Immediately, anger bubbles up in the back of my throat. First, he’s saying he won’t come with me, and now, he’s accusing me of running away because AA spooked me into the next galaxy.
But this is my out, whether I’m being forced into it or not, and we both know it. I saw him in that meeting days ago, and I freaked the fuck out. But he also doesn’t want to come with me. And that causes me to go into self-preservation mode.
“You know what? I think this was all a really terrible idea. You’re right. I always jump into things, and this was no different. We felt the lust, we fucked, and then I got in deep because … well, like I said, it’s what I do. I should go, we’re on the verge of breaking up anyway.”
Fletcher looks as if I’ve sunk a knife right through his heart. “We are? Good to know your view on things. You never intended to stay here, did you? You can’t even look at me after that meeting, after learning what I really am. Just because one addict abandoned you, doesn’t mean another wouldn’t try to love you the hardest he could for the rest of your life. You’re right, you should go. Run away from your problems, like you always do. I don’t need this bullshit.”
“Fletcher …” My voice is pure panic, and tears leak from the corners of my eyes. The thoughts racing in my head are telling me to deflect, defend … but then they’re telling me to try with all my might to save this. To save us.
“Go, Ryan. Just go.”
I want to take it back, to tell him I didn’t mean any of what I’d just said. But it was out there now, as were his words. I’m not sure how this did a one-eighty in three seconds flat, but then again, I have a penchant for burning my life to the ground quickly.
And now I’d be on to a new city, a fresh start. That was the way things always went.
Except this time, I know I won’t be mending a broken heart.
I’d simply be limping along, trying to ignore the earthquake-sized tremors of an organ that would never repair itself.
37
Fletcher
Two weeks.
Fourteen days.
Three hundred and thirty-six hours.
That’s how long Ryan has been gone, and how long I’ve been numb to everything around me.
I stare up at the ceiling of Keaton’s guest room, because my brothers made me move in here after she left in fear I’d do something stupid. Truthfully, I’m glad they basically forced me into observational confinement. In those first few hours after she stormed out of my apartment, I was so close to hightailing it to the liquor store and guzzling a bottle of whiskey right there in the aisle.
But Keaton had come knocking, packed me a bag, and physically removed me from my apartment. I’d find out later that Ryan went running to Presley, who drove her to the airport and saw her off on t
he plane to New York, where she’d connect to Copenhagen.
The world seems dimmer without her here, and most days, I find it difficult to put two feet on the floor and keep moving. This is why they tell recovering alcoholics not to fall in love in the first year. Maybe the disclaimer should be not to fall in love ever, because it’s too triggering to fall out of it.
Not that I have fallen out of it. My heart still burns with the memory of her, and I haven’t fully convinced it that she’s never coming back. Part of me hopes that she’ll walk through the door and hand me my ass, tell me I fucked up and owe her an apology.
But she’s a world away, and it’s an important day for me. One I’ve been looking forward to. So, why do I feel nothing but pain as I dress for the ceremony in the dark gray button down and dark jeans our resident fashion advisor, Penelope, gave me as a present a week ago.
“Big day, Fletch.” Presley grins a little as I walk into their kitchen.
She and I haven’t seen much of each other since Ryan left, mostly because I’m avoiding her in her own home. I know she wants to be there for her best friend and her brother-in-law, and I don’t want to make it harder for her. I’m the guy who broke her friend’s heart, told her to leave. But Ryan wasn’t innocent in this, and I think my brother’s wife knows that.
“Yep.” I try to smile, but it comes off as more of a grimace.
I pour myself a mug of coffee, chug it, and then stomach a piece of toast. Not only am I nursing one hell of a battered heart, but I’m also nervous as fuck.
Today is the day of the clock tower unveiling, and I’m terrified the damn thing won’t work. Or it will look awful, or that the people in town will hate it. I’ve been jumpy since I tried to lie down and sleep last night, and it only intensifies when I get in the back seat of Keaton’s truck and ride with him and Presley to the ceremony.
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