Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 97417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
There was still a great weight on his shoulders. His arm began to shake and he had to force himself to close his eyes and not watch because it felt like he was ripping off his skin.
When the last drop of amber liquid disappeared, he rinsed the bottle and shoved it into the trash. The simple task had been more of a challenge than walking in heels ever was. He was left sweating and shaking like a leaf, filled with the desire to turn back time. Or transform into a slug and follow the alcohol into hell.
He stared at the shiny metal drain for endless minutes, trying to catch his breath, to regain some resolution, because he wasn’t done.
There were more bottles tucked away in the apartment. And if he didn’t get rid of it all tonight, he’d never have enough willpower to stay away from them. So, with a haggard breath, he kicked off his heels and began the exhausting work of taking his life back.
* * *
Eighteen hours later he was standing outside a nondescript building waiting for the urge to puke to pass. He was shaky and sweaty and his head was pounding, but the determination he’d found the night before hadn’t diminished.
If anything, his obvious withdrawal was a sign that he really did have a problem.
According to the woman he’d spoken to on the phone, the AA meetings were held on the first floor. It was large room with metal folding chairs arranged facing a podium. A table was set up near the entrance with soda, water and coffee. Ansel hovered near the door until a lady came up behind him with a plate full of homemade cookies.
“Hey, sweetie, first time?” she asked.
He tucked his hair behind his ear. “What gave it away?”
She smiled and held up the plate. “Cookie? Chocolate chip, no nuts.”
“Thanks.” He took the offering, even though he wouldn’t be able to eat it without throwing up, and shuffled farther into the room.
“I’m Susan.”
“Ansel.”
Susan set the plate on the table and poured herself a cup of coffee. “Don’t worry, no one will make you talk today if you don’t want to.”
Ansel nodded. “That’s good. I’m not sure what I would say.”
“No one ever knows until they stand up and start speaking. My first time, I was so nervous my hands shook. But I stood there, opened my mouth, and let it all out. It was like an exorcism, you know? All the demons just poured out and after, I was cleansed. I grew up Catholic and our priest used to tell us that confession was good for the soul. I’d always thought it was a bunch of bullshit, pardon my French, but after the first time here I really did feel better. You will too, one day.”
She touched his arm and gave him a warm, welcoming smile. “Come on, you can sit by me.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“Hey, sis, to what do I owe this pleasure?” Fitch held open his front door for Meg.
“Ma called.” She dropped her laptop bag on a dining room chair and crossed to the refrigerator.
“And that explains this unexpected and rare visit because?” Fitch closed the door and followed his sister into the kitchen.
“She thinks you’re suffering from a broken heart.” Meg laughed and stuck her head in the cooler. “She made me promise to come over and comfort you.” She found a bottle of beer, twisted the top off and took a healthy swallow. “So, here I am, comforting.”
He tried to hide his wince. Unfortunately, he wasn’t fast enough.
“Oh my God.” Meg set her beer on the counter. “Seriously? But you’ve never fallen in love before. I didn’t even know you were dating someone. Who is she?”
“No one.”
“Bullshit.”
“It doesn’t matter, he ended it.”
Far too late, he realized what he’d let slip. Meg wasn’t quite as slow and her eyes widened.
“He?”
He escaped into the living room. He didn’t correct himself. He didn’t deny it. Denying his relationship with Ansel felt like a betrayal. How crazy was that, after everything? He couldn’t bring himself to lie about it. He could, however, avoid, avoid, avoid.
He flipped on the television and sat on the couch. As if he could concentrate on anything else with Meg hovering. She’d followed and was now standing over him.
“What? Why are you still looking at me like that?”
“You’re gay? How could you hide that from me this whole time? You didn’t even tell me when I came out? That’s harsh.”
“I’m not gay.”
“Yeah, right. I saw your face, Fitch. I can’t believe you’d lie to me. After everything you said seven years ago?”
“Christ, Meg.” He covered his face and groaned. “I’m not lying. I’d never lie to you.”
She sat on the couch, one foot tucked under, facing him. “Really? You’re not gay?”
He knew he wasn’t, technically, but he had slept with a man, more than once. And he’d wanted to continue to do so into the foreseeable future. The end of his homosexual relationship had not been his choice. But how could he explain it to Meg? He looked over at her. She bit her lip, confusion and worry wrinkling her brow. It was a very similar expression to the one she’d worn when she’d sat him down and made her own confession.