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west

I went to the Merrillville AA meeting like Jackson suggested—not that I gave him the fucking satisfaction of knowing. I just needed… something. What that was, I didn’t have a fucking clue. Everything was razors against my skin. Withdrawal was a bitch. I was fucking dying. The only thing I could think of was going to a meeting. Maybe that would help.

But I couldn’t bring myself to go inside the small community building. I leaned against my tailgate, arms crossed, as I stared at the building. My anxiety was at an all-time high, clawing and weaseling its way through my chest. My knees locked up, and I was rooted in my spot. The idea of being closed inside a small room with a group of strangers was nauseating.

And so I just watched like an idiot as people milled around the front of the building, wandering in and out. They chatted with one another and were all so friendly and comfortable with one another. I didn’t understand it. I didn’t know how to be like that with anyone.

Just before the turn of the hour, an older guy showed up in the doorway. He ushered people inside, briefly greeting everyone as they passed. He caught sight of me across the parking lot and offered a friendly smile—at least, I knew he was trying to be fucking friendly. It didn’t feel that way as my stomach turned violently. He gestured inside in a silent invitation. Pressing my lips together tightly, I declined with a quick shake of my head. He waited just a moment longer before closing the door.

I couldn’t go inside. I wasn’t worth it .

I went to three more meetings but never made it inside. Hell, I couldn’t bring myself to walk to the fucking door. And I sure as hell didn’t know why I kept coming back. At least when I was in the parking lot staring at the building, I wasn’t in the stables losing my goddamn mind.

As I watched cars start to roll in, the door opened as usual and the same man stood there. He was older with graying hair and a love for polos. So many fucking polos. He knew everyone and spent his time talking to each person before the meeting.

Except today.

No, today, he smiled as he walked right past everyone and toward me.

Fuck.

“Coffee?” He offered me a to-go cup of what I expected was crappy fucking coffee. I took it. I wasn’t sure I could stomach it, but I still took it. “Mind if I join you?”

I nodded, and he leaned against the tailgate of my truck next to me.

“You know,” he began quietly, “we have coffee and donuts inside. The coffee is pretty average, but the donuts are fantastic. They’re the actual bakery kind.”

“I don’t think I could eat a donut right now,” I muttered. Just the thought of it made my stomach clench.

“The withdrawal is hard, but once you get through it, it gets better,” he said. I didn’t ask how he knew. “I’m Bobby.”

“West.”

“I’m proud of you, West.”

“Why?” I demanded. I hadn’t done a damn thing to deserve that shit.

“Well, you’ve made it to four meetings,” Bobby replied as if it was as simple as that. “Even if you haven’t come in yet, that’s still progress. ”

“Not really,” I muttered.

“It is,” Bobby insisted. “It’s okay to be scared to ask for help, West. It makes you human.”

“I’m not…” I faltered. Yeah, I was fucking terrified. There were too many people, I didn’t know what to expect, and I didn’t want to have to talk in front of everyone. Every wild scenario I ran in my head never ended well. I didn’t want to lose my fucking shit in front of everyone, but that was where it always ended. Under my breath, I admitted, “I don’t want to fucking talk to people.”

“That’s okay,” Bobby said. “No one is here to make you talk. Some people don’t talk for weeks or even months. It’s about having a group of people to help each other, learn from each other, and just get through life. Addiction at any stage is difficult, and people don’t understand it the way we do.”

I just nodded. I didn’t have a clue what I was supposed to say.

“We don’t do circle style here,” he continued. “It’s just rows of chairs, so you could sit right at the back away from everyone as you get a feel for it. I’ll even walk you in, so you don’t have to do it alone. What do you say?”

Taking a slow sip of coffee to buy myself time, I considered his question. I really wanted to just get in my truck and drive away with my fucking tail between my legs. That was the safe option. But also the stupid one.

I was fucking struggling—hard. I couldn’t do this on my own. But I refused to ask Jackson for help. The man was already up my ass and driving me insane.

“Okay,” I whispered.

“Okay,” Bobby echoed with a nod. He stepped back as I closed up the tailgate. I held onto that stupid cup of coffee like my goddamn life depended on it, and my legs were lead as we crossed the parking lot. To his credit, Bobby didn’t say a word. He just walked alongside me at my pace.

True to his word, he pointed out a seat in the very back row. Most of the back was empty with everyone sitting in small groups toward the front. I picked a seat in a far corner, close to the door and able to see everyone. I didn’t want any surprises.

“It’s a great first step, West,” Bobby told me softly, giving me another smile as he patted me on the shoulder. The simple contact was fucking torture, but I held back a flinch. I just nodded, and he walked away .

That crawling-out-of-my-skin sensation had settled in, and the walls felt too close. The room was hot and loud, making my chest tighten something awful. I was stuck in my seat, unable to move, even if I wanted to. He could say whatever the hell he wanted but it sure as fuck didn’t feel great.