Dave could barely think straight. His mother had never used a gun before. Usually she tried to overdose. Once she’d stuck her head in the oven, not realizing that wasn’t a viable way to kill oneself anymore. Another time she’d tried to hook up a hose to her car and leave the vehicle running.

But never had she gotten a gun.

“She needs to go to rehab,” Janie said in a hard, emotionless voice.

The woman seemed completely unfazed. Janie hadn’t batted an eye about the pills. The gun. She’d assumed control as though she’d been dealing with crazy stuff like this all her life.

“I don’t think she would’ve done it,” Dave said in a weak voice. His vulnerability was showing. His pain. This was why he didn’t like people coming with him when Betty had an episode. He didn’t like them to see how much it still affected him, even after all the times it had happened.

He didn’t want his mom to die. She was the only family he had left.

“What you’ve got to understand is that she’s not in charge right now.” Janie set the gun on the floorboard of the car and opened a white plastic bag. She started rifling through pill bottles, checking labels. “The drugs are steering the ship. She needs to get to the hospital, then she needs to get checked into rehab.”

Dave shook his head. His hands shook on the steering wheel. He wasn’t sure he should be driving, but he didn’t want to admit it. “She’s been to rehab. She does well for a few months, and then she has another lapse.”

“Get her a new place to live, preferably somewhere slightly more upscale than the trailer park, but not too nice, and send her again.”

Dave took the turn without thinking. He’d driven this route to the hospital more times than he wanted to admit. “She won’t move. Refuses to.”

“She’ll move.”

The hardness in Janie’s voice, the assurance, made Dave glance over. The car swerved.

Janie reached out a hand to steady him, then let that hand drop to his thigh. The comforting touch soaked through him, calming the jitters. Easing the fear a little.

He didn’t argue with her. It was crazy, but for some reason he believed Janie would make it happen. That somehow she’d end the cycle that Dave had never been able to.

* * *

“What’d the doctor say?”

Dave startled awake as Janie sat down beside him with two steaming cups of coffee in white Styrofoam. The waiting room was empty. The couple who’d shared it with him when he’d first sat down must’ve left.

He rubbed his eyes and shifted, trying to get comfortable. His butt had fallen asleep.

“Long story short, she had to get her stomach pumped.” Dave gratefully took one of the coffees. “The doctor is recommending rehab. Again.”

“Here.” She handed over a leaflet. “Put her in one of these two. Don’t put her in the really expensive one you always choose.”

He frowned at her, taking the proffered pamphlets. “How do you know which center I usually put her in?”

“I don’t know which one. I just know you won’t spare any expense when it comes to her. But you need to. It probably makes her feel uncomfortable. Take a hint from her telling you that her friends think she’s putting on airs. It isn’t sitting well.”

Anger rose to the surface. “What do you know about it?”

“A lot more than you seem to,” she said, not backing down. “Look. It’s your mom. I get it. You want to do what’s best for her. But that means you also have to listen. You have to gauge where she’s at. If she’s been poor her whole life, and a hard worker, then maybe she needs baby steps to work up to the good life, you know? Some people will accept a handout, no problem. But it doesn’t seem like you were raised by a woman like that. So maybe dial it down some. You’re blinded by your heart.” She sniffed. “I sound stupid, but you know what I mean. I’d hate to live in a snooty place. I wouldn’t fit in, and I’d know it. That’s no fun.”

Dave thought about the apartment complex he’d left. How much better he felt in the place Janie lived, even though it was a shithole on the bad side of town.

He shook his head, but his hand tightened around the pamphlets. He didn’t want to admit that she might know more about Betty’s needs than he did. At the same time, what she was saying rang true. He was blinded by his heart. He knew it.

And yes, he agreed that it sounded stupid.

“Why do you call her Betty?” Janie asked before sipping her coffee.

He welcomed the change in topic, but not necessarily what it was changing to.

“It was a way to try and distance myself from…things when I was younger. My aunt called her Betty, so I started to as well. I’ve never changed back.”

“You said she wasn’t very nice.”

“In these situations, she usually isn’t. But she was too far gone this time. She was close to…” His throat burned and he turned his face away, worried he might break down. Worried Janie would think less of him as a man if he did.

But walking through that door and seeing his mother with a gun to her head, a finger on the trigger and a look of resolve in her eyes…

Another ten minutes and it would’ve been over. He would’ve lost her forever.

Pain coursed through him. His hand shook so badly that coffee slopped over the side of the cup.

“Hey. Oh no.” Janie took his cup and put it to the side with hers. “Come here.” Her arms looped around his neck, dragging him toward her.

“No, I’m good.”

“I know.” Her little hands pushed and pulled at his shoulders until he was in the position she seemed to want. She hugged him close, making him awkwardly bend over and rest his head on her shoulder. His face against her hot neck.

The faint smell of his favorite cologne mixed with her natural feminine scent, a tantalizing aroma all her own. Her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. A deep feeling blossomed inside him, spreading through his body.

“It’s okay,” she said softly, the words humming through her. She rubbed his back. “We’ll get through this, okay? I’ll be with you every step of the way. We can fix this. It’s not too late.”

He squeezed her, soaking in her comforting presence. Relishing her lack of judgment.

“Thank you,” he whispered, turning his face just a little. Letting his lips press against her skin.

“No thanks needed—”

Her voice hitched as he gently sucked in her skin. His hands splayed against her back as he slowly straightened up, needing to connect with her more intimately. He didn’t want to do the right thing just now. He didn’t want to back off. He needed to let his feelings take over—if only for a moment.

He trailed his lips across her jaw.

“Dave,” she said softly, a hint of a warning in her voice.

He ignored it.

He pulled back until his face was inches from hers. He put a hand to the side of her neck and let his thumb gently trail along her jaw. Her pink tongue glided across her plump bottom lip.

He closed the distance.

Her taste flooded his senses. Exotic but wild, comforting and steadfast all at the same time. He opened his mouth and ran his tongue across her lips. She opened as well, her tongue flirting with his.

He deepened the kiss, wrapping his arms around her tightly. Holding her to his body, as awkward as that was with both of them sitting in waiting room chairs. His moan matched hers. His desire rose like a wild thing, making his cock throb and his middle light on fire.

“Janie,” he said against her lips, begging. Not knowing what he was begging for. He only knew that he needed her. Maybe just for the moment, but maybe for the rest of time. He needed her in all the ways a man could need a woman. Could crave her.

“We shouldn’t.”

He heard the excitement in her voice, hampered by fear. She was easier to read than the other women he knew. There were no pretenses with Janie.

He sucked in her bottom lip before delving his tongue into her mouth and swirling it with hers. Passion built, infusing their kiss.

She responded eagerly. Her hands moved over his back and across his shoulders, feeling him. He held her close, his heart thudding, his middle filled with heat and that deeper feeling. The one her painting had brought to the surface, the one her comforting touch had blossomed.

Time ceased to matter. Their surroundings melted away. All he knew was her touch. The taste of her. He never wanted it to end.

A throat cleared somewhere, and it wasn’t until he felt Janie’s hands pushing him away that he thought to stop.

The doctor stood awkwardly in front of them with a disapproving look on his face.

“Mr. Miller?”

“Yes, sir.” Dave stood up and dragged Janie up with him. He entwined his fingers with hers, not wanting to lose contact.

“She is out of danger for the moment, but as we discussed, she needs to be treated for her addiction. She’s up there in years. Rehabilitation will be harder for her. It’ll be a longer road. But you had best get her to check herself in as soon as she’s released.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll make sure she goes.”

The doctor shifted and glanced at Janie before returning his gaze to Dave. “She is taking a lot of medication that hasn’t been prescribed to her. She might be buying it, or she might be stealing it from friends. That is worrisome.”

Janie nodded, and Dave realized that the bag of all those pills, which she’d carried into the hospital, was no longer under her chair. Before he knew what to feel about that, the doctor continued. “You’ll need to watch her. Maybe put her in assisted living or have her live with you. Her living situation might be why she keeps regressing.”

Dave nodded, the helpless feeling that always showed up in these situations pulling at him. He’d been here before. Been told the same thing again and again and again. He’d tried to help, but nothing had changed.

He felt Janie’s hand pull out of his before snaking around his middle. He dropped his arm over her shoulder as the doctor made his way out.

“Keep the faith,” she said, rubbing his back. “We’ll get there.”

He had no idea how.