I step into the cozy meeting room. Nod a sorry to the guy at the podium. Take a seat on one of the scratchy folding chairs in the back.

This is an open meeting. Mom assured me that friends and family are welcome. She offered to come with me. She came close to insisting.

But I have to do this alone.

Whatever happens with me and Iris, I need to make things right with my sister.

All right, I'm hoping that fixing this will fix my head. That it will reconcile those two halves of me—the I want Iris more than I want anything and the how will I ever trust her again?

It's worth a shot.

The guy keeps spinning his story of hitting rock bottom. How he missed an important meeting because he was too high. How it led to this ugly spiral. There's hurt in his voice. But that's not what has my attention.

It's the strange pride. He's glad shit got that bad. He's glad he almost lost everything.

It was the only way.

He steps down. Someone else steps up. A meeting leader. Something like that. I went to a few of these with Bree the first time she got sober. After her first relapse, I did everything I could to stop giving a shit.

Not that any of it worked.

He steps down. Points to someone in the crowd.

To Bree.

She stands and moves to the podium. Turns to face the room. Her eyes catch mine. They fill with concern.

I smile.

She smiles back. Mouths thank you.

I mouth don't mention it.

She looks to the room. "Hi. I'm Sabrina. And I'm an addict. Most of you know me. I'm here every week. It's been a tough two and a half months. I've been tempted. The other night, I went to the movies with a few friends. There was a bar at the theater. They didn't know I was sober, and I wasn't in the mood to talk about it. I kept looking at the Patron, thinking of how smooth it would taste, how easy it would be to forget that I'd totally fucked-up my brother's life. But I sat with the urge. I felt it. Then I felt it pass. It… It was okay. I wanted it, but I didn't need it." She nods to the room. "Thank you."

She moves back to her seat.

That same guy moves up to the podium, thanks her for speaking, invites someone else.

It goes like that for a while. Everyone spills their guts. Sometimes it's something happy. Pride over hitting a milestone. Sometimes it's a tragic tale of rock bottom. Sometimes it's something small. A slip or an almost slip.

Sometimes it's huge. The forgiveness of a loved one.

A life pieced back together.

The sense everything is going to be okay.

* * *

When the meeting clears out, I wait for Bree in the back of the room. She's different here. There's no heavy burden on her shoulders. It's like when we were kids.

She's happy. She's wise. She's looking forward to her future.

She finishes talking to a girl about her age then makes her way to me.

Her steps slow. She presses her lips together. "I never thought I'd see you here again."

"Me either."

Her voice is sincere. "Is everything okay with Iris?"

"Maybe. That's not why I'm here. At least not the main reason." I run my hand through my hair. This is not my strong suit. But I need to do it. "I'm sorry, Bree. I've been an ass to you."

"I deserved it."

"Maybe. But you were right. I wasn't gonna forgive you. Or myself. I was sure you'd keep fucking up. That can't have helped."

"I… I don't know what to say."

"I'm glad you're doing well. It means the fucking world to me."

Any nervousness falls from her expression. Her lips press into a smile. Her eyes fill with relief. "Really?"

"Yeah." I pull my sister into a hug.

She squeezes back. "Does this mean you're coming to Thanksgiving?"

"I think so."

"And Sunday dinners?"

I laugh as I step backward. "Maybe."

"Mom will be over the moon."

"I only said maybe."

Her smile spreads over her cheeks. "You said it like a yes."

I smile too. I want that. I want things to be okay with us. With my parents.

She takes in my expression. "No offense, but you look miserable."

"I am."

"We have coffee. Good coffee. Most people here drink a ton of it. Or smoke. Or both." She moves closer to the table. Grabs a paper cup and fills it with java. "You still take it black?"

"Yeah, thanks."

She hands me the first cup, turns back to the table to pour a second. "What happened with Iris?"

"It's a long story."

She fixes her coffee with half-and-half and sugar. "What's the short version?"

"I thought I didn't care about anything that had happened before. That the past was the past. I told her as much every time she tried to confess. I stopped her."

She nods understandable.

"But I did care."

"Of course."

"Why?" I need to understand this. I need to know how I could have meant those words when they feel like such bullshit now.

"Walker. You saw me almost die. Twice." She takes a long sip. "Of course you're going to be nervous your girlfriend could be in the same place."

"It's more than that."

"What?"

I'm not sure. My coffee doesn't have any answers. But it is good. "I thought I knew her."

"Do you?"

"Yeah." I know the way she giggles when she falls off my surfboard. And how she squeals when I pick her up. And that shy smile when I tease her about Star Wars. But I didn't know this. I didn't have a clue.

Bree leans against the table. "How long were you dating?"

"A few months. But it feels like more. I… I'm pretty sure I'm in love with her."

She makes an aww sound and presses her hand to her heart. "Really?"

"Yeah."

"Oh my God. This is my big sister moment. You've never loved a girl."

"Never."

"You haven't even liked a girl since high school."

I nod. I haven't. I haven't considered it since Bree started using.

"But you're… it's bad. Or you wouldn't have that look on your face."

"Was it me not knowing she was an addict that tipped you off?"

She plays with her coffee cup. "I really shouldn't have said that. If she'd told you a few weeks later on her own time…" Bree shakes her head. "That was so fucked-up of me. Unforgivable. The anonymous thing is serious. It's the only way people can really share. And I violated that. I… would it bug you if I apologized to her?"

"No, but I—"

"Shit. Maybe I shouldn't. Maybe that would only make it worse." She takes another sip. "Sorry. You, well… what happened?"

"I freaked. She left. We've talked a little since, but… I don't know how I feel."

"Yeah, you do. You just said you love her. Oh my God. This is so romantic. I'm going to have to watch Dirty Dancing when I get home."

I cringe.

"Huh?"

"Don't you think she looks like Jenifer Grey?"

"No. Maybe the nose. But her complexion is all off." She refills her cup. "Don't get me wrong. She's pretty. But I know you care about more than that. Do you care about more than that?"

"Hey."

"Hey what? You're still a guy."

"She's smart. Funny. She’s embarrassed by how nerdy she is. Even when she’s full of nervous energy, she barrels into shit. She goes for it."

Bree's smile widens.

"What?"

"You totally love her."

"I do."

"So? What the hell is the problem?"

"I don't know if I can trust her. I want to…"

"But you told her the past was the past. She didn't betray your trust."

"Yeah." That makes sense. It does. But it doesn't feel right.

"Okay. She should have told you. But this isn't about her. It's about you. Well, and about me. Sorry. I kinda fucked this up for you on both sides." Her laugh is nervous.

"Yeah. But it's still on me."

"Well… can you forgive her?"

"I do."

"Can you trust her one day?"

"I hope so."

She grabs my arm. "No I hope so. You can. I know you can. So stop with the bullshit. If I can get sober, you can trust this girl you're madly in love with."

"Yeah…"

"Oh my God. What's with this sudden mellowness? I know that's your thing, Walker. But don't be an idiot. You love her. You can get to trusting her again. You really think you're going to meet another girl who makes you feel like this?"

I can't help but smile. "You're back to your old self."

"Not quite. But I'm getting there." She takes another sip. "Are you gonna fix this?"

"I don't know."

"You should."

I chuckle. "Have you always been this wise?"

"Only about certain topics." She plays with a strand of dark hair. "I… I really am sorry, Walker. If it wasn't for me, you wouldn't be such a mess."

"Am I that bad?"

"Depends on the scale." Her voice gets soft. "You're a good brother. And a good guy. I hope you figure it out."

"Me too."