I stand and watch until her taillights blend into the early morning fog. It shouldn’t surprise me the doctor knows I’ve been popping pills. It does. I thought about trying to defend myself, but there really isn’t a defense to give. This is the part where I should turn away and not think about Dr. Skye Walker again. But, I find that I can’t do that.

Something about this woman makes me feel alive in ways I’ve never experienced before, even when I thought I was falling for Carrie. Carrie had more to do with wanting to protect and care for her. Skye challenges me. The problem is, I’ve dug myself into such a large hole that I’ll never be able to crawl out of it to even see what this woman could possibly be to me. An overwhelming feeling hits me square in the stomach, like a punch, and I know exactly what it is—regret. This woman could have been my future, and I’ve ruined it.

I need to make some big changes if I want to try and pursue something with her—or even just try to get her to talk to me. I rub the back of my neck, hard. It’s another of those fucking headaches coming on. I feel it starting, and like always I’m helpless to stop it. Here’s where I’d take a pill to dull it. Here’s where I’d go lose myself in the pills, booze, and maybe a woman, before trying to sleep it off. I reach in the pocket of my jeans and take out the small brown bottle. The medicine inside rattles, and the sound is a siren’s call, beckoning me to take just one more taste.

I start to do that very thing, until I remember the look of disgust on Skye’s face as she called me on it. She’s a good woman—a strong woman. She’s the type of woman a man could hold on to and never worry about what the future holds. She’s a woman worth trying for.

That’s the thing right there. I haven’t felt like getting out of bed in so fucking long, let alone trying. Skye changes that. I palm the bottle in my hand and tighten it up. I can feel the plastic bending under the weight of my grip. I sit down on the concrete ledge that separates section A from this one. I put the pills beside me and stare at them while I dial my phone.

It takes three rings before the sleepy sounding voice answers, “Hello?” she asks, sounding confused.

“I need a favor,” I tell her straight out, not beating around the bush.

“Who is it?” I hear Crush in the background saying. “It’s just Nic, go back to sleep Cowboy,” she says before her voice comes back to the receiver. Her voice is stronger now, clear and definitely wide-awake. “Let me go into the bathroom. I don’t want to disturb, Zander.”

I keep staring at the pills, alternating between being afraid of what I’m about to do, and afraid of not doing it. I place my free hand on my leg and watch as it shakes. I don’t think it has anything to do with the occasional tremors I have. I hear a door close through the phone and then Dani’s voice comes back to me.

“What do you need, Bull?” she asks, her voice laced with concern. Dani has gone through a lot of changes since she and Crush worked shit out. I hated her once. Part of me still might. But she was the only one who saw me sinking. She was the only one who reached out a hand. I still remember the last time I saw her before she and Crush left to join Diesel’s crew in Tennessee. She hugged me, which frankly scared the hell out of me. Dani and I didn’t have that kind of relationship. I never wanted one with her. I blamed her for all kinds of shit, even if most of it wasn’t her fault. She made mistakes that hurt people I loved and, therefore, that made her someone not worth my time. Saying that now makes me an asshole, because the mistakes I’ve made aren’t exactly minor, and I don’t have the reasons behind them like Dani did.

“You didn’t have to lie to him,” I tell her, stalling. My voice is gruff, and I can almost taste my own fear. Hell, Skye was right to look at me with disgust.

“Did you want me to tell him the truth?” she asks, because she knows why I’m calling. She knows, because on that last day when she hugged me, she pressed a note in the palm of my hand. I waited until I was alone to read it, and I was glad I did.

I know what you do when you think no one sees. I see the emptiness in you, because I’ve lived it. If you ever need a friend, I’m here. Call me.

I destroyed the note, but I stored the number she scribbled at the bottom into my phone. I’ve never used it, never even thought about it, until Skye threw my drug test results in my face. Now I sit here facing the fact that I’ve lost a shot at a good woman because of what I’ve become.

Realistically, I knew it would be hard to get close to Skye with the damned way we met the first time between us. I always suit up. Always. Except for that one night when I was higher than a kite and feeling no pain. Melissa went down on me, and a condom on my cock was the last thing I thought about when she took me into that wet mouth of hers and sucked me like a damn vacuum cleaner.

I rake my hand over the back of my neck and hold it there. Hoping the warmth staves off some of the pain.

“Bull?” Dani questions again and, shit, I wonder how long I’ve had her on the phone, not talking.

“Not really, I guess,” I answer clearing my throat. “I…fuck I don’t know why I’m calling.”

“Yeah you do.”

“Yeah, I guess I do,” I tell her, hating the defeat in my voice.

“It’s good you called, Bull.”

“You think?” I joke, thinking it’s anything but good.

“Yeah, it means you’re tired of falling.”

Falling. Yeah that’s a good term for it.

“So, what now?” I ask her, because I don’t know what I thought she could do from another state away, but I just know I don’t have the first clue of what to do on my own.

“We find you help.”

“I thought that’s what you were supposed to be? My help, I mean.”

“You need meetings, Bull. You need sobriety. I’m an ear and someone who’s been where you’re at right now. I’m a sounding board that’s not here to judge. I’d like to say friend, but I don’t have to be. I can be your sponsor if you’d rather.”

“Sponsor?”

“Yeah, I have one. Though honestly, Zander is my rock these days. Still, there are times when I need to reach out to Leslie.”

I take a deep breath. “So, sponsor, where do we go from here?”

Her voice comes back to me and it’s one word, but I hear her happiness in it, and I hold onto it. She’s a woman who lived without happiness for so long. She had every reason to give up. If she can find it, maybe I can, too.

“Up,” she says. “We go up, Bull.”

I take a breath. Then another. I stand up, grab the bottle, and walk to the large trashcan in front of the elevators. “I want to try,” I tell her and throw the pills in the garbage.

“That’s the hardest step to take, Bull.”

She’s not lying. It does feel that way. I hope this doesn’t end up being another thing I fail at.