4
It took six weeks and dozens of coffees for him to let his guard down and keep it down. By then, she had grown so used to teasing him and intentionally making him uncomfortable that she felt as though they were truly friends rather than just sponsor and sponsee. While he still scowled at her inappropriate jokes, he’d lost that hard edge. Sometimes, he even joked back. She looked forward to those moments. And, though he’d never admit it, she could tell he felt the same. Getting to know him and his personal struggle with addiction had strengthened parts of her she didn’t even know were weak. Nobody could ever replace Amy as her best friend, period, but Jen now considered Ash a close second despite their rocky beginning.
She’d had to text and call him more times than she cared to admit when she’d been on the verge of breaking her vow. And, each time, his stern, steady voice had talked her down from her ledges. He’d become her safety net, but she was beginning to feel like she could walk the tightrope on her own. She would always need support, of course, but the confidence she’d gained from the experience was worth more to her than barrels of gold.
Or whiskey.
Chuckling, she jogged onto the sidewalk and headed into Roust. The act was so familiar now that it almost felt like going home. Chatter and the bitter, beautiful smell of coffee greeted her as she walked inside, and she bypassed the counter, heading straight for their booth. Ashley was waiting, as usual, with his back turned to her, his broad shoulders stiff. She smiled wickedly, knowing he would scold her for being late and that, in turn, she would scold him for being obnoxious. It was what they did. He would try to maintain his glare, but he wouldn’t be able to, and satisfaction would soar through her because she’d made the stone man grin.
“What’s cooking, good looking?” she asked, sinking into the booth and shaking the wind out of her hair with her fingers. She’d driven there with the windows down, blasting Madonna and singing along at the top of her lungs, and she had the hoarse voice and tangled hair to prove it.
“Hey,” he said, sliding her Golden Cream Bitter across the table.
She accepted it with satisfaction. Normally, she bought her own, but last week, he’d insisted on getting the next round because it was her birthday. Which made today doubly special. Not only was she officially thirty-one years old—her favorite number—but she had finally saved up the three hundred dollars she owed him. And, after coffee, he was introducing her to his daughter—something Jen was both excited about and intimidated by. Today would be a good day.
She sipped the icy, delicious coffee, which had become her favorite thing to drink in the entire world despite its astronomical price tag. “Happy birthday to me.”
He gazed at her a moment, an unreadable expression on his face, then he cleared his throat. “We need to talk.”
Here we go. She set down her coffee, ready to spar. “Did that giant stick get lodged in your ass again? One of these days, you’ll need an excavation team to get it removed.”
His mouth quirked, but he schooled it into place. He hesitated, glancing out the window and dragging his hand down his short beard.
Jen sobered, worry tingling inside her. “What’s wrong?” she demanded. “Is it Sara? Did you relapse?”
He looked as straight as he ever did, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. She’d been so focused on her own sobriety, she hadn’t considered that he might slip himself. Probably because he appeared so strong and dedicated that the idea of him backsliding was unfathomable.
“No. Nothing like that,” he said, shaking his head and looking torn. “I can’t be your sponsor anymore.”
For a moment, Jen just stared at him. And then she laughed. “What?”
“I mean it,” he said, and his tone indicated that he very much did. “After today, you’ll need to find another.”
Stunned, her heart pounded. “You’re serious.”
He looked down into his own black coffee, his jaw clenching. “Yes.”
A million thoughts raced through her head. What had she done to make him come to this decision? Not only had she thought they made a great sponsor and sponsee team, but she’d thought they were friends. Before her mouth ran away with her, though, she tried to give him the benefit of the doubt. “Are you moving? Are you dying? Are you planning to get abducted by aliens?”
This time, his mouth remained a hard line. “No.”
“Then why?”
He took a deep breath, his knuckles white around the mug. “I just can’t. Not anymore.”
She didn’t know which emotion to pay attention to. Fear for her sobriety, misery that he didn’t want to continue their relationship, or fury that he’d decided to drop the bomb on her birthday. Or maybe the timid, trembling emotion that she hadn’t even realized was there until now. One that took her breath away.
Oh, God.
She was falling for him. She had fallen for him. To drive the point home, all the reasons why began flooding in. Their talks, their arguments, their shared struggles, their common goals. The way her tactless humor never failed to draw a reluctant laugh or grin from him. The way he loved his daughter. The passion in his voice when he spoke of his career. He was everything Jen had never known she’d wanted. Yes, he was a bull-headed pain in her ass, but he was also honest and loyal and decent. And it didn’t help that he was curl-your-toes sexy. Try as she might, Jen couldn’t forget about the night they’d spent together seven years ago. He’d moved on, clearly, and had put it behind him, but every time he looked at her, she remembered. The last thing she wanted or needed was love, but she couldn’t deny that, all this time, part of her had wanted to wake the man she’d met back then. That wild, hungry, sleeping man. She realized now that she’d subconsciously taken on the impossible task of tearing down his walls. She’d never want him to risk his sobriety, but he had a life to live, too. Turns out, she was the wrong person to help him live it.
“Is this about Sara?” she asked, the thought striking a hollow chord in her. “Did you change your mind about me meeting her?”
During the past weeks, he’d talked about his daughter so much that Jen felt like she already knew her. So when he’d invited Jen to one of Sara’s softball games, Jen had been honored. That the world’s most protective dad had deemed her worthy had meant a lot to her. It had also scared the hell out of her. When it came to children—daughters in particular—Jen’s emotions had always been raw. Every time she looked at a young girl, she was reminded of the one she’d lost. The idea that maybe he’d had second thoughts about her meeting Sara cut like a knife.
When he hesitated, Jen’s heart shriveled, and she rose. “It’s good to know where I stand.”
He cursed. “Jen, wait. That’s not—”
“You’re an addict, too. Don’t forget that,” she said, her voice unsteady. “The next time you decide not to bring one around your daughter, you should look in the mirror.” She pulled the envelope of cash from her back pocket and tossed it on the table. “Here’s your money. We’re even.”
Then she walked away.