CHAPTER 31

west

T he only thing I got out of AA meetings was the fact that I wasn’t the only one going through this shit. The alcohol part, not everything else. I didn’t talk and wasn’t sure I ever wanted to. Bobby gave me the Big Book , which I was supposed to read, but every time I tried, I had a panic attack. I never made it past the first page or two.

All of this was too much change too fucking quickly. I struggled to stay afloat, which felt like the complete opposite of what this fucking program was supposed to do.

To my credit, I didn’t drink. I fucking wanted to, but I didn’t. So maybe that was something.

Bobby was far nicer than I deserved. Every meeting he was there greeting me beforehand and checking in afterward. He talked. I listened. It worked for us—at least I thought it did. Eventually, I’d probably have to do some kind of talking, but I wasn’t there yet. The idea of it made me want to run. Or hit something. It depended on the day .

Instead of a quick conversation at the back door, Bobby invited me out to dinner. While I wasn’t hungry, I wasn’t ready to return to the ranch yet, so I followed him down the road to a small diner.

“How are you doing?” Bobby asked when the waiter left. I started to shrug but stopped myself. Shrugging never got me fucking anywhere with him. It wasn’t that he was pushy in any way, but he had this tendency to just wait me out until I was so uncomfortable that I started talking. It was a horrible fucking gift that he used to his advantage.

“I’m okay enough,” I said. “Don’t feel as crappy.”

“But still not hungry?” he replied. I didn’t blame him, considering I hadn’t ordered food. But I didn’t know how to explain that I’d gone years without eating much, so I just never ate much. Food had always been scarce. I was good at one meal a day or a few snacks because I was used to it.

“Not really,” I muttered. “But that’s nothing new.”

“It’ll catch up to you,” he told me knowingly. “The first few weeks or so can really knock you on your ass.”

“Yeah.” That was the understatement of the fucking century. I couldn’t count the number of times I was tempted to go right back to drinking just so I’d feel better. At least when I was drunk, I didn’t feel like I was fucking dying nearly as much as I did lately.

“Have you thought about who you want as a sponsor?” he continued, and I frowned. What the hell were he and I doing if not exactly that? Fuck, did I have to talk to someone else?

“Can’t you just be my sponsor?” I replied. The thought of getting to know another fucking person wasn’t appealing. Not that Bobby and I knew each other either, but it was better than nothing. “Is that a fucking option? I don’t know how this shit works.”

“I can be if that’s what you want,” Bobby said. “But I will be honest and say that I have some reservations about doing so.”

Fuck.

“I’d like to revisit the idea of ninety meetings in ninety days with you,” he replied. I resisted rolling my eyes. I couldn’t do ninety days straight of this shit. I didn’t have it in me. The people. The people fucking drove me to the brink of panic .

“I can’t with my job,” I said, using the same excuse I did the first time. It wasn’t a total lie. I had a hard time believing that Jackson would let me run my schedule wild for ninety days of meetings, even if he was overly helpful.

“Those first ninety days are crucial, West. Newcomers often find that they need the most support in the first ninety days. I know you’re at two meetings a week right now, but I think it’d be smart to add in at least another meeting or two a week to keep you going.”

“I just can’t get it in with my job,” I reiterated. He nodded slowly, and I could tell he didn’t approve of my choice.

“So, let me ask you something,” Bobby began slowly, “and know that this comes from a place of observation. There is no judgment here.”

I made a sound, already hating whatever the hell he was going to say.

“Do you live out of your truck?” he asked. “I ask because I’ve worked with a lot of people in different living situations, and there are signs—”

“I have a fucking place to stay,” I snapped. “Sort of.”

“Can I ask what sort of means?”

“I live with the horses I work with.”

“So, you live in a barn.”

“A stable,” I corrected. Like that was any better to most people.

“Okay.” He paused as the waiter dropped off his food as well as another glass of water for me. When we were alone, he said, “This comes from a place of understanding because I’ve been there, West, but stability is the key to you working this program successfully. Wanting it is important but stability is everything if you want to make real progress. Without it, relapse is a lot closer than you might realize.”

Nothing about that surprised me. I wouldn’t know stability if it hit me in the fucking face. I was used to laying low, panicking with every change, and just dealing with all the crap life threw at me. Hell, life on the ranch was probably the closest thing to stable I’d had since prison. I may have been sleeping with the goddamn horses, but at least I had a routine to follow. That part felt good—or at least as close to feeling good as I could get.

“Yeah,” I whispered, not knowing what else to say.

”I know some programs that are great for helping people get back on their feet if you need help.”

“I don’t need help.” I was so tired of everyone thinking I did.

“Learning to accept help takes quite a bit of courage,” Bobby said. “It makes us stronger.”

“Are you a walking motivational poster?” I demanded. We were navigating a little too close to shit I didn’t want to talk about or deal with.

“I have a whole collection of them.” He grinned, undeterred by my attitude. “Let’s get you through your first ninety days and I’ll give you a motivational poster.”

“I don’t want one,” I replied. And where the hell would I hang one anyway? The horses wouldn’t give a fuck about some goddamn motivational poster. Neither did I. “Does that mean you’ll be my fucking sponsor?”

“Yeah, we’re going to get you through this, West,” he told me. “One day at a time.”

“One day at a time,” I repeated under my breath. One miserable fucking day at a time.