29. Zane

29

ZANE

"This is an open meeting, but you really don't have to come if you don't want to." I squeeze Mira's hand as we walk down the stairs. "Evan is just outside. He can take you back to the condo. I'll go by myself."

"Zane." Mira pulls me to a stop. She's a step ahead of me, our eyes almost on the same level. "I want to come with you. Please don't be nervous."

"I'm not nervous." She arches a brow, and I drop my head to her shoulder. "Fuck. Fine. I haven't been this nervous for a meeting since my first one. I've only ever gone to these by myself."

"Well, I'm happy to be your first." She gives me a teasing smile. "But if you don't want me here, then I can leave. It's up to?—"

I yank her forward, catching her with a kiss.

She hums contentedly against my mouth and my hand slides over the curve of her waist, across her hip. I pull her against me, pressing her where I want her until?—

"You're at the wrong building," someone croaks from way too close.

I snatch Mira around the waist and haul her down to my step before I realize we've been caught by a woman half my height and three times my age.

The old woman takes a shaking step down the stairs to get past us. "Sex Addicts Anonymous is at the Greek Orthodox church down the block." With that, the woman leaves, her witchy cackle floating back to us as she wobbles away.

Once she's down the stairs, Mira laughs against my neck. "How does she know where sex addicts meet?"

"Don't ask questions you don't want the answer to."

I grab her hand and lead her into the dingy church basement full of addicts.

Folding chairs have been set up in a circle. As opposed to most meetings I attend first thing in the morning before practice, almost every seat is full. Mira and I have to squeeze between a middle-aged couple in matching striped shirts and a young guy FaceTiming with a woman who looks old enough to be his mom.

"Do you want any coffee?" I point to the refreshments table. "It's actually pretty good. Caffeine is the only drug we're allowed, so we know how to do it right."

"That's okay. Now that we're here, I'm nervous," she admits. "I don't know what this will be like."

Before I can prep her, the secretary for this meeting stands up and opens up the proceedings. They pass the donation plate to collect enough money to pay for the cookies and coffee—I toss in everything in my wallet. Then the first speaker reads from the Big Book.

When he's done, he lowers the book and raises a hand. "Hi, my name is Dan. I'm an alcoholic and I just had my second sober birthday last week."

People clap, including Mira.

He tells his story of addiction and betrayal and then opens the floor to the rest of us.

The couple next to us share the woman's addiction and the way it affected her husband. The guy next to me holds up his phone so his mom can tell the room—with her spotty internet connection—how proud she is of her son for coming clean to her and being sober for the last twelve days. When I glance over, Mira is dabbing at her eyes.

Halfway through the meeting, I stand up.

I don't have time to think about it before all eyes are on me. "Hey. My name is Zane. I'm an addict, and I've been clean for four—well, free from drugs for over four years." I scratch the back of my head, trying to ignore the shame swirling in my gut. Then I feel Mira's knee brush against the back of my calf and it dissipates. "I haven't had a drink for three months, and I plan to keep it that way. But we all know how that goes."

Self-deprecating laughter ripples through the room, and I already feel more at home. Like it or not, these are my people. Their scars match mine.

"Yeah, so, I haven't told my story in a while. I did a lot at the beginning because it's all I could think about. How it all started and how I never wanted to go back there. Then, over time, it all got kind of hazy. I felt… different. Better. I sat back and let other people talk. Then I stopped coming, and… Anyway, I'm back and I thought I'd share."

There's another soft round of applause before I begin.

"For me, it started with a girl and party drugs. My ex had been in and out of the program a few different times before she met me, though I didn't know that at the time. I thought we were just having some fun, but pretty soon, our ‘fun' turned into week-long benders, which turned into a high I rarely came down from. I was using as often as I could, as much as I could handle. More than once, I couldn't handle it. I almost OD'd three different times."

Mira lets out a soft gasp. Then her leg is a steady presence against mine. Like she needs the contact as much as I do.

"Eventually, there was an accident," I breathe. "I was fine, but my best friend… He lost his leg. I made choices that didn't ruin my life; they ruined someone else's. That's when it all clicked for me. I cleaned myself up and spent the next few years staying sober, but always feeling like I was one slip up away from being the person I used to be. Then—Then I met my son."

I spare the group the made-for-TV drama of Paige keeping Aiden a secret until after she died. The group is, by definition, anonymous, but I don't want the gritty details of Aiden's life leaking out without his consent.

"I met my son and things fell into place. I wanted to be sober for him. And then I met the woman I love, and I wanted to be sober for her, too." Mira's leg gives a reassuring little nudge against my calf. "When I was in my darkest place, I didn't think it was possible to feel like this. I was convinced that I wasn't made for something as soft as love. But now, I know that it's that soft kind of love that makes you strong. I've never felt steadier. I'm not just living for myself anymore; I'm living for them. I want to be the best version of myself so I can get even sort of close to being worthy of the people I have in my life."

When I sit down, Mira is wiping her eyes. She twines her fingers through mine and doesn't let go the rest of the meeting.

When it wraps up, we walk back up the stairs hand-in-hand. We're heading to Evan's SUV parked down the block when Mira suddenly tugs me into an alley.

I'm about to tease her and say we might need to hit up that meeting at the Orthodox church, after all, but then I see her face. The yellow security light behind the church brushes her in harsh shadow. Her brows are pinched together and her tongue wets her lower lip.

Her hands fist in the front of my shirt, and I don't say anything, giving her a second to think.

Finally, she blows out a breath. "Losing my mom broke my dad. He always had a drinking problem, but when she left… he had nowhere to hide. Whatever front he'd been putting on for people of a happy wife and a happy home were gone, and he was exposed. It's when things got really bad for us."

Her voice breaks, and I wrap my arms low around her waist, holding her close.

"I can see now, looking back, how scared Dante must have been, too. Our dad never hurt him, but first, it was my mom. When she left, it was me. Somewhere in his head, my brother must have thought that he'd be next. Maybe that's why he—" She shakes her head. "Maybe if our father had gotten sober—gotten help— Dante wouldn't have turned into the monster he became. Maybe we could have been something like a happy family, if there is such a thing."

I curl my palm around her cheek, stroking away a single tear. "There is such a thing."

I know because we have it.

Right now.

Right here.

Mira gives me a sad smile. "Thinking that we might have been able to figure our shit out and love each other helps me sometimes. Because thinking that my family falling to pieces was inevitable is… It's too fucking bleak. I don't want to live in a world where there was only one ending for us. I want possibilities."

I want to give her those possibilities. As many as she wants.

"But when I sat there and watched my dad fall apart after my mom left—when I watched my brother fall in line with what my dad wanted him to be because he was terrified of the alternative—I swore to myself that I wouldn't depend on anyone else to survive. Because being dependent turned my dad and my brother into monsters, and I didn't want the same thing to happen to me."

"It couldn't," I whisper, kissing her wet cheek. "You're too good, Mira. It never would have happened to you."

"I wanted to take care of myself because then I'd be my own responsibility. I wouldn't get hurt by another person or be the person doing the hurting. It was easier to be alone, until…" She looks up at me from under wet lashes. "Until it wasn't. Until you."

I meet her eyes and say nothing. It's not my turn to speak. It's hers.

"It's so fucking scary to love you this much. But I think…" She swipes her sleeve across her nose. "I finally realize that it's not that I can't depend on people—it's that I have to depend on the right people. And you're the right kind of person, Zane. The best kind of person."

She draws in one more shuddering breath, glances away, glances back at me.

"Which is why I need to tell you something."

Her voice trails away as her eyes do. She's looking down at the pavement, and I can feel her shaking.

"Mira…"

"I should have told you right away, but I didn't want to hurt you. Or scare you. Or myself, honestly." She shakes her head. "I didn't want to tell you because I didn't want to make it real."

My heart is in my stomach. I grip her chin, forcing her eyes to mine. "Tell me. Now."

"Dante," she whispers. "He found me. At the gym. There was a note in my?—"

I drop her face and grab my phone. I dial the P.I.'s number by memory. It goes to voicemail, and I'm not supposed to leave a message, but fuck him. "He's on fucking top of her. You should have known. Find him. Now."

When I hang up, Mira grabs the phone out of my hand and wraps her fingers around mine. Now, it's my hand that is shaking.

"I told Evan. I should have told you, but I told Evan at the party. He's looking into the security footage at the gym. Please d-don't be mad." Her chin wobbles.

"I'm furious, Mira. Fucking furious." I cradle her face in my hands, holding her like she's fragile. Because she is. "Not at you, though. At him . At myself. He got close to you, and I wasn't there. He was so close and?—"

"I'm fine." Her hands wrap around mine. Her fingers are cold. "I'm okay."

The bone-deep need to be inside of her burns through me, and I know I won't be able to relax until I can feel her. Until I can prove to myself that she's here and alive.

So I haul her against me, our lips crashing together in the dark alley.

When I pull away, it's only because I need to get her home. Because I haven't even started with her yet. "He isn't going to hurt you. I won't let him."

She stretches onto her toes for one last kiss. "I know."