Chapter 30
MILES
“Where should I stand, like, up here? Or—?” I take another step up onto Gus’ small gazebo—the Guszebo, I call it, ’cause I’m an absolute cheeseball. “Nah, that’s too high. Feels weird, like I’m Lord Farquaad or something.” I move back down a step.
Gus shoves a mini doughnut in his mouth as he kills the music from the small speaker on the back porch, then gestures for me to go ahead. “Alright,” he mumbles around his bite, “let’s hear your little speech, Lord Fuckwad.”
“Okay, whoa.” I clutch my chest. “Didn’t realize there’d be hecklers at my own party, but alright, alright.”
Gus gives me a shit-eating grin as he jogs down the porch steps, then spins one of the camping chairs around to face me. He sinks down with his back to the fire, uncapping his thermos of hot chocolate.
Strings of golden lights are draped all around Gus’ yard and the gazebo, making it look pretty damn magical back here—and helping me see my audience, who are otherwise backlit by the bonfire.
“Gotta hand it to you guys,” I say, nodding to Jude and Olena, who’ve snuggled up close in a double-wide camping chair, a thick blanket spread across their laps. “This is pretty dope.” I can’t help but check over my brother’s shoulder one last time, toward the back gate.
She’s still not here.
It’s been nine excruciating days since I held her in the ER.
Despite being desperate to see Caroline again, I’ve held off on reaching out, figuring she was stressed and busy with George.
When Gus told me she’d come by the station a couple days ago, my palms started sweating instantly.
And, when he asked if it was cool for her to come tonight, I thought I might throw up. In the best way.
Digging out my speech from my coat pocket, I decide to just go for it. No sense in waiting any longer. Maybe something came up. Or maybe she decided not to come. That second possibility stabs me in the gut.
“I did have a few things I wanted to say.” I take a steadying breath as I unfold the paper, orienting myself, and angle it so I can read in the dim golden light.
“You got this!” Olena calls out.
The reassurance is sweet, but I’m actually pretty good at talking in front of people. The nerves I’m feeling have less to do with the three sets of eyes on me and more to do with the absence of Caroline’s. I glance at the empty camping chair beside Olena and clear my throat.
“In AA,” I start, “the first step is admitting you have a problem. Doing this took me a while. Well, way longer than it should’ve, anyway.
Y’know, no one loves having to admit they’ve lost control and need help.
But I’ve been working hard this past year on being honest. With myself, and with the people I love.
” I flick my gaze to Jude, knowing I owe him a lifetime of honesty and then some for what I’ve put him through.
He ducks his head slightly and Olena slips her arm around his.
It’s then that the gate finally clicks open.
For a moment, my stomach feels suspended in midair, like when you’re going up in an elevator and it overshoots slightly before settling to a stop—like simply seeing Caroline again has fucked with some fundamental law of gravity.
“Hey,” I say. The word is an exhale and her responding smile is all the oxygen I could ever need.
“Hey. Sorry I’m late,” she says, then quickly skirts the fire to find a seat.
“And, shoot, for interrupting.” Even in the darkness, with the light of the fire flickering over her apologetic features as she settles into the chair next to Olena, her presence alone lowers the volume on the sharp static in my head.
Realizing I’m in the middle of my speech, I tear my gaze away and clear my throat, trying to focus on the words in front of me. But, as I scan the page, none of it feels right. With a resigned sigh, I fold the paper up and stuff it back in my pocket.
“I’m actually…” I scrub at the back of my neck. “Uh… I’d written this whole thing, but it’s not…” My eyes reach Caroline’s again. “I know what I wanna say.”
She gives me an encouraging nod.
Just speak from the heart.
“Sobriety has been rough. Messy. Ugly, sometimes. They say one day at a time a lot in AA, but that makes it sound so simple. Linear.” I shake my head. “But not every twenty-four hours is the same. Some days it’s easier, and some days feel… fucking impossible.”
Gus bobs his head, likely remembering all the impossible he’s had to navigate with me lately.
“Thank you feels like a shitty way to cover it. Each of you has shown up for me in so many ways, big and small, to keep me on track, and I’m not exaggerating when I say I wouldn’t be here for this—or maybe not at all—if it weren’t for you.
Gus, you’ve physically dragged me to the gym and forced me to stick to my routine.
I think you’d probably rip my skull open to pour in the happy brain chemicals if you could, but you always seem to find a way to get them there, anyway, whether it’s through lunges or, y’know, musical torture. ”
He laughs and points at me. “Not regretting calling you Fuckwad.” When I smirk, he relaxes back into his seat, lifting his chin. “Just kidding. Love you, man.”
“Olena, my fellow ADHD goblin.” I jump down and jog the couple of steps closer to give her a quick fist bump, then return to the gazebo to continue. “You always make me feel seen. Plus, you make my brother happy, and that’s pretty awesome.”
Jude puts his arm around her and kisses her temple.
“Couldn’t ask for a cooler future sister-in-law,” I add. “And thank you for not baking my cake tonight.”
“You’re welcome,” she says with a serious dip of her head.
“And Jude…” I meet my brother’s eyes and my throat constricts.
“Fuck, man. You’ve been through so much of my shit with me.
I’ve probably given you thousands of reasons to walk away, but you never have.
I dunno if you’re a glutton for punishment or you’re really that patient and forgiving, but uh…
”—I swallow—“Mom and Dad would be so fucking proud of you.”
His brow crumples and I can tell he’s fighting to keep his shit together.
Olena squeezes tight to his side, welling up along with him.
“You’ve all done so much for me. And the honest truth is, it’s still hard as shit sometimes.
I had one of those days recently.” A breeze picks up, the flames from the fire licking over to one side like reeds in a current.
I can’t tell if it’s the wind or the memory of that night making me feel colder.
“About two and a half weeks ago, I came very close to drinking.”
Caroline’s lips part, concern and understanding transforming her features. She must have guessed what I was grappling with over the phone, but the confirmation etches sadness into her features all the same.
“Like, glass-in-my-hand close,” I add. My gaze trips between my brother and Olena, then Gus, catching the same sad expression on each of their faces. It’s not disappointment. Not pity. Not resentment.
It’s compassion. Empathy. Love.
“It’s when you’re at your lowest moment that those old habits really come for you, y’know? And, that night, I was in pain.” I can’t help but look at Caroline when I say it, still not quite believing she’s here. “Unbearable pain.”
She covers her mouth, her fingers trembling.
“More than anything, I just wanted it to stop.”
The fire crackles, breaking the silence.
“But, instead of picking up that glass, I picked up the phone.”
The twist of anguish in my girl’s beautiful eyes is almost too much to bear.
“Caroline… This is gonna sound dramatic as fuck, but you reminded me I have a life worth living. A sober life. A healthy life. A life full of goodness and understanding and acceptance. You reminded me that I can do this. That I have done this and am doing this. That I owe it to myself to keep going. Even when it’s hard, or messy, or it hurts to the point where I think I can’t do it anymore. ”
Olena shifts closer to Caroline and grips her hand, both of them in tears.
“You reminded me that I’m loved. Worthy of love—not broken or hopeless.” I have to pause for a second so I don’t lose my composure entirely. “I’d say you saved me, but what you really did was remind me I had it in me to save myself.”
Caroline rubs at her chest, her gaze briefly falling to her lap. When she lifts her eyes to meet mine again, the light flickers over her tear-streaked cheeks and I nearly break.
“I’m gonna keep going. Keep fighting. For you, so I can be the man you deserve.” I nod to the others and add, “So I can be the brother and the friend you deserve too… But also, and most importantly, I’m gonna keep fighting for myself.”
There’s a tense silence for a beat and awkwardness threatens to creep in.
“Anyway, I guess that’s my speech, so…”
I’m not sure who launches out of their chair first, but it’s Olena who tackles me in a hug as I step down to meet her, followed by a tearful Gus who mutters muffled words into my shoulder—“fuck you for making me cry” and “proud of you” are all I catch.
I turn to Jude, almost unable to look him in the eye as my throat knots up again. He sniffs hard and yanks me into a hug so tight it practically cracks my spine. “Mom and Dad would be so proud of you, too, man.” His voice breaks with emotion. “I know I fuckin’ am. You did this.”
I can’t respond. Can’t find the words to tell him what it means to me to hear him say that. Even if I could, I don’t think I could speak right now if I tried.
When he finally lets go, I have to stop myself from diving straight for Caroline, burying my face in her hair, and telling her exactly what she means to me.
She might have come tonight—and just having her in front of me again might be soothing the bruises left on my heart after the last month—but I need to tell her properly that I’m ready.
That I want this. Want us. Want everything.