Page 115 of Penny For Your Thoughts
“I go to the gym.”
He nodded as though he already expected the answer. “Why?”
For fuck’s sake. Was he listening? We were going around and around, and I hated redundant conversations. “Because of all the reasons I already listed. Can you get to the point?”
He held up his hands in supplication. “What drives you to the gym each morning if not motivation?”
“Dedication. Determination. I may not want to go, but I have to go because if I don’t, I become someone I don’t want to be.”
“You go to ensure your days run smoothly.”
“Yes.”
“To give yourself inner peace.”
“Yes.”
“Because it’s good for your mental health.”
“Yes, for fuck’s sake.”
Aslan nodded. “What if you were as dedicated and determined to stay sober and attend AA meetings as you were to going to the gym? You won’t always want to. There will be days when motivation is gone and a sexy bottle of Jim Beam, or whatever your poison, is within reach, promising pleasures beyond belief. It would be easier to get tanked and forget the world and your troubles, but it would be better for your mental health and well-being if you followed a plan and not your mood. Am I right?”
I snorted, and he smirked.
“Do you ever walk out of the gym and regret that you went?” he asked.
“Never.”
“I promise you. When you fight the craving and say no to the bottle, the next day you will not wake up and regret your decision. It gets easier. I promise.”
It was a bunch of words. Aslan meant well, but the application sounded impossible. Drinking was not the same as working out. Dedication and determination and discipline wouldn’t matter when the itch got under my skin and burned me from the inside out. When my father’s voice wouldn’t leave me alone.
“Think about it. You don’t let yourself give up on the gym, so why do you let yourself give up on this?”
Aslan shoved away from his vehicle and slapped my shoulder. “I can’t do it for you, big guy, but I’m a phone call away when those cravings hit. Reach out next time. Maybe we can pump some iron together until the urge passes.”
Aslan got in his SUV and started the engine. He didn’t pull away. Lowering the window, he added, “There’s another meeting here on Monday night. Text me if you want to go.”
Without waiting for an answer, he drove off.
In the Jeep, I thought about what he said, but couldn’t see the connection he was trying to make. The two didn’t seem related. The concept was not transferable. He was wrong.
The dash clock read ten fifteen. The meeting had run late. I needed to get home and be sure Darcy and Tallus hadn’t killed each other.
I reached for the phone in the cupholder to text my boyfriend and tell him I was on my way, only to discover it wasn’t my phone. It was Darcy’s burner. He must have put it there on the way home from thehospital the previous night. The empty pack of cigarettes occupied the second holder, and Christ, I wanted a smoke.
I patted the inside pocket of my trench coat and located my phone.
Instead of putting Darcy’s back, I used his password to unlock it and wasn’t at all shocked to find a text waiting from none other than Lukyan Andrich.
You’d better hope I don’t find you.
I stared at the message, bubbles of rage forming in my gut as the pitiful image of Darcy in a cast, Darcy curled into a ball on the couch, and Darcy whimpering in pain came to mind.
I tossed the phone on the seat beside me. “Same to you, asshole.”
Using my own device, I shot a text to Tallus.Heading home.Should I grab you a latte and a cookie?After a short hesitation, I added a winky face. Emojis weren’t really my thing, but Tallus used them all the time. I’d been trying them out lately and felt stupid every time I did, but I couldn’t deny that they added a certain levity to the conversation, no matter how irritable my mood.
