But I don't drink.
One day at a time, sometimes one hour at a time, I don't drink.
Not a single fucking drop.
And slowly, painfully, like a wound healing from the inside out, I start to believe that maybe I'm not as broken as I thought. Maybe the voices in my head that sound like Henderson were wrong all along.
Maybe there's a chance I do deserve love. Not because I've earned it, but because everyone deserves it just for being human.
Even me.
Chapter 49: Ivan
Six weeks after Jay's first AA meeting, I'm standing on the front porch watching the road like my life depends on it. My stomach is in knots. I've been up since dawn, unable to sleep, running through every possible scenario in my head.
What if Jay changes his mind halfway here and turns back? What if Rosalyn doesn't like him? What if the kids scare him off? What if this whole thing is a terrible mistake?
Then I hear the motorcycle before I see it.
The sound starts as a distant rumble, low and growing, getting louder as it gets closer. My heart kicks up, pounding against my ribs. Then Jay rounds the corner on his bike, the morning light catching the chrome and making it shine. He pulls into the driveway smoothly and cuts the engine, and for a moment he just sits there, staring at the house.
I can see the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands grip the handlebars just a little too tight. I'm down the porch steps and rushing to him before he can take off his helmet.
"You made it," I say, grinning like an absolute idiot, unable to contain the joy. "You actually came to see me."
"Two hours and twelve minutes," Jay says, pulling off the helmet with shaking hands. He runs a hand through his flattened hair, trying to fix it. "Traffic wasn't bad once I got out of Macon. The highway was pretty clear."
"How was the ride?"
"Terrifying on the interstate." He swings his leg over the bike and stands, stretching his back, rolling his shoulders. "But I'm more scared now that I'm here. What if they hate me? What if I say the wrong thing or do something stupid?"
"Trust me, they're not going to hate you."
"What if Rosalyn takes one look at me and decides I'm not good enough for you? Because she'd be right, you know. She'd be completely right."
"Hey." I step closer and take his face in both my hands, making him look at me. "None of that. No more of that crazy talk. You're working through the plan. That already proves everything to me."
He takes a shaky breath, his dark eyes searching mine. "Okay, I can do this."
"You absolutely can." I kiss him quickly, tasting his nervousness, then force myself to step back. "Come on in. They're waiting inside. Mitchell got called into a job today, but everyone else is here. Rosalyn's been cooking since six this morning."
"She didn't have to do that. I told you I didn't want to be any trouble."
"You're not trouble. You're important. There's a huge difference. I think Rosalyn wants to impress you too."
Rosalyn is in the kitchen when we come through the front door, wiping her hands on a dish towel, the smell of something delicious filling the entire house. She looks up as we enter, and I watch her take in Jay for the first time—the worn leather jacket that's seen better days, the motorcycle boots, the dark eyes that are trying hard to hide his anxiety.
I can see her cataloging every detail the way she does with everyone new. The way he stands slightly behind me like he's using me as a shield. The way his hands keep fidgeting with the zipper on his jacket. The way he can't quite meet her eyes directly.
"Rosalyn, this is Jay," I say. "Jay, this is Rosalyn. My foster mom. The woman who took me in."
Rosalyn crosses the kitchen slowly and extends her hand. "I've heard a lot about you, Jay. It's nice to finally put a face to the name."
"Thank you for having me, ma'am." Jay shakes her hand, being almost painfully polite. "Ivan talks about you all the time. About you and Mitchell and the kids. It's all he talks about, honestly."
"All good things, I hope." She smiles back at him.
"Nothing but. He says you make the best food in Georgia and that you never once made him feel like he was a burden. I want to personally thank you for that. For taking care of him when nobody else would."
