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“True. But look how well that turned out in the end.”

He pulled her closer, his lips so close she could smell the mint on his breath, the cedar of his aftershave.

“Couldn’t you go see her on your own? Like you did with my dad?”

“I don’t think it can be just me this time. You’re the one who needs the reading.”

She shuddered.

He squeezed her tighter. “Hey, do you remember when I told you how I had to stop driving because I was too afraid I’d become like that drunk-driving asshole who ran over that poor woman who cursed him?”

“Um…yeah?”

“Well, I never told you how good it felt when I was able to carry around keys again. How proud I felt. How strong and capable and—”

“I know what you’re trying to do.” She pulled away. “And I don’t like it.”

He grinned. “I’m not trying to do anything. I’m just telling you a story. You know how much I love to talk about myself. Big fan of those non sequiturs and all.” His fingers brushed against her cheek, skimming over her freckles, her wrinkles, mapping her imperfections like constellations to admire. “I know it’s intimidating. But this could be it, the break we’ve been looking for. We might get lucky.”

“I don’t get lucky,” she whispered. “Especially not in December.”

“But I do. And you’ll be with me. The holidays have always been lucky for me.”

“How so?”

“For starters, last December was when I finally pulled myself out of a very dark place.”

“Oh, that’s right.” She gave him an encouraging little poke. “Because you’re one year sober.”

“Almost one year sober.”

“Ah, right, sorry. Almost one year.” She grew serious. “Can I ask you what it was like?”

“Getting sober?”

“Yes. But also before. You know.”

“Being a drunk?”

Devra was surprised how lightly he tossed out the sentence. “I suppose, yeah.”

Bradley’s thumb brushed her collarbone, his gaze not quite meeting hers. “It was like being on a roller coaster and not being able to get off. The more I drank, the more I needed to drink. A loop that fed back into itself and was impossible to stop.”

“So how did you, then?” She was interested in Bradley’s story, but she was also realizing that she too was stuck in a similar pattern. That when the curse hurt her and she withdrew from the world, she was hurting herself as well.

He shrugged. “It didn’t happen all at once. There was this girl. A bad breakup. That was sort of the beginning of the end, when I knew I had to get out. It was almost worse after that, knowing what I needed to do and still not being able to do it. But it wasn’t until I forgot my sisters’ birthday that I hit the actual bottom of my downslope.”

“A birthday?” Devra would have expected a more massive, definitive blow. A breakup she could understand—she’d closed herself off after Noah. But forgetting a birthday?

“My sisters’ birthday.” He emphasized the point with two raised brows. “They were so mad.” His tone dipped. “The truth is, they’ve always been there for me. When I was forced to drop out of school, they talked my parents off the ledge, convincing them, or Mom at least, that they should support my journey, never questioning for a single second my actual motives. They saw the best in me, even then. Even now. Even after all my friends disappeared. When I sobered up, I never lost my sisters. Not for a single second. So to have let them down…”

Devra pictured the two women who’d barged into her home earlier, the unstoppable forces of nature they seemed to be, the love they clearly held for their brother.

“I guess when it all came down to it—the thing with the girlfriend, Lana and Sara—I decided it was one thing to be hurting myself, and an entirely different thing to be hurting the people I loved.”

Devra felt a flip in her chest at how Bradley had become this better man not just for himself but for those he cared for.

“After that, the only choice I could possibly make was to get better. But”—he reverted to his usual light tone—“even though I’ve got the cravings under control, my therapist and I still have a lot of work to do.”