“I went to Astral Motion.”

“Alone?”

I shook my head, balling up the napkin and tossing it on the table. “No. With a group of people. You don’t know them. Well, not all of them.”

“So, I know some of them?” Duncan asked, amused.

I pulled my Styrofoam cup of Diet Coke toward me. “You know one. Micah.”

At this, Duncan’s eyebrows flew upward. “I didn’t know y’all knew each other.”

“We didn’t. I mean, not before a month ago. We met at the party Destiny threw for Jonah’s grand opening.”

Of course, my brain took this opportunity to remember that night I’d met Micah, the way he took my breath away the first time I saw him. How he took me back to his apartment and turned me inside out. I sucked down my drink to cool off the heat on my face.

“Ah,” Duncan said, with a tone of understanding, and that only made me want to bury myself alive even more.

“It’s nothing serious,” I said, but it felt all wrong to say that, like I was lying. Maybe it’d started that way, but it didn’t feel like much of a hookup anymore. But I didn’t want to go making assumptions and an ass of myself in the process.

“That’s okay,” Duncan said, and I knew he meant it. “Did you have fun?”

“Yeah, for the most part. There was this chick I used to party with who saw me there and offered me some stuff. I didn’t take it, of course.”

“I figured.”

I began to bat the napkin back and forth between my hands. “Yeah, well, that’s cool you have that much faith in me, but I didn’t until that moment. Like, I’ve been clean for five years, and I still worry that it’s a possibility.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being vigilant. That’s why you have a support network in case it does come up or you’re thinking about it. But it shouldn’t stop you from trying new things or doing things you used to do every once in a while.”

“See, you say that, but how many people have we seen at work that fall off the wagon?” I said, slapping my hand over the balled-up napkin. “I’m not much different than them.”

“But what about the people who come and work at Sunrise and then never touch drugs again? Ever think maybe you’re like them?”

That was a tough one. Duncan had said that to me before, countless times. For a long time, I didn’t think that I had much going for me outside of keeping myself above water. Then Micah came crashing into my life and made me feel alive for the first time in five years.

“No, I hadn’t, but maybe I should,” I whispered, too scared to say it any louder in fear that this moment would shatter.

“I’m really proud of you, Nik,” Duncan said, hazel eyes shiny, his voice holding emotion I’d never heard before.

I pushed his sandwich basket at him and cleared my throat. “Let’s finish this up because someone’s put me in charge of the new hires. Which, still ain’t sure if it’s for me, but that’s a convo for another day.”

“I look forward to it,” Duncan said with a laugh.

We finished our lunch and headed back to Sunrise. Duncan talked about some waterfall that he and Chance found when they went on a hike during their weekend away and about a pretty outlook they’d found together.

It was nice to get away for a bit. But when we got back, Walt had called and left a message saying he wouldn’t be able to make it to work on Wednesday.

I checked my phone to see if he’d texted me back, and he hadn’t. I wasn’t really the praying type, but I took a moment to put out as much energy as I could into the universe, hoping that wherever Walt was, he could remember he wasn’t alone.

MICAH

My Sundays had lost purpose.

Due to a charity event taking place in our usual spot for the support group, we had to squeeze into a smaller, musty room with a faulty window air conditioner that wheezed and sputtered, struggling to provide any relief from the heat. We couldn’t even move without bumping into each other and leaving a lingering stickiness on our skin.

That was paradise compared to listening to the same questions week after week, from people looking for explanations when there weren’t any to give, begging for solutions to problems that would never go away. The few who had already accepted everything sat here to find how to live with it.

I’d been searching everywhere for how to get through to Ada, grasping at straws for someone to give me an answer. And like all the people here, I had nothing but tears, sleepless nights, and heartbreak.

Sweat dripped down my back as we all stood, linking our clammy hands in a tight circle, the therapist joining last. We locked hands, and a buzzing tingle stomped along my scalp, shooting pain into my teeth.

With a nod, the therapist said, “You did not cause it.”

Everyone repeated it, but I didn’t. I couldn’t speak a lie and pretend it was truth. My responsibility taunted me, and the humiliation swelled inside of me like a geyser, clogged my lungs of breath, and blurred my eyes with tears.

“You cannot control it.”

Guilt sloshed in my gut, and it ignited the fury I’d been forcing into hibernation. Anger at Ada for refusing my help, anger at my parents for giving up, and anger at all the people who put harm in Ada’s life.

Anger at myself for giving a shit.

“You cannot cure it.”

Hands and knuckles and elbows hit me as I rushed out, ignoring questions of worry. I swiped at my cheeks, sucked in another half breath. It was barely enough to break me out of the house and onto the front lawn.

Outside, the sun turned the lawn into a reflective shield, leaving me disoriented. I scrambled to get my sunglasses on. Disoriented, I did a half spin, catching volunteers setting up the potluck, the screechy voices of kids setting up a round of kickball, and the smoky scent of barbecue burning my nose.

I rubbed my stomach to stop myself from hurling on the lawn. Finally, through a wiggling heat wave that had settled over the grass, I found the parking lot. Swiping my fingers through my sweaty hair, I swallowed hard and set a path forward, keeping my eyes on my feet to stave off a sudden wave of motion sickness.

It wasn’t until I practically knocked someone over that I realized that my plan was flawed. My hands flew up to grab hold of the person that’d tripped into my arms, an apology stuttering out of my mouth.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to⁠—”

“Naw, it’s cool, bro⁠—”

My body reacted before I could fully register what was happening. I’d recognize those eyes anywhere.

“Hey, I didn’t know you’d be here today. I was just about to call you,” Nik said, his face lighting up. But even the sight of his pretty smile did nothing to assuage the pain I felt in my bones, and his face fell immediately. “Something happened to Ada.”

He said it with confidence, like he thought that was the only possibility. I shook my head and waved my hands, hoping that my crappy attempt at emotional charades made at least a modicum of sense.

Nik circled his arm around my waist and pulled me close. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” he said as he guided us away from the noise.

Shame coiled with my sorrow. Couldn’t I have lasted a few more minutes before I darted out of that support group? Right now, it was easy to say that I wouldn’t be back, but I knew it wouldn’t last. I knew I’d continue to fight for Ada for as long I lived.

Nik and I ended up on the opposite side of the house, toward a secret corner where two chairs and a table sat tucked under a large tree. I sat down, tossed my sunglasses on the table, and scrubbed my face.