My hands froze, stopping the wooden duck’s dance.

“Chance handles new hires.”

“He does, but how do you feel about handling new hires?”

Twisting my mouth to the side, I hesitated. A random opportunity was rare in my life, but I always felt like I was toeing the line between good and bad. Right and wrong.

Clean or high.

I carefully set the wooden duck back on the corner of Chance’s desk and adjusted its profile to show its crooked lines. I flicked my eyes up to Duncan. “Sounds like it should come with a pay raise.”

Duncan smirked. “It does. The thing is, Chance wants to get back into the workshop again, and he can’t do that when he’s here. So, what do you say?”

Well, so much for quitting. This was a change, so the least I could do was try it, especially since Duncan asked. He was the one there for me when I was lost in my addiction, the one guy I could call after waking up in a random place totally strung out. He got me into programs at the Collective to find the best rehabs, and I walked out on every one of them until the one time I didn’t.

After five years of being clean, he was still around. Chance too. They were my family. And now, Duncan hit me up with a promotion and a pay raise, but that would mean I’d still be bound to this place.

“I’ll think about it,” I said, not willing to disappoint him right away. I pushed myself off the wall and headed to the door but stopped when Duncan cleared his throat and kicked Chance’s chair out from under the desk.

“Hey, where’s the rush? Let’s chat for a bit.”

Narrowing my eyes at Duncan in suspicion, I nodded to the chair. “Am I getting paid to chat?”

“Of course. I need a break from being a businessman, and you’re doing me a favor.” Duncan rolled himself over to his fancy coffee machine and started up a fresh cup. He tapped a mug in offering, and I shook my head. Duncan went back to preparing his drink. “So, how’s the new place?”

“Really good. The neighbors are chill,” I said, which was true. It was nice to have a place to call my own and be able to afford it, but I still couldn’t meet his eyes.

Duncan nudged at the wheel of Chance’s chair. “But?”

I shrugged. “But nothing. Things are good. Really good. I keep to my schedule. Go to work, sit in my support groups, show up for therapy. Picked up pottery, which is a hobby I’d never guessed I’d like. It’s just . . .” I glanced at Duncan for a moment before I huffed a humorless laugh. “Where’s the group that talks about how being clean can be boring as fuck?”

“I wish I knew,” Duncan said, his voice calm and smooth. It was what I deemed his Mentor Voice. He’d been one for more than enough people, including me and quite a few who worked on the floors of his business. No matter how many times I heard it, I always felt at ease. “Maybe taking on this responsibility will help shake things up for you a bit. Give you something else to look forward to.”

Duncan always had a million ideas for me, and I rolled my eyes, but the smile playing on my lips won. He wouldn’t quit until I gave him an answer.

The door busted open, and Duncan’s cousin Destiny barged into the office. She always showed up at a place like that—like she was breaking into a house with a SWAT team, forgetting the importance of a good knock.

She was in her work uniform, her long black hair clipped up halfway. She flicked a finger flicked between Duncan and me and said, “I have to talk to both of you.”

We shared a smirk as we waited, watching Destiny take her sweet-ass time trying to figure out who to talk to first. Eventually, she turned to me and said, “I need to pick up my order box. Is it ready yet?”

I nodded. “Got it all set up for you. Just need to grab it from the back.”

“You’re my favorite.” Destiny said like it was a vow, but she said that about as often as she called people baby in her pretty southern accent.

“And I want to remind everyone tomorrow’s Jonah’s new restaurant’s grand opening, so y’all better be there.” She kept the bobbing finger going at Duncan and me. “It’s gonna be enormous fun, and I talked Jonah into having a specialty cocktail list.”

An uncomfortable chill ticked down my spine. Destiny’s parties were infamous for being bangers where lots of people got pretty wild. Bars and booze were fine with me, and I’d been to a Destiny party before. But Jonah’s newest restaurant was in Old City. The thought of being anywhere near that place, and at night, made my stomach twist so hard spit filled my mouth with the threat of choking up my breakfast.

“I’ll text you,” Duncan said, saving me from digging myself into this conversation’s grave.

Destiny made us both promise we’d be there or she’d have our hides, then left with a flourish. I counted to a hundred and twenty before I was able to take a breath. Every time I was around her, her intensity knocked the wind out of me.

“I gotta get back to the inventory before someone goes and takes their fifth smoke break,” I said, heading for the door. “You should really implement a rule about that shit.”

“Under normal circumstances, I would, but if the worst thing people are doing when they’re feeling itchy is smoking, then I’ll take it,” Duncan said as he stood up and reached for the doorknob. “Just so you know, Dessie’s very careful about the type of people she keeps around,” he said, stopping me from rushing to the back again. “Jonah too. The party will be a safe space.”

“I know.” While I knew people drank and had a good time at Destiny parties, they weren’t totally out of control. Fact was, being sober and around drunk people was annoying as hell. “Her party isn’t what freaks me out, though.”

Duncan rested his hand on my shoulder and squeezed it. “Old City isn’t like it used to be. I understand your history with the area, but it’s changed. They’ve done a lot to it since the stadium was built.”

I trusted Duncan with my life, but he didn’t know that new businesses and fresh paint wouldn’t push people away from the hot spots. Those places were here to stay.

“If you say so.”

“It’s okay to live a little,” he said with a softness that made my chest ache. God, all he wanted me to do was go to a stupid party. The least I could do was let myself be uncomfortable for an hour.

I stared at my hand on the knob, the way the light reflected off its polished silver. It felt cool against my palm. If there was anyone’s word I trusted, it was Duncan’s. “Okay, I’ll go. But don’t be shocked if I leave early.”

I gave him the barest hint of a smile. Duncan squeezed my shoulder and said, “One step forward.”

MICAH

For some unfathomable reason, my sister possessed a keen ability to call while tweaking and when my micromanaging prick of a supervisor was nearby.

“Ada,” I said, pushing her name through my clenched teeth. “I’m at work, and I have to hit the road. I can’t go to the bank for you.”

In response, Ada belted out a piercing sob that punched my eardrum with such force I couldn’t help but pull my phone away. I darted a glance over my shoulder, knowing if this call attracted attention, I’d be unemployed because micro dick would assume I was jerking off on the clock.

My sister also possessed a keen ability to call while tweaking when there was a crowd.

“Our landlord is going to evict us,” Ada said through a garbled mess of tears. I half listened to the rest of her story as I skirted around several trucks to duck out of view from wandering eyes.

Ada didn’t sense my silence as anything alarming and continued speaking a mile a minute. “But I need your help. Just this one time, I swear. We found a place we can go, but we’re short a couple hundred bucks, and⁠—”

“I thought you wanted to keep your current place.”

“I do, I do, I do. But we’re just a little short. Micah, I promise, I’m really trying, okay? I really am.”

It’d only been two weeks since I’d pulled her out of some slum trailer and brought her back to our apartment to clean her up and feed her. She’d barely stayed for three hours before she was back on the streets, scoring another load. I scrubbed a hand over my face.

“I’m already putting my ass on the line by taking this call,” I said, grabbing a random box from my truck and stumbling to the smoker’s table to give the illusion I wasn’t fucking off from work. It was far enough away that no one could eavesdrop but still had a good view of the loading area. Work was too chaotic for anyone to chance a smoke break. “Last thing I need to be dealing with is Mom bugging me to go work for her friend’s friend, filling out envelopes, and filing patient folders all fucking day.”

Ada carried on with the rambling, and I was left inhaling the thick scent of the truck’s diesel exhaust. It was suffocating. Even the rattle of metal doors and calls from the drivers to each other as they situated their cargo into their spots couldn’t drown out Ada’s lies.

She was only ten minutes older than me and had been the leader of our chaotic duo. We were partners in crime, leaning on each other those awkward preteen years, someone to cheer each other on when friends weren’t reliable. After Ada’s acceptance into her master’s program, she’d called me first to tell me.