The office door opened, and Duncan stepped inside without saying hello, immediately making a beeline to the coffee. Judging by the dark circles under his eyes, and unkempt five-o’clock shadow, he wasn’t doing much better than I was. He didn’t even bother to put sugar in it, which was a big deal. Apparently, he hadn’t gotten much sleep last night either.

“Rough morning?” I asked, watching him down half a cup before going back to refill it.

“Yeah,” Duncan said, pressing the warm mug against his breastbone. “Walter’s been placed in the psych ward on suicide watch.” I sat up straight in my chair, and a chill ran down my spine, sweat beading at the base. Suddenly, my mouth felt like it’d been stuffed with cotton, making it impossible to speak for a a long time.

Duncan noticed my alarm and raised a hand to me before sitting down in his chair. “He’s stabilized, but he has to spend a few days there. It won’t be fun because psych wards never are, but he’s spoken to his sponsor and parole officer, and they’re working with him to make sure this doesn’t happen again.”

I watched as he downed half a cup and refilled it without a look my way. The last time Duncan acted like this was when an employee ended up in the hospital from OD’ing.

“How’d this all go down?” I asked, my gaze following Duncan to his chair, where he sat down and rested his elbows on his knees.

“Last night, I got a phone call from Walt’s sponsor saying that he’s been checked into the hospital for potential suicide watch,” he said, voice hoarse like he’d been screaming. “He’d made several erratic phone calls to his family, who contacted his parole officer. I’m not entirely sure of the details, but I got to speak to him on the phone. Like I said, he’s stabilized for now, but he’s got a rough few days ahead of him.”

I was very, very grateful that I was also sitting down because the gush of guilt pounded against my rib cage. “I’d just spoken to him. He was drinking, and I tried to meet up with him, but he hung up, and I didn’t call him back. Fuck, why didn’t I call him back?”

Duncan lifted a reassuring hand. It was obvious he could see I was buggin’. “Nik, you are not responsible for Walt’s choices. Even if you did try to reach out to him, the probability of him listening to you—hell, even wanting to talk to you—was slim to none. Especially when he’s spiraling.”

“Fucking hell,” I said, covering my face and shaking my head. First Micah, and now this. I knocked my head against the back of my chair. “Fuck.”

“I’ve asked Chance to come in to help with orientation today because I may need to leave with little notice,” Duncan said.

It made sense. Duncan was Walt’s employer. Whatever BS landed him in the hospital meant that his job was on the line, especially if he needed to get back into rehab. I was pretty useless with all of this and didn’t bother to fight him about it.

“Well, since I ain’t doing the orientation, I’ll head to the back and get some stuff done.”

God. Suicide watch. My experience with psych wards was purely secondhand accounts from Chance and other people in support groups. I’d never ended up in one, but I knew they were far from paradise.

I rubbed my fingers together, my palm scrubbing along my arm as I tried to get the balls to ask something that’d been on my mind since I found out about Walt being in the hospital.

“Will we be able to visit him?” I asked, refusing to look at Duncan because if I did, then I knew I’d probably end up losing my shit.

“I’ll chat with his sponsor and see if they’re allowing visitors,” Duncan said, picking up his phone and tapping away a text.

“Vibes,” I said and got up from the chair, grabbing my stuff. This could be the last time I’d speak to Walt, unless he reached out. He could walk away from the hospital, and we might never see him again.

It was hard not to think about all the worst-case scenarios, from arrest all the way to finding his lifeless body in some fucking alleyway. God, what if someone found him tucked away in the shopping center people hung out at after closing hours, strung out of his mind?

When I got to the door, I stopped and stared at the metal knob, blinking away the burn in my eyes and the sudden tightness in my throat. “A few weeks ago, I described sobriety as being boring, but it’s not. It makes the struggle of the world so much more obvious. So many people sufferin’ and no guarantee they’ll ever get clean. This shit isn’t boring. It’s damn lonely.”

I left before Duncan could say anything else. I knew he’d try to do some of his mentor talk, but I wasn’t feeling it. The shift went along without a hitch, and the crew carried on with their usual bullshitting. It didn’t feel the same without Walt.

When my phone started vibrating in my pocket, I pulled it out, not recognizing the number. Knowing it could be Walt, I answered it.

“Hey, Nik? Fuck, I really hope I called the right number. Are you Nik?”

This wasn’t Walt. It was Ada.

I could hear some yelling in the background, the phone fumbling from something going down. I rushed out through the delivery entrance, poking my finger in my ear.

“Yeah, it’s me. Where are you?”

“I need you to come get me. There are cops outside the house, and I’m fucking screwed,” Ada said in a rush. She sounded scared, but the way she was talking, I could tell she was on something. “I need you to come find me. But don’t tell Micah, okay?”

The panic settled in. My head spun with a million questions. Who was she with? Was she okay? What was she on? Did she have any gear on her? I wished I had more time. “Okay, just tell me where you are.”

Ada started yelling at someone, but her voice was muffled, like she was hiding the phone. I heard a door slam, and when she got back on the line, she sounded out of breath. “I’m at someone’s house. Fuck, I should’ve stayed back at the apartment. I know we’re near the corner store that’s close by the bridge. Do you know what I’m talking about?”

I knew exactly what she was talking about. My legs felt weak at the thought of having to go back to that fucking place, but I knew Ada called me because she felt like she had no one else.

“Yeah, I know where it’s at,” I said, my voice tight.

Then everything went to hell.

People screaming, a deep voice announcing they were the police. Ada gasped and said, “Fuck.”

The line went dead. My face lost feeling. Nausea roiled in my stomach so intensely that I bent over in case I puked my breakfast, but I didn’t have time to stand around to see if I was going to make a mess on the pavement. Ada needed me.

I ran to Duncan’s office, weaving through aisles and past customers, giving zero fucks about shoulder checking any of them. My only prayer was that he was still there.

When I opened the door, Duncan jolted up from his seat, his eyes wide. He looked spooked. I slumped against the wall, gulping for breath, ignoring the way my heart was slamming against my chest.

“Duncan, I need your help. Ada—Ada’s in trouble. She was at a dope house, and the cops came, and I need to know who we can call to find out if she’s been arrested.”

Duncan gently placed his hands on my shoulders, his grip firm. “Okay, let’s start from the top. Who’s Ada?”

“Micah’s sister. She’s an addict, but Micah thinks he can save her or something, and you know how that is, right? I gave her my number in case something went down, and it did, and we gotta find out if⁠—”

“Hey, hey,” Duncan said, pulling me into a hug. I slumped against him, squeezing my eyes tight, trying to calm my racing brain. “If she’s been arrested, which it sounds like is likely, it’ll take a bit before she’s booked. But I can make a couple of phone calls.”

I stepped away, rubbing both of my eyes with my fingers. “Jesus, today has been wild as hell.”

“Sure has, but this is what it’s like to be on the other side of this, and you’re handling it well,” Duncan said. “Look, I was just coming to see you because Walt’s sponsor called me, and he said Walt’s been asking about you. I was going to give you the afternoon off so you could visit him, but now you can meet up with Ada too. Are you up for that?”

“Yeah, of course. Just text me the deets,” I said, running my fingers through my sweaty hair. “And please let me know if you find out what happened to Ada.”

“I promise,” Duncan said. The small amount of relief I felt from his promise boosted me enough to walk out of the office and grab my things. I understood why Ada didn’t want Micah to know about where she was. He probably would’ve flipped out and dragged her to the nearest rehab.

Micah refused to listen to facts, and even if Ada hadn’t begged me to not tell him, I wouldn’t do it, anyway. Knowing that scared the hell out of me, and it was hard to not wonder if this thing with Micah would work out after all.

MICAH

Ileaned against the side of my car outside the police station and watched Ada. She was looking off, her face void of emotion. She’d lost more weight, her cheeks hollowed. There were sores around her chin from picking at her face.

She didn’t bother to listen to the police offer as he spoke to her. Apparently, he was a guy that Ada knew from college. I didn’t care to ask his name.

“Technically, I could get her for public intoxication, but because this is her first time, we will not press charges,” the officer said to me as he rubbed the back of his neck, stealing a look at Ada. “As of right now, she will have to . . .”