I should get back to work, but I don’t say anything. Instead, we crawl onto his bed together, tangling our arms and limbs until we’re a single mass. Jude brushes a kiss across my forehead, and then moves up, burying his face in my hair as he begins to hum softly. The melody is familiar, but it’s slow and sad. I nuzzle against his chest, breathing in his scent, as I try to place it.
“Write me a song,” I whisper when I finally recognize it.
“I am,” he says continuing to hum a mournful version of a song we both know by heart. He pulls back and looks me in the eyes. “You are my Sunshine.”
He doesn’t sing the words. He promises them. I may be his Sunshine, but as I melt into his arms, I understand that he’s the reason I burn.
Chapter 18
Today's topic is caution.
It's not something I need a lesson in, since every decision I make goes through my internal bureau of analysis.
"Getting clean can be as intoxicating as what brought us to rehab, and we can become addicted to recovery,” Stephanie reads from the latest self-help book she's touting. The woman should work in publishing. No one finds more value in books than her. She closes the book and looks meaningfully around the room. "Does that speak to you?"
A few of us glance uncomfortably at one another. Sondra finally sighs.
“Yes," she offers. "When I started coming, I lost track of some friends." "Why do you think that happened?" Stephanie's soft eyes are full of concern as she asks.
"Some of them weren't good for me.”
Been there, I think.
“And others didn't understand if I was better, why I had to keep coming. I lost a boyfriend to that one." Sondra clicks her acrylic nails together as she speaks.
"How many of you have experienced that?" Stephanie waits for us to hold up grudging hands before she begins her sermon. Apparently this is her new tactic in her battle to save our souls.
I've never had anyone not understand why I come to these meetings. I've never had to explain myself. Amie accepts it without question, but she also talks to the universe. She's a bit more in tune with her spiritual needs than most.
“So what makes you keep coming, even in the face of adversity and misunderstanding?"
A few people mumble answers.
Habits.
Parole officers.
At least we're being honest.
"Because there's no cure," I answer when everyone falls silent.
Jude is a few seats away, and he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
Everyone waits for me to continue.
Good job. I hate drawing attention to myself, but to my surprise, I keep going. "People want to believe in quick fixes-miracle diets, magic pills. Society loves to buy answers. We're here because we know that we can't. We need reminders of our mistakes. We have to actively choose to not screw up our lives."
"So what do you say to the people who don't understand that?" Stephanie interjects, seeking the moral of her lesson.
I glance at Jude and Sondra and Anne before I settle into my chair and shrug. "I don't waste my time on them."
"Don't you think that's harsh?" Stephanie stumbles over my answer.
I snort. Harsh would be letting them any closer to me. “No. I don't have extra self-preservation to share. I need mine."
What she doesn't understand—and what the people she’s talking about don’t get—is that we're protecting them from ourselves and from when we inevitably fuck up again. If they can't see that, I can't help them.
"Interesting." She flips open her book and begins to read a new section.
Jude presses his lips together. I suspect he's trying not to laugh at how flustered she’s become.
The rest of the meeting is just as insightful.
Jude bumps his shoulder against mine as he meets me at the door when it's over. It's as close to a public display of affection as I'll allow. Outside, the sun peeks apprehensively from the clouds. Spring has decided to be shy this year, but it's beginning to finally warm up.
"Not sharing your self-preservation, huh?" he teases.
"Nope." We walk to our cars. I still insist on driving myself. I'm not sharing my self-reliance either.
He's taken the doors off his Jeep and he swings into the driver's seat before he calls out, "Can I come over tonight?"
I flush, remembering the night before. Biting my lip, I nod.
Apparently it's self-control that I'm lacking.
Jude stays past bedtime. I should ask him to go home, because the longer he stays the closer I am to breaking my own rules. Instead, I find myself wrapped around him on the couch. It's innocent for now but as the minutes tick by and the hour grows later his nearness begins to pull at me. Max is asleep. Amie is gone for the night and who am I kidding? After that little rendezvous in the garage I'm feeling a bit more daring.
"Penny for your thoughts, Sunshine?" He asks me. I run my hand over his stomach, savoring the way my fingertips vibrate over his washboard abs.