Brennan paused. “Why do you ask? Is everything okay?”
“Yeah.” I took a steadying breath. “Everything’s good. Well, I mean. Good, considering.”
“Right,” Brennan said with a chuckle. “Considering. Did you go last night?”
“I did,” I admitted. “Thanks. For pushing me.”
“I’m glad,” Brennan said. “Listen, Dawson, I’m—I’m proud of you. For taking that step. I know it’s not easy.”
My throat tightened again, and at the same time, my resolve hardened. I knew I was doing the right thing. “Couldn’t do it without you,” I said. Then I cleared my throat. “I really do need to know where Mal is, though.”
“All right,” Brennan said. “Just, uh—he might not be too excited to see you.”
“I know,” I said. “I don’t expect anything different.”
“He’s at Stella’s today, I’m pretty sure. What do you need from him?”
“I just have to talk to him,” I said. I wasn’t ready to tell Brennan everything—I had to get my own head on straight first, and I needed to hear what Mal had to say. “Trust me.”
Brennan sighed. “Okay. I’ll talk to you later.”
I made myself as presentable as I could, and then drove the short distance from my house to the bakery. The closer I got, the worse my nerves were. But I wasn’t going to back out.
I stepped into Stella’s—it was crowded with customers, what with how close to the holidays were. Mary was working the counter with a smile, expertly managing customers, pastries, and making coffee drinks as she did. Logan was in the back, working on packing up a big pastry order, and he furrowed his brow a little as I walked in. Wiping his hands on his apron, he approached the counter.
“Hey, Dawson,” he said a little tentatively. “What can I help you with?”
He wasn’t unfriendly, per se, but there wasn’t much welcoming about his posture, either.
“Hey,” I said, then rubbed the back of my neck. “Listen, I know—I’m sorry if I’m out of bounds here, but I was really hoping to talk to Mal.”
Logan’s expression softened. “To Mal?”
“Yeah,” I said. I pressed my lips together hard. “I went to a meeting last night, and I just… I wanted to ask him something.”
Logan nodded, understanding. “He’s in the back.”
He motioned for me to follow and led me to the back office of the bakery. Dante, Heath, and Mal were all inside, reviewing the bakery’s books, and all three of them looked up when Logan rapped his knuckles on the door. Dante’s expression shuttered and Heath glanced at him nervously, but Mal simply looked curious. He tilted his head to his side, then waved me inside.
“Thanks, Logan,” Dante said, and they exchanged a meaningful look before he went back to the bench, Heath excusing himself and following Logan out, and Dante closed the door to the office.
Mal’s curious expression went a little serious. With all three of us in the small office, it felt a little cramped. Their gazes bore into me. Nowhere to run now. I shifted my weight from foot to foot a little awkwardly.
“I came here to apologize,” I said.
Mal and Dante both nodded but said nothing, clearly waiting for me to continue.
“I’m sorry for endangering the club. And for being a shithead at Ballast, and for losing your trust on the job site.” I swallowed hard. Part of me wanted to leave it at that and bolt. But I’d come here for a reason. “I think—I think I have a drinking problem. And I wanted to ask for your help.”
Mal started a little, eyes widening. This clearly wasn’t what he was expecting.
“I went to a meeting last night,” I continued, before Mal could say anything. “Heard Nix speak. And talked to him afterward. He said—he said that you and the club were the reason he was able to get clean. That he wouldn’t have been able to do it without you.” I finally met his eyes, and found Mal watching me carefully, his brown eyes thoughtful. “I wanted to ask if you could help me, too.”
Mal rubbed his chin, then exchanged a look with Dante. “The club’s my first priority,” he said. “You have to understand. I can’t let you threaten the safety of the club, or our members. I can’t let you hurt Nix again.”
“I won’t,” I said immediately. But Dante and Mal’s twin eyebrow-raised expressions made me pause.
I’d done nothing to warrant them believing that promise. All I’d done was lie and mislead them and cause problems.
“I mean,” I amended. “I’m ready to make a change. And I’m going to do my best to not make the mistakes I’ve already made. I know I’ve fucked up a lot.” I sighed and ran my hands through my hair. “A lot. I don’t want to keep fucking up. But I can’t do it alone.”
Mal watched me for a long moment, and then nodded. “Good answer.”
I nearly slumped back against the wall in relief.
Dante pushed off the desk where he was leaning against it and clapped me on the shoulder. I nearly jumped, I was so surprised by the sudden contact. He smiled at me.
“I’ve got a good feeling about this,” he said. “Good work coming to terms with it.”
“Thanks for not kicking my ass for coming here,” I said.
Dante barked a laugh. “You look like a kicked puppy already. That’s a good sign.” He glanced at Mal. “Need help with anything?”
“No,” Mal said thoughtfully. “I think Dawson and I can figure out some next steps on our own.”
Dante nodded, then slipped out of the office.
Mal took a seat back at the desk, and then nodded at me to take the seat Dante had previously been occupying. “So what kind of help did you have in mind?” Mal asked.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I just… I know I can’t continue on the way I’ve been going. And I’ve tried to curb my drinking before, giving myself limits or taking days off, but things always escalate right back up. It’s always a temporary solution. And whenever I’m cutting back, the urge is always there.”
Mal nodded. “I don’t know if you’re going to like what I have to say.”
“Try me,” I said. I was desperate enough to try anything, at this point.
“It’s hard to get clean on your own,” Mal said. “Even if you’re attending meetings every night. It’s hard to be out and about in the world managing the urges all alone.”
I nodded. I’d experienced that firsthand—being alone in my living room, consumed with the desire to drink and be around other people until I couldn’t stand it anymore, and ended up at Tempest.
“Because it’s usually not about simple self-control,” Mal continued. “There’s usually something else behind the addiction. And you can’t get a handle on the addiction until you get a handle on whatever’s under it, too.”
My stomach roiled. “I can’t do it just with the meetings,” I admitted.
And it wasn’t just the thought of struggling through the days—it was the thought of going to work, seeing Brennan, seeing Nix, seeing the club, and having all of them know what I was going through. That I was so fucked up I couldn’t even drink a few beers like a normal guy. And what if I failed, and fell off the wagon, and started drinking again? I didn’t think I could handle the shame and the embarrassment.