“Kip's band is Broken Access, and Henley fronts Abandoned Shadow. They're both quite successful, though Kip's success has more to do with his talent than his ability to behave in polite society.”
Before I can ask more about Kip and Henley, my phone buzzes with a text from Gray.
Gray: Xavier wants to meet you. Coffee after my session today?
The message makes my heart skip. Gray's sponsor, Xavier, plays a crucial role in his recovery. Wanting to meet me feels significant.
Rhea: I'd love to. Is everything okay?
Gray: Better than okay. Tell you more later.
“Good news?” Leslie asks, reading my expression.
“Gray's sponsor wants to meet me.”
“Oh, Suga Boo Boo, that's huge.” Leslie claps his hands together as if he has personally orchestrated this development. “Sponsors don't suggest meeting loved ones unless they think the relationship is healthy and supportive. It's like getting approval from the recovery gods.”
The rest of my morning at Mountain Mornings passes quickly, filled with customers and anticipation for the upcoming meeting with Xavier. By three, when Gray picks me up, I’m buzzing with nervous energy. A small voice wonders if this time is different. Is the progress real? I breathe deeply, centering myself with small rituals that calm me, from counting breaths to tracing the outline of my cup. This time, I push aside my doubts and focus on our momentum.
“Relax.” He squeezes my hand as we drive toward Dahlonega. “Xavier's great. He's been wanting to meet you for weeks, but we wanted to make sure we were in a good place first.”
“Are we? In a good place?” Why am I doubting it when he just told me we are?
Gray pulls into the parking lot of a small coffee shop and turns to face me fully. “Rhea, we're in the best place we've ever been. Individually and together. Xavier sees that, and he wants to meet the woman who's been such a positive part of my recovery.”
Xavier Hernandez turns out to be a gentle man in his fifties, with kind eyes and the calm presence of someone who has found peace after a long struggle.
“Rhea,” he says warmly, standing to shake my hand when we enter the coffee shop. “Gray talks about you constantly. It's wonderful to finally meet you.”
We settle into a corner booth. Our talk is the most honest I’ve had about addiction, recovery, and loving a person who’s rebuilding their life.
“Rhea, loving someone in recovery means supporting them without losing yourself. Be a lighthouse, guiding but not steering.”
Xavier warns about the “rescuer” trap, where helping becomes enabling. Through his stories, I learn to trust Gray’s progress, while still taking care of myself.
“Gray's made remarkable progress,” Xavier tells me, stirring his coffee thoughtfully. “But more importantly, he's learned to separate his recovery from his relationship with you. That's crucial.”
“What do you mean?” My brows furrow in confusion.
“Early in recovery, it's common for people to make their sobriety about getting someone back or keeping someone happy. But sustainable recovery has to be about the person themselves.” Xavier glances at Gray with obvious pride. “Gray's doing the work because he wants to live, not because he wants to win you back. That's the difference between recovery that lasts and recovery that doesn't.”
“She never left, even when she had every right to. She just waited for me to find my way back to myself,” Gray tacks on.
“That takes incredible strength,” Xavier says to me. “And incredible wisdom to know the difference between supporting someone and enabling them.”
Our conversation covers warning signs, support, and how to help Gray’s recovery without taking responsibility for it. By the time we leave, I feel I've been given a roadmap for loving someone in recovery while maintaining my own wholeness.
“Thank you for taking care of him and for helping me understand how to do the same,” I tell Xavier as we prepare to leave.
“Take care of each other but take care of yourselves first. That's the secret to making it work.” Xavier throws up a hand in a wave as he turns to head to his car in the parking lot.
On the drive back to the village, Gray is unusually quiet, and I can sense he has something on his mind. Xavier’s advice stands out long after we part ways.
“Penny for your thoughts?” I ask.
“Xavier thinks I'm ready,” he blurts out like he might implode if he doesn’t.
“Ready for what?”
