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“Okay. Want me to leave with you?” She wanted to go with him. She wanted to hug him. To hold him. And not in a sexual way, just a comforting way. But she wanted to make sure and not cross any boundaries with him.
“Please. Let’s go for a walk or something. I need some fresh air.”
She followed him outside. The evening was settling in, and the sun was going down behind the mountains. The air was cool, and she was glad she wore her cardigan. Michael was only wearing a black t-shirt and jeans, but he made no indication that he was cold.
They walked up to a nearby park that had a weaving walking trail next to a river. Neither spoke as they reached the trailhead, and Haize was going to allow the silence. It wasn’t awkward, and he might’ve just needed her presence as he thought through his own thoughts and battled his demons. The crunch of their shoes on the gravel was loud, and when they got to the top of the first hill, it revealed a magnificent view of the mountain range and the orange and yellow hues of the day’s last bits of sunlight just over the tops of the trees.
There was no one else in the park. The silence was beautiful, the calm allowing Michael to ease away from his shaking she had noticed just minutes before. He turned to face her, lifting his hat brim a little higher. The hair underneath was plastered to his forehead, and Haize fought the urge to push the hair aside.
“My mom was a prostitute. I was conceived in the back of a car for a quick twenty bucks. A few years later, here came Mitch, conceived in the same way.”
Haize nodded and showed no judgment. She was glad he was opening up to her.
“She would bring men home and do it right in front of us. She was a drug addict and we rarely had food in the house. Some other stuff happened when I was a teenager. I’m not sure why I went to see her today. She’s always been awful to me. Just being around her is a trigger for me.” He ducked his head and lifted his hat, raking his hand through his hair. “How sad. I can’t even stand being around my own mother.”
“Family doesn’t always mean we have to be around them. Sometimes, family is the most toxic thing.” She knew it all too well. She had her own stories about her childhood, but it wasn’t the time to share them. Comparing stories and bringing up personal experiences would do him no good right now. Similar experiences didn’t mean they felt the same.
“Any sexual promiscuity I have is because of that. Drugs and alcohol too. And seeing her today just made me wanna grab a bottle of whiskey and down it.” He looked down into Haize’s eyes again, the green of his irises bold despite it getting dark. “But I’m not gonna do it. She told me she expects me to relapse. She expects me to get sent back to prison. I’m not gonna give her that satisfaction.”
“That’s a great way to stay inspired. Channel that and use it.” Haize felt anger toward his mother, and she didn’t even know the woman. How could she be so awful to her own child, even if he was a grown man now?
He reached out and took her hand in his. His calloused palm was sensual in hers, and she felt a rush of energy course through her. Why was that happening? From his touch? The way he gazed at her made butterflies flit in her stomach. No, Haize! This man is about to relapse. You’re his sponsor! She wanted to pull away, but she clasped her fingers in his, unwilling to break the contact.
“I’m not gonna relapse because of you, either Haize. Thank you for helping me. Thank you for always being available.” His fingers tightened around hers and she felt her heart thump in her chest.
He moved closer and she could smell him – oaky, manly, with a small hint of cigarette smoke. Their bodies were inches away, his head dipped close to her, so close his warm breath tickled her skin. She felt tiny up next to him – his tall frame dwarfed her small stature, but she also felt safe. And then she felt horrible. This was wrong, but it was right.
Gazing into her eyes, he released her hand and backed away, pulling his hat down again. “Thanks, Haize. Thanks for letting me talk to you tonight.”
She missed him standing close but was relieved he made the move to get away first. But also, sad. The mixed emotions were driving her crazy and she couldn’t let her guard down. “Any time, Michael. I’m here for you and I’m glad you trust me enough to call me.”
“Mikey. Please, call me Mikey. Michael is too formal.”
“Okay, I can do that, Mikey.”
He glanced at his watch. “I should get going. My curfew is at 8:30 and I have to get some rest. I work early, and I’ve gotta meet with my parole officer tomorrow.”
This time, Haize made the first move and pulled him in for a tight hug, holding him close as his strong arms held her around her shoulders. Their bodies were touching, and the electrifying feeling made her tighten the hug, taking his scent in. She buried her face in his chest as they held the embrace, neither speaking, both just holding each other until she mustered up the courage to pull away first that time. She wasn’t sure how she found it within her to do it, but now there was a good two feet between them, both staring each other right in the eye.
“I’ll see you at the meeting tomorrow evening, Mikey. If you need me before that, please call me.”
“I’ll do that, Haize. Thank you, again. I would be drunk on a barstool right now if it wasn’t for you.”
And I’d be naked in your bed if it wasn’t for you having self-control and moving away first, Haize thought to herself, thankful she hadn’t said it out loud. “You’re stronger than you realize, Mikey. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Chapter Twelve
Michael felt the arousal in his jeans as he climbed into his truck. Haize was gorgeous and having her up close and personal was killing him. Her hand in his, her gaze at him, and then the hug. How was he able to control himself? He would’ve still been holding her had she not pulled away, and he immediately missed her body up next to his.
He rubbed his hand down the front of his pants, needing a sexual release. The old him would’ve walked into the bar, picked a woman out, and taken her home. He would’ve taken Haize into the woods and had his way with her. But now he was sitting alone in the pickup with a raging hard-on that was about to burst through his jeans.
He cared for Haize. She helped him through so much in the month he had known her. And he hated himself for seeing her as sexual, for being aroused the way he was. She wasn’t that kind of woman, and he had reduced her down to a fantasy he couldn’t have.
Merging onto the street, he hurried home, still aroused when he pulled into the driveway. Mitch was already in bed, and he was thankful. There was no way to hide what was going on in his pants, and he went to his bedroom and stripped down, immediately hopping in the shower, keeping the water on the cool side to help calm him down.
Gripping himself, he stroked up and down, closing his eyes as he eased the tension from his body. He immediately saw Haize, her smile, her laugh, her beautiful blue eyes looking up at him, her disheveled blond hair he so desperately wanted to run his fingers through.
Instead of the tension easing, he grew harder as he thought of her. The cold water did nothing to help, and he stroked himself fast and hard, lathering up soap to help. His other hand cupped himself, and he thrust his hips, imagining he was deep inside of her. He felt guilty – was this a form of relapse since he was technically a sex addict? No one had ever diagnosed him as one, but there was no denying it.
