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Sam scooted his reading glasses down the bridge of his nose. “You’re addicted to drugs and alcohol.”
“Yes.”
“That’s a mental illness. And a gateway into other mental illnesses.”
“I got to AA meetings for it.”
Sam wrote some more things down. “Listen, if you don’t wanna do this, I can report back to your P.O. and save us both some time.”
“Can we say we did it and you not report anything?” Michael forced a smile, hoping Sam had a sense of humor. He held his hand up. “I’m kidding. I know you won’t do that. I know you have standards, and frankly, I’m glad you do. It means I might be able to trust you some.”
“I know trust isn’t something that you can just turn on like a switch. And I understand your hesitation, Michael. But I truly am here to help you. I want to see you succeed. Having a neutral person to talk to helps. Do you have anyone else you can talk to?”
Haize immediately came to mind, but now that he had developed feelings for her, he wasn’t sure how that would turn out. He trusted her more than anyone else, but the kiss had him all torn up inside.
“You ever have feelings for someone you couldn’t have?” Michael lifted his hat and ran his hand through his hair.
“My wife.”
“But you have her if she’s your wife. If she married you.”
Sam nodded. “When I first met her, I didn’t think I could have her. I thought she was out of my league.”
“So, you knew from the moment you met her that you were attracted to her?”
“I did. She was beautiful, smart, funny, and like I said, way out of my league.”
Michael sat forward in his chair. “Looks like it turned out well. She must’ve not thought she was better than you.”
“I can’t imagine you having a hard time finding a woman, Michael. You’re a good-looking guy. A little rough around the edges with a bad-boy vibe. A lot of women love that.”
“They love a man who has been in prison? I’m not finding that true, at least not with the good ones.”
“A man who is fixing his past. A brooding man. One who wants to do well and is getting over all the awful things that have happened to him.”
“Is that what’s happening to me?” Michael laughed and put his hat back on. “Whatever I tell you stays here? Like, you won’t go tell my P.O. or anyone?”
“It stays here. Unless you tell me you’re suicidal or homicidal, it doesn’t leave this room. You have my word.”
Michael swallowed the bile in his throat, hesitating to divulge any information about Haize. What if Sam knew Haize? She was a chemical dependency counselor, and it was a small town. Had they worked together? Had some of the same clients?
“I’m just sorta having some feelings for a woman I can’t have.”
Sam nodded. “Why can’t you have her?”
Michael shrugged. “Professional courtesy. We need to keep a boundary between us. It can fuck a lot of things up if we act on it.”
“We? So, does she have feelings for you, too? Does she know how you feel?”
His memory flashed to the night before. The kiss and her body up against his. His hand on the small of her back, just above the entrance to the back of her pants. The fire between them, and the arousal he had to deny. “Maybe. I don’t know. I’ve been with a lot of women, Sam. One-night stands, fuck buddies, some relationships, some random… and no one has made me feel like this. The one time it’s happened, I can’t have her. I’m not supposed to have her. It could mess so much up.”
“That is a tough situation, Michael. Is she someone involved with your recovery? Your parole requirements?”
Michael didn’t answer at first. Would this get Haize in trouble? She had to keep things professional, or it could be an ethical issue. But he wasn’t technically a client of hers, so that could be the fine print that would keep her safe. “She is.”
“Then you’re doing the right thing. Keep it professional. You get involved romantically and you’re right, it can mess up things. Stop it before it goes too far. Has anything happened?”
“No,” Michael lied. “She doesn’t even know how I feel. I’ll try to keep it professional.” Easier said than done.
