"Crummy ones, actually, but I hate feeling helpless."
His throat moved with a long swallow. "Helpless sucks."
For a second the connection between them shimmered to life again, a thin, fragile thread she needed to handle with a feather-light touch.
From his thigh pocket, his cell phone chimed—at four in the morning? The thread snapped.
He growled. "I'm starting to hate that damn thing." Rising, he dropped a quick kiss on her lips as he whipped his cell phone from his pocket. He glanced at the LCD, his face blanking. "Sorry. I have to take this."
Carson stepped out onto the balcony to talk in private, his voice low. Even with his reassuring kiss and words, she couldn't shake the feeling there was something more he was keeping from her. She thought about those two men she'd seen him with the night of Gary's death, and how Carson had neatly avoided saying anything about them when she shared the memory.
Staring at the broad plank of his shoulders as he stood outside taking his mystery call, she told herself they were still early in this relationship thing. Be patient. Build trust.
Except she couldn't help but think of how long her mother had told herself the very same thing.
Chapter 11
Sliding the balcony door closed behind him as he stood outside in the chilly night, Carson tucked the phone to his ear, his head still pounding from the discussion with Nikki. He was trying, but he couldn't miss the searching in her eyes, the need for something more he wasn't sure he had in him to give after his screwed-up childhood.
However at the moment, the person on the other end of the phone needed him. That loyalty had to be a top priority. Without the support system, none of them would be worth a damn to anyone. "Hello?"
"Carson? Will, here. Sorry to call so late." They used first names in the program, even when they knew the surname.
"How's everything going?" All right, he hoped, because as much as he tried to channel his thoughts into being supportive, he couldn't stop thinking about Nikki, being with her—and the mind-blowing discovery that they hadn't been together months ago before he'd passed out.
He'd always been a heavy social drinker. That sense of family in a gathering had sucked him right in and he would stay until the bell rang for last round. He'd tried a few times to cut back, but with no lasting luck—until he'd bottomed out that night with Nikki and realized he needed to join A.A. He still had a long road ahead, but his sea legs were back under him and he owed a debt for that.
Free time was in short supply, but he volunteered every spare second to a local support group that served as a catch-all for relatives of people with a variety of addictions. "Hey, Will? You still there?"
"Yeah," the older man cleared his throat, voice raspy from years of smoking to fill the empty hours without a beer at the racetrack, "Vic called."
Not Will's problem tonight, but rather the guy Will was sponsoring. Will had been sponsoring Owens, as well, since Will belonged to both AA and Gambler's Anonymous. "At four in the morning? Must be bad, but at least he called."
Vic Jansen had caught the potential drinking problem early, recognizing he was having a rough time since he'd lost his daughter, using alcohol to numb the pain. Carson had a feeling Vic would make it through, and once he had his life back, the guy had the makings of being a rock-solid support. But first, they had to get Vic to tomorrow.
"He needs someone to come over and talk. My boy wrecked the truck and I don't get it back until the morning..."
"I can cover it." Easy enough to drop in since Vic lived on his forty-two-foot sailboat docked near Carson's smaller one. Hell, he understood well how tough the nights could be. At least Vic was making the call rather than landing on the wrong woman's doorstep. "Thanks for the heads-up."
"No problem. Let me know how it goes."
"Roger." Carson disconnected and stuffed the cell phone back into his flight suit pocket.
Now he needed to figure out how to leave without seeming to bolt through the door. He wasn't sure where he and Nikki were headed, but again she'd held him through a hellish night. As much as he didn't want to lean on anyone, he couldn't ignore the fact that he kept ending up on her doorstep when he needed someone.
Which cycled him back around to being a taker, the thing he hated most. So what the hell to do? Deal with it one day at a time until he got his head out of his butt.
He rolled the glass door open to find Nikki dressed again. God, she looked great in those short fuzzy sweaters, softness and bright colors calling to his hands, touch me. He cricked his neck through the temptation to explore tangerine angora. "I'm sorry. I have to go."
"Work." Kneeling, she nodded, fishing a canvas bag from her closet, the hem of her sweater inching up to reveal a strip of her creamy back. "I understand."
Work? Carson hesitated a second too long and she glanced over her shoulder. He wasn't fooling her for a second, but couldn't say more. "I would stay if I could."
He hated lying to her. For the first time he considered telling her about his alcoholism. Why had he held off so long? Had he been enough of an ass back then to keep the secret so as not to taint her hero worship? A distinct possibility he needed to make right, and soon.
At least then she would understand moments he had to leave at the drop of a hat for a non-work-related call when he couldn't give her the specifics. That confidentiality was crucial in A.A., something he couldn't break even for Nikki. It sucked bad enough that Reis had investigated Owens's sponsor. How he'd found out the confidential relationship, Carson didn't know.
Okay, so he would tell Nikki about his drinking problem, but it wasn't something he could drop on her then sprint out the door. And he did have to sprint. "We're still on for sailing this weekend?"