Jordan pulled Avery into an embrace. “Okay. It’s okay.”

Avery’s body shuddered with sobs as she gripped the sleeves of Jordan’s T-shirt. “I’ll never do this again.”

“I know. I know.”

Jordan had saved her. Again.

Maybe that was why she had pulled away from Jordan after that night. She needed to prove she could be sober. And if she stumbled again, there would be no disappointment to face other than her own.

However, in her struggle, she had distanced herself from the one person who had her back.

She fought the creeping guilt as she quickened her pace. She arrived at the Italian restaurant and entered the front door. Inside, a dozen people milled around by the bar that now sold only coffee.

“Avery?” The question came from Rogan Malone. He donated spare time to treating substance abusers.

“Hey, Dr. Malone.”

He came toward her, taking her hands in his. “It’s good to see you. How is Jordan? Is she with you?”

“No, attending an autopsy,” she said before she thought. “An old case she wants to solve.”

“Really? How is she able?” Dr. Malone asked.

“She has enough connections, and she’s determined. You know how she is.”

“She’s stubborn. Maybe too much.” He grinned. “But aren’t we all lucky she is? Join us. We’re about to start. Would you like a coffee?”

“No, thanks. I drank my fill at the café. Dropped in on old friends.” She pictured Jordan with Dr. Malone but did not like the image. She was sorry now she had come to this meeting.

“That’s always good.” He nodded toward the empty chairs arranged in a circle. “Have a seat.”

Unease crept up her back as she reached for a chair and pulled it a few inches out from the ring. Her regular meetings felt like family, but this was a new group. She was not interested in telling these strangers about herself.

As the people sat and got comfortable, she silenced her phone but left it on her lap in case Jordan called. Everyone in the circle introduced themselves by their first names.

The meeting went as most did. People shared their troubles and struggles. As she listened, the knot in her chest that had coiled tight the last few weeks eased. This was not her group, but they were her people.

Malone listened to each story, and no matter how hard someone said they had fallen, he showed compassion and warmth. It was the kind of understanding that came from not a textbook but life. Though he had never shared his story, there had to be one. Like her, the man was entitled to his secrets.

After the meeting, she put her chair back behind a dining table and shifted her purse to her shoulder. “Thanks, Dr. Malone.”

“Don’t be a stranger,” Dr. Malone said.

“Never.”