Chapter Two

      How’d he get here? Really, how had this happened? Ryan took a seat in one chair of many that made a circle. The group session room at LightHouse Center looked sterile and cold despite the inspirational posters on the walls and potted plants on the windowsills.

      Some of his fellow group members were a little rough around the edges. The young woman to his left might as well be a walking billboard for the tattoo shop in town. Another guy had a beard that shouted Willie Nelson impersonator. Seriously, they looked like they belonged here. He didn’t. And he had weeks of this to look forward to?

      Clenching his jaw, Ryan glanced around. Where was that pretty intern? He wanted to tell her she’d made a big mistake. He’d read that report, and yeah, there was some scary truth to what she’d written, but that didn’t mean he needed this. He definitely didn’t want it..

      He watched more people roll in and take their seats. Normal-looking people, professionals even. So far, thankfully no one he knew.

      “I think we should get started.” John Thompson, the guy he’d met with briefly after hearing the verdict of his assessment, also sat down in the circle.

      “We’ve got several new people,” John announced. “I’d like to go around the room and have everyone introduce themselves and state why you’re here. First names only. Everything said here stays here. Confidentiality and anonymity are crucial to the safety of the herd.”

      Ryan would give anything to wring that intern’s neck. What color would her eyes turn then? The thought made him smile. And then he heard the silence and realized the group was waiting for him.

      He slid back in his chair and wiped his hands on his jeans. “I’m Ryan and I don’t get why I’m here.”

      The woman with the tattoos gave him a sarcastic once-over, like he was the loser. A couple of folks snickered.

      “Okay, Ryan. Eventually, you will.” John didn’t like his answer. No surprise there.

      John hadn’t liked any of his answers when they’d met to map out his master treatment plan. Ryan’s goal was getting this over with as soon as possible and meeting the condition of his sentence so the charges would be dropped. Period. He didn’t have a problem. Not a drinking problem anyway.

      Then the guy slouching next to him answered, “Yeah. My name’s Pete, and what he said is good enough for me, too.”

      “Honesty, folks.” John peered over his glasses at them before giving Ryan a pointed look. He had a short stack of papers attached to a clipboard, resting on his knee. “We’ll get nowhere fast with minimized answers.”

      And so it went. Ryan steeled himself for the psychobabble that promised to fill his next hour and a half. By the time the group session was over, Ryan didn’t linger. He didn’t want to meet anyone. He didn’t want to chat over coffee. He wanted out of there.

      Climbing into his truck, he started the engine and pulled out. He cringed at the squealing sound from his tires but kept driving—too fast. He had to get far away from all that. As far as he could go.

      Okay, slow down and breathe. Just breathe.

      A couple of miles out of town, he finally relaxed. He’d survived his first session. He could do this. He clicked the power button of the radio and fiddled with his preset tabs until he found a country station. The current song’s poor-me wails had him changing the channel to a contemporary Christian station. He tapped his fingers on the wheel as he listened to the soothing sounds of a rock-styled worship song.

      How many times had he sung this song in church without a thought to the words? He felt a tugging at his heart but clicked off the radio.

      Why, Lord? Why is this happening?

      Ryan didn’t expect an answer. He didn’t get one either. He wasn’t exactly on solid speaking terms with the Almighty. Sure, sometimes Ryan talked—ranted usually—but rarely did he hear.

      Maybe he didn’t listen hard enough, but empty silence had a way of shutting down a person’s prayers. Pain that wouldn’t go away did that, too. Yeah, his prayers had definitely dwindled in the last couple of years.

      With a sigh, he kept driving until he spotted a small car with its hazard lights flashing. A woman sat on the hood with what looked like a cell phone in her hand.

      “Stupid,” he muttered.

      Why would a woman sit outside her vehicle on a lonely stretch of road when it was starting to get dark? All right, dusk hadn’t settled yet, but it was a dark and gloomy day. He couldn’t leave her all alone, so he slowed down and pulled over.

      He got out of his truck and walked toward her with his hands open in an easy manner he hoped sent the message that he was okay. He was safe. “You need help?”

      “Nope. I’m good. A tow truck is on its way.”

      He recognized that husky, straightforward voice and stepped closer to the twenty-year-old Toyota Corolla that had a dent over the passenger side front tire. “Ms. Cavanaugh, you really shouldn’t sit out here like this. Anyone could come along.”

      She looked up then and her eyes widened. Green. They looked green in the glow cast by his headlights. Her eyes darted nervously, too. “Ryan.”

      “What happened?”

      She slid off the hood and stood ramrod straight. “It sputtered and died. Look, you don’t have to worry. I called a tow truck.”

      “When?”

      “Just now.”

      “I can’t leave you out here by yourself.”

      “Sure you can. I’m fine.” Her shoulders straightened, but she didn’t look as confident as her tone sounded.

      “I’ll wait with you till they come. In the meantime, why don’t you pop the hood and I’ll take a look.”

      “Do you know anything about cars?” She reached inside the opened driver’s side window and did what he’d asked.

      “I know engines. Do you happen to have a flashlight?”

      “Umm, no. Just this one on my key ring.” She held up a little LED light.

      “That’ll have to