Free My Remedy (Open Door Love Story Book 3) by Stacey Wallace Benefiel

in the morning if he accepts our offer. I understand that he’s also the night manager at Ringo’s.”
    “Yeah, he is, but he doesn’t love it.” I sit back down on the bed. “His brother got him the job. I don’t go in there. He wouldn’t let me even if I tried.”
    “Well, I would hope not,” she says, and then, “I’m not an expert by any means, but I thought it wasn’t a good idea to get involved with someone when you’re in recovery?”
    I straighten the drooping towel turban on my head. “Who said anything about us being involved? We’re friends, helping each other out. I got him the job here – he’s going to be coaching me for free at CrossFit. That’s it.”
    My aunt rolls her eyes. “Uh huh. It certainly appears to me that you’d like to be in a relationship with his hot body at the very least.”
    I wrinkle my nose. “Please don’t talk to me about hot bodies, Aunt Nina. I’m emotionally scarred enough as it is.”
    She chuckles. “How can I not notice, though? All those muscles! Just out there on display. And his butt is very cute.”
    “Seriously stop now. You sound like a perv! This is such a double standard. Imagine Uncle Stan talking about Ginger like this.”
    “You’re right. I’m sorry ... not sorry.” She giggles like a tween.
    It’s my turn to roll my eyes. “Fine. You know what? Duncan is hot. I will admit to being attracted to him. But you were right about something else. Neither one of us should be getting involved romantically with anyone right now – especially another addict.” A random sob attacks me out of nowhere. “I know that I have let Dad down in so many ways...”
    “Isabelle Sundall,” she says, alarmed. “You stop it. I was only teasing you, not trying to get you worked up. I’m sorry.” Aunt Nina grabs hold – wrapping both arms around me and hugs me until I can barely breathe.
    I do stop crying, though. “I don’t think I have any morals, Aunt Nina. I have an idea of right and wrong, but I just don’t care most of the time. I’m trying so hard to be a good person ... yet I still want all the same things I want when I’m drinking. Not to think about the past, not to feel lonely. Not to be abandoned.”
    She tips my chin up, forcing me to look her in the eye. “Hey. Your mom screwed up, Izzy. That’s on her. Your dad loves you so much. Stan and I do too. You may have disappointed us, but never enough for any of us to abandon you. Okay?”
    I nod and the towel on my head comes undone.
    She furrows her brow. “I’ll let you get dressed. Are you going to a meeting today? I think you could use one.”
    “I am. At four.”
    She nods and leaves the room, closing the door behind her. I lay down on my bed in the towel, not in any real hurry to put on clothes. I grab my pad of paper and a pencil from the bedside table and begin to sketch. At first I don’t have a plan. I sometimes like to doodle just to get the creative juices flowing. After a while though, it’s obvious that I’m drawing Duncan.
    His puppy dog eyes stare out at me from the page. As long as I can keep him in my head and on paper, things will be fine. We can both act like adults. We will be spending a lot of time together, but as long as we are working, or at the gym, or at a meeting, I think it’s well within the realm of possibility that we can keep things friendly and flirty and not cross the line.
    I rip the paper out of the pad and jam it between the mattress and box spring. I can’t bring myself to throw it away.

Chapter Ten
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    T he pain I was in on Sunday is nothing like the pain I’m feeling Monday morning. I am sitting on the toilet and absolutely certain that I’m going to have to remain here the rest of my life. I can’t get up. My legs don’t work. My butt has appeared to have grown new muscles expressly for the purpose of causing me more pain.
    “Izzy?” Uncle Stan calls, knocking on the bathroom door. “You okay in there? I’m ready