Better (Stark Ink Book 2) by Dahlia West

Overslept.”
    Partly true, he hadn’t woken up early enough to attend, but was that a whiff of ozone Dalton caught as he breathed in? Best not to say too much.
    Dalton wasn’t ready to talk about Zoey. There was nothing to say at this point, anyway. He was just helping out an old friend. He helped Jig set up the chairs and tried not to think about it too much, which of course meant it was the only thing on his mind. There was no telling how long Zoey would stay, a few days maybe, a week? Much of it depended on her parents and how long it would take them to come around.
    For better or worse, Elaine and Lyle would eventually realize that the longer they refused to get on board with Zoey leaving her husband, the more time she’d be spending at Dalton’s place. They wouldn’t want that, obviously, and so he expected them to call her and change their tune any day now. He really couldn’t sort through how he felt about that. It was good for Zoey. Her mom obviously would know better what she needed with the baby. It was probably good for him, too, if she left. Too much change too fast could up-end everything he’d worked for so far. He still didn’t want her leave though, even if it was what both of them needed.
    “Is that the coffee?” Jig asked. “Or do I smell burning rubber.”
    Dalton paused and actually looked up at the ceiling without thinking. “What?”
    Jig laughed. “You man. I think your brain is grinding its gears.”
    “Oh.”
    “What’s going on, Dalton?”
    Jig knew him fairly well by now, Dalton supposed, though anyone could put two and two together and figure out that Dalton only came to meetings once a week and this was his second in as many days. It wasn’t a stretch to know something was off.
    “Nothing,” Dalton said quickly. “Ran into an old friend.”
    Jig’s lips pursed. “Drinking buddy?”
    “Nah. Not like that. An… old girlfriend.”
    “Ah,” Jig replied knowingly. “This would be Zoey?”
    Dalton nodded.
    “And? You know you’ve got to be careful. You may think it’s all open road from here, but there’s still a few blind curves. Get a plant, Dalton. If it’s meant to be, it’ll keep.”
    Jig looked worried, which made Dalton feel shitty. Here was a man who’d taken it upon himself to watch out for him for no other reason than they’d once been on the same road. Jig had gotten off of it and now spent his free time helping others find their own exit. Dalton still wasn’t sure about plants, or Zoey, or anything much beyond getting up every morning, going to work, and then going back home. But Jig was worried and maybe he had a right to be.
    Dalton nodded slowly. “Might get a plant. Are orchids nice?”
    “Nah. They don’t bloom this time of year, remember?” Jig gestured to the stairs. “Could just get a poinsettia. They’re selling them as a fundraiser upstairs. Cheap, easy to take care of, looks good this time of year. If you take care of it, it’ll bloom again next Christmas.”
    Dalton looked at the stairs and then back at Jig. “Okay,” he decided, still feeling a bit uneasy.
    Jig beamed, though. “Well, alright!” he said and clapped Dalton on the arm.
    Dalton sat in the back next to the older man during the actual meeting. At the podium was a younger guy who’d popped his Pop’s pain pills back when he was boozing, too. Made the whiskey last longer, he said. Dalton was glad he’d never cottoned on to that knowledge himself. Apparently the guy’s girlfriend was a junkie too and he’d once put her in the hospital when he’d come home and found she’d overdosed. He hadn’t actually called an ambulance or drove her there himself. He hadn’t been concerned with saving her at all. He’d come home to find the empty bottle in her hand, she was delirious by that point, and he’d beaten her the rest of the way unconscious for taking all the pills and not saving any for him. It was the neighbors that had finally called the police.
    Listening to him