Whoever said admitting you have a problem is the first step was a friggin’ genius!

Before I can formulate an appropriate response, Lyle, the meeting coordinator, takes the podium.

“Welcome, everyone. Can you please take your seats?”

As Tia and I are making our way to two empty chairs on the back row, I look up and my eyes collide with warm blue ones. My gait falters as we stare at each other. He nods once and then looks away.

I purposely keep my eyes trained straight ahead until we are seated. Tia leans over and whispers in my ear, “Holy Mary mother of God, you weren’t kidding about hot guys, were you?”

I shush her and tip my head toward the front of the room, hoping she’ll drop it and pay attention like she needs to.

No such luck.

“Do you know him, Vi? Did you meet him last week? Who is he?”

“No, I don’t know him. I met him briefly last week. His name is Jet. Now zip it and pay attention,” I say with mock severity. Even if I did want to talk to her about Jet, which I don’t, I don’t want to talk about it now. Not only is that rude, but the last thing I need to do is draw attention to myself.

As he did last week, Lyle asks if there is anyone that’s new to this particular meeting. Two people raise their hands. Evidently there’s a never-ending supply of sex addicts. Lyle welcomes them and then moves through a brief explanation of the SAA philosophy, which is based on the Alcoholics Anonymous 12-Step program.

I try to listen, but I can’t seem to focus on what he’s saying for long. I find myself watching Jet from the corner of my eye. I can just make him out between two people if they both shift the right way. I see his head move several times as though he might be turning to look at me, but I can’t be sure. And I won’t be sure either. I can’t risk looking directly at him and getting caught. Instead, I stare straight ahead like I’m deeply interested in what’s going on at the front of the room.

Eventually, we make it through to the part where everyone stands up and says their little piece. Some have a longer, more in depth story to tell, which terrifies me. I don’t want anyone to ask me for my story. Because, you know, I don’t have one.

My anxiety rises the closer it gets to being my turn. Tia is to my left, which means that she goes first, though. Leave it to her to make it worse and give me something else to freak out about.

She stands after the person to her left sits back down. I can tell by her posturing that she’s treating this like her time in the spotlight rather than the humiliating experience that it is. She smooths her tight jeans and gives everyone a beaming smile. Internally, I shake my head. The least she could do is pretend she’s here for help. As it is, flipping her hair and pulling her shirt down tight, she looks like the only thing she’s trying to do is make a good showing for the masculine population in the room.

Taking a deep breath, Tia puffs out her already-ample chest and begins in her charming way. “Hi, my name is Tia, and I’m a sex addict. Ummm, I never really saw that I had a problem until I met this wonderful woman.” She pauses to cast an amazingly convincing smile of gratitude down upon me. “She has helped me so much. If it weren’t for Violet, I’d still be living in my old ways. It’s through her strength and with her support that I’m here tonight.”

Well, at least that part’s true, I think to myself as I struggle to keep the cringe off my face. Meanwhile, Tia is eating up having a roomful of eyes trained on her. She really should’ve been an actress. She’s already got the self-control issues and the narcissism down pat.

She bends down and kisses my cheek then turns to give the audience a tearful smile. All that’s missing is for her to take a bow. They clap for her as she takes her seat, and then all eyes turn toward me.

I stand, a blush stinging my cheeks as I do. I glance around the room, determined to casually skim over Jet. But when my eyes meet his, they stop, refusing to go any further. He’s watching me, his gaze intense. I feel a warm flush pour through me, despite the cool temperature of the room, and I squirm uncomfortably.

I waste valuable time chastising myself, arguing that I should not be getting any kind of warm fuzzies over a guy in a place like this, one who has a problem like the one he’s got. He’s trouble that I don’t need. He’s a kind of broken that I can’t fix.

“Violet, why don’t you tell us a little bit about your journey,” Lyle suggests when my silence drags on too long.

My mind spins in a panic and I feel my heartbeat as though it’s hammering right behind my eyes. “I’d love to, Lyle, but I’d like tonight to be about my friend Tia, if you don’t mind. She’s heard my story a thousand times, and I’d rather this be the beginning of her own journey.”

Lyle smiles in his softly accepting way and nods at me. “What an amazing sponsor you must be, Violet.”

“Oh, I’m not her sponsor,” I correct before I have time to think better of it. Then, when I do, I could kick myself.

“Well, her loss is our gain. You’d be a great sponsor.”

I give him an uneasy smile and take my seat, silently cursing Tia for making this nightmare that much worse.

On edge, I’m ready to deflect and defend for the rest of the night, but, thankfully, the need doesn’t arise. I must’ve said just the right thing. No one else asks me anything for the remainder of the session.

Until Tia and I are headed for the door.

“Violet,” I hear a deep and oddly familiar voice say just as we are on our way out the door.

I look back to see Jet making his way toward me, two coffee cups in hand. He gives me a lopsided grin when he reaches me, handing me one of them. “I thought I’d buy you a drink,” he says casually. “Because I know you drink coffee.”

I return his smile, taking the cup yet knowing I won’t drink a drop of the steaming contents. It would keep me up all night. “Yes, I do. Thank you.”

“Vi,” I hear from the other side of the partially open door. “You coming?” It’s Tia. I glance behind me in time to see her poke her head back inside. Her eyes meet mine for a fraction of a second before they rise and widen. I know exactly who they’re trained on behind me. I feel a surge of possessive jealousy well up inside me, which is very unusual. I chalk it up to wanting to keep Jet to myself so that neither he nor Tia does something stupid.

At least that’s what I tell myself.

Tia walks slowly back into the room, her h*ps already adopting that swivel they get when she’s interested in someone. I turn toward her when she stops in front of me. I see her flash her most dazzling smile over my shoulder.

“Tia, right?” Jet says from behind me. I see his muscular forearm shoot out past me at my side as he leans forward to offer his hand, his chest pressing into my back.

“Yes. You remembered,” Tia says, happily sliding her palm over his.

“I’m Jet. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” she drawls, all but salivating. It isn’t hard to picture her with the toothy grin of a great white shark, sharp teeth flashing in the light as it opens its mouth to gulp down its prey.

Jet’s next words surprise me. “Tia, would you mind if I borrowed Violet? I promise to bring her right back.”

His words surprise Tia, too, as evidenced by the way they round in confusion. She’s not accustomed to anyone else getting the least bit of attention when she’s around. She’s beautiful, vivacious, and extremely flirtatious. When she sets her sights on something, she unerringly gets it.

And I can’t help but wonder if now they’ll be set on Jet.

Still, Tia recovers quickly and graciously agrees. “Of course not. I don’t mind sharing.”

There’s no mistaking what she really means by that comment. I glance back at Jet. It’s obvious by the wink he gives Tia that he didn’t miss it either. Rather than respond, however, he just looks down at me as though she never spoke. He tips his head toward the wall behind us. “Do you mind?”

I’m so caught off guard, I don’t think to do anything but agree. “Of course not.”

All I can think of are Tia’s eyes on me as Jet lays his hand on the small of my back and guides me away from her. He leads me to a corner that’s fairly private—well, as private as two people can be when surrounded by a roomful of ears and eyes.

When he stops, leaning casually against the concrete block and smiling down at me, I forget all about Tia. And everyone else in the room, for that matter. The only person I’m aware of is Jet—Jet with his piercing eyes, Jet with his heart-stopping smile. Jet with his bag full of problems that somehow make him real and more attractive than any other man I’ve known.

“Look, I, uh . . . I was wondering . . .”

He trails off. I wait for him to continue.

I don’t mind waiting. If he never said another word, I’m not sure I’d care. I could stare at him, stare into those amazing, fathomless eyes for days on end and never utter a single complaint. When he finally speaks, I struggle to focus on his words.

Jet takes a deep breath and blurts, “Would you be my sponsor? I know it’s not the normal practice since we are the opposite sex, but you’re pretty much the only one in our group who could do it.”

My mind is filled with the sound of screeching brakes. His words are like a concrete barrier in front of the speeding car of my silent fawning.

“Jet, I—”

“I know it’s probably a headache for you to even consider it, but let me tell you first how much I would appreciate it. I promise not to bother you every day like some people might. I’m very familiar with my . . . triggers, and it’s during those times that I could really use a little help. Sometimes just an ear, sometimes maybe a visit to keep me focused on what I need to be focused on. I swear I won’t be a full-time job.”

When he finishes, Jet gives me a wry yet charming smile. It reminds me that, while he’s amazingly handsome and charismatic as all hell, he’s just a guy. Human. Like the rest of us. He’s just a little weaker in some areas than the majority of the population, but at least he’s smart enough to realize it and try to get some help. And whether he knows it or not, he’s speaking my language. I’m nothing if not helpful.

I sigh, worrying my lip as I nervously contemplate all the hundred and one ways this could go awry. I want to help him. I do. And a big part of me is already saying yes. I mean, how hard could it be to make sure the guy goes home alone?

But the more reserved part of me is reminding me that I’d be doing this under false pretenses. It’s all a lie on my end. This could blow up in my face in the worst possible way. And end up hurting him.

With Jet watching me as I deliberate, I try to formulate an appropriately easy letdown. Unfortunately, that gives Tia just enough time to jump in and make my life a little harder than it was fifteen seconds ago.

“Of course she will,” Tia says, stepping up to us from where she was standing closer to the door.

Jet and I start to respond at the same time.

“Tia, I—” I begin.

“I don’t want to impose if you think—” Jet says.

But Tia interrupts us both.

“I don’t want to hear excuses. This isn’t the place for excuses, right? This is a place where we can be real with each other, where we come for help. Jet, Vi is an amazing person and such a great fixer. And you need fixing. This is right up her alley,” she says, turning to smile meaningfully into my eyes. “She’s helped me so much, and I know she can help you, too. She’s just shy. Once you get past that, I think you two will really be able to . . . connect.”

Ohmigod! Tia!

Jet turns his penetrating gaze back to me. The hopeful yet hesitant look in them is the very reason that I want to agree. “I really could use the help.”

I look back and forth between Jet and Tia. I tell myself that I really can’t say no now. If I protest too much, it might seem suspicious. Plus, this might be a great way to keep Tia coming to the meetings.

Yeah, that’s what I tell myself. The problem is that I’m a little too pleased to agree. And that is not a good sign.

“I’ll do it,” I say, turning to Tia. “And since Tia will be coming back each week, she can help encourage you. These meetings are very important after all.”

Tia’s laugh is the nonverbal equivalent of a Touché! I give her my sweetest, most innocuous smile. “See, Violet, you’re always thinking.”

A short, uncomfortable silence falls between the three of us. Jet is the first to break it. “There’s more,” he says, clearing his throat. “One of the reasons I wanted to ask you tonight is that tomorrow night is one of those times that’s particularly hard for me. I wondered if maybe you would . . . if you could . . .”

“Of course she will,” Tia chimes in again, overenthusiastic. Now she’s doing it just to needle me. I see the challenge light her eyes. She’s enjoying this.

“We both will,” I add, sending a subtle glare at Tia. “Weekends are hard for Tia, too. This will be good for her.”

Tia punches me playfully on the shoulder. “Youuu,” she starts through gritted teeth, her smile notably forced, “you’re such a little . . . helper.”

I almost laugh. I have no doubt that sentence ended much differently in her head. But this is what she gets for putting her manipulative nose in my business. “That’s me.”

“Great, then let me give you the address,” Jet says. “Do you have your phone with you?”

“My phone?” I ask, not really understanding why he’d need that to give me an address.