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Authors: Zoraida Cordova

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BOOK: Life on the Level
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“I need you, Hutch.”

He answers by ripping my shirt right down the middle, and before I can blink, my underwear is somewhere across the room. I gasp at his speed, his urgency, and his recklessness.

He pushes me down onto the bed and goes down on me. He licks me up and down, dragging circles around my clit that make me shout. For the first time since
the first time
, we don’t have to be quiet. I dig my nails into his shoulder to bring him back up. He comes willingly, sliding me up the bed. He pins my hands over my head and parts my legs with his knees.

“You didn’t actually let me win, did you?”

I answer with a mischievous smile, and a bite on his lower lip. I start to answer, but his dick finds its way inside of me. I wriggle against him. I shout his name. I tell him I love him, and I’m pretty sure his distant neighbors now know it, too.

When we’re finished, he rolls off me, panting and sweaty.

I find my way back into his arms.
Try harder
, I tell myself. I rest my hand on top of his chest, feel the way it rises and falls with every word and thundering heartbeat.

Try harder
.

“I love you.”

He kisses me. “Are you going to show me your cards?”

“Isn’t it enough that I folded?”

“You never fold.”

I sink into the blissful feeling of his warmth. “For a long time, I had nothing left to lose. It was just money. Then suddenly, it was you. It’s like you said. I’ll be damned before I walk away from you again, Chris Hutcherson.”

Chapter 41
Twenty-eight days sober

Starting over is harder the third time around. Mostly because I’m afraid of change. But also because I’ve never lived with a boyfriend before.

After all the charges were dropped against Randy and me, Hutch’s house belonged to him again. We donated some money from our gambling night to HCRC. Helen and Ransom sent us a beautiful letter and apology. Though I don’t think I deserved it. The rest of the money went to my twenty-eight days at a rehab clinic in Seattle. It was the worst and best possible way to spend those days without Hutch, without anyone else.

In some ways I loved HCRC better. My Seattle counselor was nothing like Ransom. She wanted to talk too much about my mother, which is fine. Not everything can be fixed with pretty words, and I accept that. But the food was better at HCRC too, and the people were friendlier, and as much as I hate to admit it, I missed being in the outdoors. Nothing compares to Montana.

It’s strange how a place, and people, can change you. I know I’m still me at the core. But I feel different. More open. Free.

Though Helen offered Hutch a reference, he declined. He’s getting a degree in child psychology while tending bar in Zoo Town. We both have a lot of making up to do. I’m not sure what I want to do with my life, but I’m happy figuring it out with Hutch at my side.

But first, he needs to see where I come from.

• • •

We take a trip to New York. I love the way Hutch walks too slowly against Midtown traffic. I love his face when he sees a man walking around with a cat perched on his head. I love his smile when he meets Pepe and Tony, and the rest of my adopted family. We leave flowers at my dad’s grave, and I dig a hole in the ground and leave a poker chip from my last game.

“You don’t like it here,” I tell him, as we’re walking around Central Park.

I’ve got on more clothes than an Eskimo, but he’s okay in just his wool coat. “It’s different,” he says. “The snow’s black.”

“That’s because of car exhaust, and people peeing and walking on it all day.”

He rolls his eyes and pulls me against him. “It’s loud.”

“There are literally millions of people living here.”

“The food’s good.”

“I know!”

New York makes me happy, but Hutch makes me happier. I was afraid that my feelings for him were replacing my need to gamble, but I was wrong. My feelings for Hutch are just love. It’s a strange and funny thing to be really, truly in love for the first time. Sometimes I want to deny it. Other times I want to revel in the certainty of us.

I’ve never believed in luck or destiny, but walking into that bar and meeting Hutch was just that.

• • •

We pack up my storage unit, and he’s surprised by how much black clothing I own.

“When we get back to Montana, I’m going to get you a proper pair of riding boots. And a cowboy hat.”

“Cowgirl hat,” I correct him.

We make love, and kiss, and make love some more. It takes a week to pack and load things into the U-Haul attached to his truck. Leti and Sky come to see us off. You’d think I was moving to Australia, the way they cry.

When we get across the bridge and into New Jersey, I make him stop.

“Changing your mind?” he asks, holding my hand for moral support.

I watch the skyline a little longer. The buildings reach unapologetically to the sky, like the trees in Montana. The sky does seem a lot smaller over here. I tell myself that I’ll always be the little girl from Queens with the best poker face this side of the Hudson. I tell myself to stop running away from who I was, because there was nothing wrong with her. She was different, but still the same. She is me, and I am her. We can’t run from the past, the same way we can’t pretend to be someone we’re not. That’s how you remain broken.

I breathe in cold New York air as if it’s the last dregs of the last cigarette I’ll ever smoke. In a few days we’ll be back in Montana. I was wrong. It’s not the middle of nowhere. It’s exactly where I need to be.

“This is just a place.” I shake my head. He lowers himself for a kiss. “You’re my home.”

Acknowledgments

As always, a huge thanks to Adrienne Rosado, agent extraordinaire. To Sarah Younger, my equine instructor and wonderful friend.

To the excellent team at Diversion Books: Laura Duane, Mary Cummings, Sarah Masterson Hally, and Trent Hart. Thanks for giving my trio of misfit girls a great home.

Horse Creek Recovery is completely fictional, but the people who struggle with addiction are not. Thanks to everyone who was willing to speak to me about their recovery journeys.

An enormous thanks to Candice Montgomery and Erica Cameron for answering my emails on the technical aspects of recovery centers. To Elizabeth Briggs for being a thoughtful beta reader. To the badass ladies of NA Hideaway. Your stories and support mean the world to me. To Brodi and our French poker crew. You guys are Ace.

To my friends and family for being the world’s greatest cheerleaders.

For anyone who wants to do more research on rehab and recovery, some of the books I read were
All Bets Are Off: Losers, Liars, and Recovery from Gambling Addiction
by Arnie Wexler, and
Sex, Drugs, Gambling & Chocolate: A Workbook for Overcoming Addictions
by Dr. A. Thomas Horvath.

For everyone starting over, struggling, or just trying to get through this funny thing called life. And finally, for the angry, broken, lost girls. You are not alone.

More from Zoraida Córdova

ZORAIDA CÓRDOVA was born in Guayaquil, Ecuador and raised in Queens, NY. She studied English Literature at Hunter College and The University of Montana. She is the author of the Vicious Deep trilogy, Labyrinth Lost, and the On the Verge series. She lives in New York City. Send her a tweet
@zlikeinzorro
.

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BOOK: Life on the Level
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