Was Drew? Had some accident—like falling off the Precipice—injured him so that he’d needed opioids for the pain, and he’d had trouble getting off them again?
Uncomfortable, I dropped my gaze to my beer glass, wrapping both hands around it as the only form of security available to me at the moment.
Drew was silent for maybe five seconds, and then, his voice quiet but with an edge, he said, "Why that specialty?"
I looked up. What was it I had said to Jennifer just this morning? She was in recovery, though I hadn’t known it at the time. Saying the same things to someone who probably had been—Jesus, or maybe still was—addicted, felt frighteningly different. So I didn’t mention any of what I understood addiction to be like.
"I was close to two people who were addicted to fentanyl. One has b
