Stand By Your Man by Susan Fox

abusive ex, ten years of estrangement from her son, dealing with bipolar disorder, getting and staying sober. Brooke had become a strong woman, but a strong woman knew her limitations and didn’t set herself up for failure.
    â€œThat’s one of the great things about you and Jamal, that you understand each other’s work.” Brooke put her mug down. Studying its contents, she said, “You both looked like you were having fun on Sunday.”
    Karen wiped her napkin across her upper lip to get rid of her whipped-cream-and-chocolate mustache. “We had a fantastic weekend. I’m trying to turn him into a fan of Caribou Crossing. The scenery, riding, line dancing.”
    Brooke moistened her lips. “Even our local brew.”
    â€œHmm?”
    The blonde glanced at Karen. “You introduced him to Caribou Crossing beer.”
    â€œOh, right.” She chuckled, remembering. “Poor Jamal. He ended up chucking his out.”
    â€œOh? What a waste.”
    â€œHe says alcohol hasn’t been agreeing with him lately. I told him he may have developed an allergy, and he should see a doctor.”
    â€œOh?” Brooke said again. Tiny muscles between her eyebrows pulled together slightly. If Karen hadn’t been gazing straight into her face, she’d have missed it.
    Body language often spoke more loudly and accurately than words, but she couldn’t read this small, probably involuntary, message. “Brooke? What’s on your mind? Is it hard for you, talking about beer when you don’t drink anymore?”
    â€œNo, it’s not—” She broke off, glanced away, picked up her mug again. Staring into it, she said, “Well, maybe a little.” Her voice sounded strained, and then it hardened as she went on. “I remember what it felt like holding a chilled bottle. Raising it to my lips.” She swallowed. “It’s a hard thing to beat, addiction.”
    â€œBut you’ve done it.” Karen studied her with concern. “Almost five years, right?”
    Brooke’s tense expression softened. “Right.” A smile, a rather secretive one, touched her lips. “There’s no danger I’m going to drink again.” Then that tiny frown returned. “I really need to get back.”
    â€œSo soon?”
    They exchanged good-byes and Brooke left, her mug of tea still half full.
    Odd. Odd behavior following an odd conversation. Brooke’s explanation rang true but instinct told Karen there was something more, something troubling, on her friend’s mind. If she was uncomfortable thinking about people drinking, why had she even raised the subject of seeing Karen and Jamal with bottles of beer?
    Karen sipped her own drink, barely tasting it as she let random thoughts drift through her mind.
    Brooke was an alcoholic yet she was fine with Jake drinking in front of her.
    When Karen had brought nonalcoholic bubbly to their celebration party, Brooke had mentioned to Jamal that it was nonalcoholic.
    Karen had never seen Jamal drink alcohol.
    Alcoholics kept each other’s secret.
    Undercover cops were subjected to a lot of temptation. Drugs, booze, prostitutes, gambling. Jamal had said that drinking could get to be a bad habit—
    No! Karen pressed both hands firmly against the table, rejecting that train of thought. Jamal had meant that he avoided drinking so it couldn’t become a bad habit. He was a good cop. And he wouldn’t keep this kind of secret from her. She trusted him.
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    Karen left the detachment just after seven on Friday evening. She stopped at the Japanese restaurant to pick up Caribou rainbow sushi—a local specialty using rainbow trout—and ate it as she walked to a meeting of the board of directors of the women’s shelter.
    During the board discussion, she tried to concentrate but anticipation filled her with a happy buzz. Tonight she’d see Jamal. This week he’d been back at