Enough that he went down.
When my sight cleared, he was sitting on the floor, flat on his ass, staring up at me with wide, watery eyes. His lower lip trembled.
“Bodhi—” His voice broke.
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. I stayed pressed to the wall as I edged towards the door, the space between us stretching wider with every step. It felt like a crack opening in the floor, a deep, bottomless divide I couldn’t cross without losing myself.
My fingers fumbled for the handle as Iggy tried to get up. He slipped, hit the floor again, then dragged himself upright on shaky legs. He reached for me, sobbing now, his body betraying him with every movement.
“Bodhi,” he cried, my name tumbling out over and over like a prayer. “Please—don’t—don’t go.” He grabbed at the dresser for balance. “Don’t leave me.”
I yanked the door open and slipped into the hallway, slamming it shut before he could reach me.
And for the second time that day, I ran from Iggy’s room without looking back.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FOUR
BODHI
The amber liquidin the glass seemed to taunt me. It caught the warm light above the bar and glowed like something precious. Hints of caramel and vanilla curled up from the surface, sweet and inviting, cut through with something sharper beneath it. The oversized spheres of ice were melting, slowly diluting the rich colour, thinning it out. Still, the whiskey remained. The alcohol didn’t disappear just because it was watered down.
I’d ordered it on instinct the moment I stepped into the hotel bar.
It was where I’d ended up after turning my back on Iggy again. A place that used to feel like a sanctuary, but now only echoed with reminders of my own history. Of failure. Of how easily old habits waited, patient and familiar, just beneath the surface.
“Whiskey on the rocks,” had slipped from my mouth without effort. Automatic, comfortable. Like speaking a language I hadn’t used in a while but never truly forgot. When the bartender set the crystal tumbler in front of me, my chest had tightened. My mouth went dry, then watered. My tonguetwitched, eager for a taste. Just a sip. Something small. Something to take the edge off.
But I hadn’t touched it.
I sat hunched on the high stool, elbows close to my sides, staring at the glass as the ice slowly broke down. My hands rested on the marble bar, palms flat, grounding myself in the cool surface beneath them. Somewhere in the back of my mind, a quiet, cruel voice whispered that I deserved it. That it would warm me from the inside out. Smooth over the sharp, splintering edges I could feel starting to crack.
My willpower held.
That part surprised me. Despite the pull, the ache, the familiarity of the craving, I didn’t actually want to give in. I didn’t want to undo the work I’d fought so hard for. Didn’t want to throw my sobriety away over this. Partly because I knew I shouldn’t.
But mostly because of Iggy.
Because when he came down, when the false euphoria burned off and left nothing but reality in its wake, he would need me. He would need someone steady. Someone clear-headed enough to help him gather the pieces and try to fit them back together again.
I needed to be that person.
And I couldn’t be if I gave in.
So I stayed there, watching the ice melt, waiting for the fear and hurt to loosen their grip long enough for something stronger to take their place. Bravery, maybe. Resolve. I didn’t know how long it would take. I only knew that an hour hadn’t been enough.
“I hope you’re not going to drink that.”
Riff’s voice startled me, then immediately eased some of the tension coiled in my chest.
“I’m not,” I said honestly. “I was just looking at it.”
He slid onto the stool beside me and rested a hand on my back, squeezing my shoulder in quiet solidarity. The bar was almost empty at this hour, and the bartender appeared before either of us could say anything.
“Water, please,” Riff said, not even glancing at the whiskey.
She nodded and returned moments later, setting a full glass in front of him. Riff dragged a finger through the condensation gathering along the side, eyes flicking briefly to the untouched tumbler between us.
