Except this time, I’d be alone.
He wouldn’t be there to distract me when the cravings hit. Or to talk to at three in the morning when sleep refused to come. I’d have to face it without him, and that thought scared me more than I wanted to admit.
So I panicked and told them all I couldn’t do it. I cried again while Bodhi held me, whispering reassurances into my hair. That I was strong and brave. That I didn’t have to know how to do this perfectly. I just had to try.
Eventually, I agreed.
Then came the next wave of panic. My parents. The humiliation of proving Marc right and handing them another mess to clean up.
But this time was different. This time I wasn’t alone.
I had Bodhi. I had Riff and Clara. And even if Mick, Ghost, and Thump didn’t know what had happened yet, Bodhi promised they’d stand by me anyway. He tucked me into his bed, far away from the ghosts in my own room, and told me he’d take care of everything. That he and Clara would handle the logistics. All I had to do was sleep.
So here I was. Waking up beside a smiling Bodhi.
Knowing this might be the last time.
Sometime today, I’d probably be sent back to the English countryside, to spend the next three months rebuilding myself piece by piece. By the time I got out, the European tour would be over. Bodhi would be back in LA, back to his life.
I’d always imagined we’d have time. A few more weeks to figure out what we were. To make plans and ease into something real. I hadn’t realised how quickly the sand would run out. The hourglass had emptied while I wasn’t looking.
“You’re tense,” Bodhi murmured, fingers threading through my hair. “What are you thinking about?”
I snuggled closer, breathing in the sandalwood that always clung to his skin. “Us,” I admitted softly. “What happens next.”
He sighed and pressed a kiss to the crown of my head. “Well. First, you go back to rehab,” he said into my hair. “And I’ll call you every week during phone time on Sundays.”
“What if you’re busy?”
He leaned back just enough to look at me. “I will always make time to call you, Iggy,” he said firmly. “I promised I’dnever let you feel alone. That includes setting aside time to tell you how much I love you.”
My fingers curled into the front of his T-shirt, grounding myself in the warmth of him. All of this. His body heat. His grumpiness and his kindness. His dry humour. His kisses.
“I love you too.”
We lay there for a while without speaking, just breathing each other in, sharing warmth like we were trying to store it up for later. Eventually, Bodhi rolled onto his back and pulled me with him, settling me against his chest. I pressed my ear to his sternum, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart, letting it calm the static in my head.
“What happens then?” I croaked, my voice still rough from all the crying. “After rehab.”
His arms tightened around me. “One step at a time,” he said. “Rehab first. Then the rest of our lives together.”
Something light and fragile fluttered in my chest.
Together.
I liked the sound of that.
“Okay.” My fingers traced lazy shapes on his shoulder. “What time is it?”
He fished his phone from the bed. “Eight.”
I glanced up at him. “So... what’s the plan?”
Now that I was fully awake, I could see how exhausted he was. The shadows under his eyes were darker again, his porcelain skin washed pale with fatigue. I didn’t know how long he’d stayed awake after I fell asleep, but I doubted it had been a short time.
“Checkout’s at one,” he said. “Then Noctis flies to Rome. You and Clara will come to the airport with us, but she’ll take you to London.”
My throat tightened. Clara was leaving the band to makesure I got where I needed to be. I opened my mouth to protest, but Bodhi spoke first.
