Several dozen photos later, the fans finally drifted away, and the moment they were gone, we both collapsed into our seats. My stomach twisted with leftover adrenaline.
“That was hard,” Bodhi whispered. He dropped his head into his hands.
“I almost said yes,” I admitted, my voice barely working. My throat closed up, and my eyes burned. “If you hadn’t stepped in, I would’ve... I-I would’ve...”
My breaths sped up. My fists clenched so tight my knuckles cracked.
“Iggy,” Bodhi said gently.
I shook my head. I couldn’t look at him. If I looked at him, he’d see how ashamed I was. How close I’d come to screwing up not just my recovery, but possibly his too.
“You were the reason I said no.”
I jerked my head up. “What?”
“I was so close to saying yes.” He reached out and pried my fingers open, tracing shapes in my palm until my lungs stopped clawing for air. “But then I looked at you, scared out of your mind, and I just... couldn’t. Not to you. And not to me either.”
“Bodhi,” I breathed.
“I know we should be doing meetings, getting sponsors, all that recovery shit,” he went on, eyes fixed on our hands. “But it’s hard on tour. I’m sure virtual meetings help, but...”
“It feels weird,” I finished. “Like you’re on a work Zoom, not talking to other addicts.”
He nodded, letting go of my hand. He looked as defeated as I felt, and I hated it. This wasn’t the version of Bodhi I liked. I liked him teasing, laughing, making fun of me, like we weren’t always one bad decision away from self-destructing.
No. I wasn’t letting us spiral.
“We should help each other.”
Bodhi blinked. “Huh?”
“It might be the worst idea ever.” And wow, it truly, truly might. But I was committed now. “But we should help each other. Keep an eye out. Keep each other accountable.”
He frowned, but he was listening. “Like a pact?”
“Yep. A sober pact.”
“A sober pact,” he echoed.
“You and me. Responsible for ourselves and for each other. Sober pact.”
“Sober pact.”
“We’ve established the name,” I snapped. “Are you in?”
He hesitated. Reasonably. Sensibly. But reason wasn’t exactly running the show right now. The idea of someone who got it watching my back, and me watching theirs, felt like a lifeline.
“Is this a good idea?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” I admitted quietly, taking both his hands. “But I care about you, Bodhi. You’re my friend. I want you to succeed. I wantmeto succeed. And with each other’s help... maybe we can.”
He didn’t answer at first. Long enough that I braced for him to back out.
Then he squeezed my hands.
“Okay,” he said softly. “I’m in.”
“You’re in?” I exhaled, tension melting from my shoulders.
