“Starving,” I said, pasting on a smile.
I didn’t notice the tension in his shoulders until it eased, like he’d been bracing himself for an impact that never came.
“Hey!” Riff waved as we approached.
According to Bodhi, Riff had skipped drinking last night just in case he was needed. It was the kind of thing Bodhi complained about when we hung out, insisting his best friend should loosen up and stop worrying, though I never agreed with him out loud. I couldn’t. Because I saw it. The care. The quiet vigilance. The way Riff stayed close without smothering. The way Clara kept one eye on Bodhi while pretending she wasn’t. Not hovering, just... there.
They weren’t his label, concerned with profits and optics and keeping their most lucrative product in working order. These people actually gave a shit. His bandmates did too. Enough to make adjustments without complaint. Well, except Thump, but he was an idiot in the most affectionate sense of the word.
They were family. Brothers, forged through time and chaos and shared history. I couldn’t imagine any of them wanting to see Bodhi fall.
So, when he vented about their protectiveness, I let him. I listened. I nodded. But I never outright agreed. Because one day, if he stumbled, he’d need to remember that he wasn’t alone.
Unlike me.
Well, unlike theoldme.
I was lucky now. Lucky to be here. Lucky to be included. Lucky to have Bodhi, who was kind and attentive and apparently willing to kiss me senseless in a shadowy alcove.
And I was determined not to let him disappear on me again.
Bodhi took the seat beside Riff, and I slid in next to Clara. Rifflooked well rested, while Clara looked like death warmed over, clutching her black coffee like it was a life raft.
When a waiter set a plate of German sausage in front of Riff, I swear I heard her gag.
“Feeling rough?” I asked.
She nodded, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Should’ve followed your lead and stuck to water.”
I bit back a smile. Bodhi didn’t bother hiding his. It was strange, being the sober one in the group. Stranger still knowing Bodhi felt it too.
“At least you had fun,” I offered.
“I think I did,” she muttered into her mug. “Things got fuzzy after my third tequila.”
The waiter returned with a fruit salad for me, sausage for Bodhi, and coffee for the two of us. When Bodhi and Riff offered Clara a bite, she looked torn between committing murder and throwing up.
“What time’s the photoshoot?” Bodhi asked, shovelling eggs into his mouth.
Grateful for the subject change, Clara pulled out her phone. “Midday. You need to leave in about forty minutes.”
“Is everyone going?” I asked.
She shook her head. “Just Bodhi. Mick and Ghost have a radio interview, Thump will sleep all day, and Riff’s off.”
“Fuck yeah,” Riff said, stretching. “Snacks, Netflix, and later I’ll call my mom.”
“Mama’s boy,” Bodhi muttered fondly, laughing when Riff elbowed him.
I was finishing my last piece of melon when Bodhi nudged my foot under the table.
“What are you doing today?”
“Not sure,” I said. “Probably the same as Riff, minus the callto Mum, because...” I shrugged. “You know.”
His mouth curved into a soft smile. “Wanna come?”
My eyes widened. “To your photoshoot?”
