Resonance

Chapter 25

CHAPTER

TWENTY-FIVE

IGGY

“Iggy.”

Something brushed my face. I wanted to sink back into sleep, let exhaustion pull me under again, but the sensation wouldn’t let go.

“Iggy.”

The voice wrapped around me, warm and steady.

Safe. Somewhere deep in my chest, something loosened.

A distant part of my brain recognised it as Bodhi, and my heart reacted before logic could catch up, reaching for him, pleading silently for him to stay.

Because Bodhi shouldn’t be here. Not after last night.

Not after he’d walked away. Not after he’d seen what a mess I really was.

And yet my heart kept beating in time with his voice.

My eyes fluttered open.

He was lying beside me, bathed in soft morning light, the sun turning his dark hair gold at the edges.

He was smiling, and it took a second to realise the tickling sensation was his fingers, tracing my lips, my brows, the bridge of my nose.

Like he was mapping me by touch alone, committing me to memory.

“Is this a dream?” I asked quietly. Because Bodhi shouldn’t be smiling. Not after everything.

His smile widened, and he shook his head before leaning in to kiss my forehead. The warmth of it spread through me, down my spine and into my hands and feet, grounding me in my own body again.

“It’s not a dream, Iggy Pop.”

He kissed my forehead again. Then my nose. My cheek. My eyelids. And finally my lips, slow and careful, like he was afraid I might disappear.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered against his mouth. “I’m sorry for disappointing you.”

His arm slid around my waist and pulled me closer until we were pressed together, chest to chest, legs tangled. He rested his forehead against mine, blue eyes steady and bright in the daylight, anchoring me.

“You didn’t disappoint me,” he said. “You fell. And then you got back up.” A soft kiss followed. “You asked for help. I’m proud of you.”

My eyes burned. I didn’t know how I still had tears left after the last few days, but they came anyway, spilling over at the words. No one had ever said that to me before. Not like this. Not meaning it.

I tucked my face into the hollow of his neck and breathed him in. “Thank you.”

Fully awake now, the memories returned in pieces. Crying on the shower floor when the comedown hit. Bodhi stepping in fully clothed, wrapping himself around me without hesitation. Holding me while I fell apart. Riff crouching nearby, quiet and kind, telling me he was glad I was okay.

And admitting, finally, that I wasn’t.

That I wasn’t ready yet.

That I couldn’t do this alone.

That I needed help.

I’d cried. Bodhi had cried. Riff had cried, which apparently qualified as a minor historical event. And once the tears had finally dried and we’d laughed weakly at the sheer absurdity of it all, they helped me out of the shower.

Riff disappeared and came back with clean, dry clothes. Bodhi stayed, towelling my hair and gently working a comb through the tangles like it was the most natural thing in the world. After that, the three of us went to Clara’s room.

She hadn’t been thrilled to see us at four in the morning. But Bodhi sat her down and told her everything. How we’d met. Why we’d lied. That I was an addict too. That I’d relapsed.

At first she was angry. Hurt, and rightfully so. But when Bodhi explained why I’d needed to be Iggy the person, not Iggy the addict, something in her shifted. Her frustration softened into something more practical. More human.

That was when the planning started.

I told Bodhi that if I was going back to rehab, it had to be the Willow. I knew it and trusted it. I knew the counsellors, the routines, Dr Williams. It was familiar and safe. A place I could restart my recovery surrounded by memories I’d made with Bodhi.

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’d never 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 make sure I got where I needed to be. I opened my mouth to protest, but Bodhi spoke first.

“She offered,” he said gently. “She’ll stay with you until you’re checked in at the Willow. Make sure you’re safe and comfortable.” He shrugged. “We can survive without her for twenty-four hours. Mostly.”

I laughed quietly, imagining the chaos that would unfold if these five men were left unsupervised for even a single day.

“She’s very brave,” I murmured. “Leaving you to fend for yourselves.”

His hand moved in slow, steady circles on my back. “I wanted to take you myself,” he admitted. “But we’ve got a show tomorrow, and . . .”

He didn’t need to finish the sentence.

The tour came first.

Noctis had too much riding on this for Bodhi to mess up now. Too much to lose if something went wrong. All it would take was one delayed flight, one missed show, to undo months of planning. He had to play the game. I understood that and respected it.

“It’s okay, Just Bodhi,” I said quietly. “I understand.”

I reached up and traced a finger along his cupid’s bow, and suddenly I was desperate.

To kiss him. To touch him and feel him. I wanted him to cover me in his scent, to work himself so deeply into me that I could carry a piece of him with me when I left.

Something permanent. Something I could hold onto if this all fell apart. One last memory, etched into my bones.

I lifted myself from his chest, kicking off the duvet, and crawled up his body until my face hovered over his. Bodhi’s breath caught, sharp and audible, and his hands came to my hips, gripping hard enough that I wondered if I’d bruise.

I wanted to. Wanted to see the marks later, alone in my room at the Willow. To watch them fade from purple to green to yellow as the days passed. I needed proof that this had been real.

“What are you doing, Iggy?” he rasped.

I leaned in until there was barely an inch between us, close enough that my breath brushed his lips. His tongue flicked out instinctively, like he was tasting the air between us. Taking a piece of me too.

“Giving you something to remember me by,” I whispered.

Then I kissed him.

I poured everything into it. The fear, the joy, the doubt.

The apologies. And most of all, the love.

I didn’t need words for that. I made sure he felt it as I lowered myself, straddling his thighs.

As my fingers slipped beneath his T-shirt and traced the muscle there, feeling his abs twitch beneath my touch.