Blow
Author: Heidi McLaughlin
Date: 2016-11-08 05:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Romance; Contemporary Romance; Contemporary; Music; New Adult; Musicians
Description: Meet the complicated men behind the sexiest boy band in America! In Blow, the start of an emotionally charged series from bestselling author Heidi McLaughlin, an insatiable heartthrob gets blinded by the spotlight—and learns to fight for love. Bodhi McKnight has always had everything handed to him on a silver platter: fame, success, money, girls. The raven-haired, blue-eyed hottie is the son of Hollywood A-listers, and when he’s asked to join the boy band Virtuous Paradox, his star shoots even higher. But so do expectations, leading Bodhi down a destructive path of addiction—until a drop-dead

Blow is a work of fiction. Names, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

A Loveswept Ebook Original

Copyright © 2016 by Heidi McLaughlin

Excerpt from Necessary Evil by Jamie K. Schmidt copyright © 2016 by Jamie K. Schmidt

All rights reserved.

Published in the United States by Loveswept, an imprint of Random House, a division of Penguin Random House LLC, New York.

LOVESWEPT is a registered trademark and the LOVESWEPT colophon is a trademark of Penguin Random House LLC.

This book contains an excerpt from the forthcoming book Necessary Evil by Jamie K. Schmidt. This excerpt has been set for this edition only and may not reflect the final content of the forthcoming edition.

Ebook ISBN 9780425285237

Cover design: Diane Luger

Cover photograph: Miljan Mladenovic/Shutterstock
randomhousebooks.com
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Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Prologue

Chapter 1: Bodhi

Chapter 2: Bodhi

Chapter 3: Kimberly

Chapter 4: Bodhi

Chapter 5: Bodhi

Chapter 6: Kimberly

Chapter 7: Bodhi

Chapter 8: Kimberly

Chapter 9: Bodhi

Chapter 10: Bodhi

Chapter 11: Bodhi

Chapter 12: Kimberly

Chapter 13: Bodhi

Chapter 14: Bodhi

Chapter 15: Bodhi

Chapter 16: Kimberly

Chapter 17: Bodhi

Chapter 18: Kimberly

Chapter 19: Bodhi

Chapter 20: Bodhi

Chapter 21: Kimberly

Chapter 22: Bodhi

Chapter 23: Kimberly

Chapter 24: Bodhi

Chapter 25: Kimberly

Chapter 26: Bodhi

Epilogue: Bodhi

Dedication

Acknowledgments

By Heidi McLaughlin

About the Author

Excerpt from Necessary Evil

Prologue

The crowd chants an abbreviation of our name, over and over again. VeeP…VeeP…VeeP…echoes throughout the venue as Brayden, Carson, and I stand side by side with our arms raised high in the air. We exit stage left with me bringing up the rear of the three-man train, and I stumble into Carson when he pulls up short.

“Let’s go back out there,” he says with a shit-eating grin on his face. I shake my head and bypass him, heading right for my assistant, Aspen.

“Come on, man. One last time,” Carson pleads. I roll my eyes, but Aspen is the only one who can see my face. “Listen to that audience. We sold the fuck out. Let’s give them one more song.”

Aspen has what I need. I can see the little brown bottle filled with white powder resting in the palm of her hand. It beckons me. Calls my name, ready to invade my system. The nose candy that keeps me awake and able to perform is within arm’s reach, and I have to have it.

I extend my arm to Aspen, who drops the vial into my waiting hand. Even holding it gives me a thrill, although the feeling is short-lived when I’m instructed to turn around and get in line.

I turn, ready to give Carson a piece of my mind, but our manager, Rebel Van Zandt, is standing right there, eyeing me. Rebel’s the baddest bitch in show business and you’re risking your life if you dare to disobey her. Given the opportunity, she’d rip me from limb to limb and watch me bleed out slowly just to get her fucking kicks.

Virtuous Paradox was an unlikely group at the beginning, but we’ve taken the world by storm. What started out as a test quickly turned into a phenomenon. Rebel chose me, along with Brayden and Carson, to form this band. One hurdle back then was I’d never performed in public aside from the yearly Christmas party my Hollywood director father and movie star mother threw. Rebel had seen me sing and apparently was sold. I thought it was a joke until she put the three of us up onstage, took our photo, and asked us all what we saw.

To me, it looked like two dudes with amazing talent, plus me. Yeah, I have charisma, sex appeal, and striking blue bedroom eyes. But that’s not talent. When I saw myself standing next to them, I felt like I didn’t belong. Rebel vowed to prove me wrong.

And she has.

She made promises that I thought could never be reached: number one hits, music videos, the female population lining up to have their picture taken with us, fathers lining up to buy our concert tickets and posters of our ugly mugs soon to be plastered on every teenage girl’s bedroom wall.

We’re household names. Everyone has heard of us. They may not like us, but when our songs come on the radio and they’re alone in their cars, they’re singing along. I know they are. They move their shoulders to the beat, hold their hands up in the air, and shake their ass like they’re the ones performing our songs. When it’s over, they go back to hating us, and that’s okay, because for every one person who doesn’t buy our music, there are ten others buying every copy.

I owe it to the fans to go back out there one more time. There are thirty thousand screaming, horny women all begging for a piece of the action, and we’re going to give it to them.

“What the fuck ever,” I say as I stand in formation. We’ve been touring for a year, nonstop, and this is our last show. I’m exhausted, sore, and ready for this to be all over. We’ll have a month off before we start recording our next album. We get thirty fucking days to rest and get back to work. What’s the point of being the best if you can’t take time off to enjoy it? How about a trip to Cancun, where I can entertain some co-eds? Anything?

The lights dim and the band starts up, causing a level of screaming that I’ve never heard before. Carson looks back at me as if he’s telling me that he was right. He’s excited. I get that, but I’m also ready to be done. I’m fucking ready to go home and sleep in my own bed. As soon as he turns I bend down and pop the lid off the vial, insert it into my nostril, and breathe in deeply. I pinch my nose shut, letting the coke work its way into my system, while looking around to see if anyone noticed me. The last thing I want is for someone to see me snorting coke and get all righteous on my ass. I’m not addicted. I can quit anytime I want. I just don’t want to. Being high and performing under the lights is a fucking trip. Why would I give that up?

Everything about my performance is robotic. I’m going through the moves, singing the lyrics, and doing what I need to do so I can get the fuck out of here. If Carson, Brayden, or even Rebel wants yet another encore, they’re on their own. I’m ready to party and put this tour behind me. And with Aspen waiting in the wings, a night of getting fucked up is inevitable.

Soon we’re once again standing in the center of the stage with our arms raised. We take a bow, wave, and take another bow. I’m waiting for Brayden to move toward the exit, but he’s not going. He’s standing there, waving like a fucking fool.

“Yo, Bray,” I say, trying to get his attention, but he’s lost in the moment. I get it, I do. But this isn’t our first show. The high of performing has worn off; it’s time to drop the curtain and get fucked up.

Chapter 1

Bodhi

As I crack open my bedroom door and look around the room, I barely see the people standing there. They’re mingling, thinking they’re at a celebrity’s house to party. When Aspen has people over I tend to stay in my bedroom, away from prying eyes and cellphone cameras. The last thing I need is for people to see me doing a line, because they’d put that shit all over social media in a blink of an eye, and that’s a headache I don’t need.

These past thirty days have been bliss. No cameras, no staged locations, no fucking smiling for grabby-ass people who are trying to cop a feel. All that shit changes when Virtuous Paradox goes back to work. A few days from now my mug will be plastered all over every fan site, blog, and Twitter account because Rebel can’t seem to keep our recording locations under wraps.

When the noise dies down and the last guest leaves, Aspen yells that it’s all clear. I open my bedroom door, only to find her standing there in her panties and bra with a bottle of tequila in her hand.

“Where’re your clothes?”

She shrugs and sashays into my bedroom. Of course I watch her; her ass is practically bare and I’m horny. Although sleeping with her would be a major mistake on my part. Thanks to Aspen and her endless supply of drugs, I’m on the tail end of a month-long bender. I haven’t eaten, showered, or slept in days. Tomorrow my life changes. It’s back to work, back to long hours in the recording studio and learning ridiculous dance moves that have been choreographed for the sole purpose of entertaining women. Considering the way they make us mimic sex, the record label ought to just give us a pole to dance around.

Sex sells.

That’s all we hear, over and over again. Sexier lyrics. Sexier moves. Make love to the camera. As far as I’m concerned, that camera gets around.

Aspen lies on the bed next to me, and my eyes betray me as I take her all in. Like any red-blooded man, I’m aroused, but I know better. I wish I’d find her attractive, but I don’t. She’s too skinny and does way too many drugs. The pot calling the kettle black, I know, but I can stop anytime I want. She can’t. And when she comes down from her high, it’s a scary fucking scene around here. Curtains, dishes, and mirrors have been replaced in the past month because she turns into a deranged lunatic.

Aspen sits up, grabs the bottle of tequila from my bedside table, and dribbles some down my chest. The shit is cold, and before I can protest, her mouth is covering my nipple.

“Why don’t you like me?” she asks before she starts licking my torso.

“I do. I let you live here, remember?” That’s the only answer I want to give her. Letting her move in was a mistake, but one I’ve dealt with. When I’m home and needing a fix, she always comes through for me.

“But you never want to fuck.”

My head starts to pound as I try to focus on her. I should be chilling right now, letting my high wear off so that I can focus tomorrow. If I show up like this, Rebel is going to fucking kill me.

“We’re friends,” I remind her. It’s not the answer she wants.

She straddles me and removes her bra. Aspen grabs her tits, pulling at her puckered nipples as she grinds into me.

“Fuck, Aspen, why do you do this shit?”

“I’m horny,” she whines.

I’m horny too, but I don’t tell her that. I can easily call one of the chicks whose numbers are in my phone and ask them to come over, but I don’t. I don’t push her off me either. Instead my hand reaches out to stroke her bare leg, and she moves back slightly, allowing my fingers to roam until they’re grazing her pussy.

“If you don’t want to fuck, you should stop,” she tells me, giving me a warning, but I can’t make my brain work now that my fingers are touching her.

Aspen doesn’t care, though, and slides down my legs enough to fumble with the button on my shorts, and when I hear the zipper, I lift my hips for her. All against my better judgment. The cool air from the air conditioner bites a little until her hot mouth wraps around my cock, only to pull away so she can drag her teeth softly against my shaft until my dick is bobbing against her mouth.

Aspen digs her nails into my legs, scraping along my skin, back and forth, each movement coming closer to my cock. I gasp when her cool hand wraps around my base and strokes slowly. With every other pass her tongue darts out to lick my tip, driving me mad.

My fingers dig into the comforter as I focus on the ceiling. I need to tell her to stop, but I can’t form the words. As soon as her mouth envelops my cock, I hiss and tell myself that it’s only a blow job and I need to enjoy the pleasure she’s bringing me.

“Your fucking mouth,” I say, encouraging her for more.

Aspen’s head bobs up and down, my dick tickling the back of her throat. I flex my hips and start fucking her mouth. With one hand pumping my shaft, she uses the other to play with my balls, rolling my nuts between her fingers, tugging lightly.

When she pulls away, I want to cry, because I’m not done. But she surprises me when she drenches my dick with saliva and starts fucking me into oblivion with her mouth. I’m getting my own special porn treatment, and I love every minute of it.

I let her control the tempo for a minute or so before I start to help her out by pushing my hips into her. She fucking moans against my dick, causing my nuts to stir.

“I’m going to fucking come,” I warn her, thinking she’ll move away, but she doesn’t. She grips my ass instead, digging her nails into my heated flesh and swallowing my throbbing cock.

My release is quick and in spurts as I buck into her mouth. She takes it like a champ, swallowing everything I give her. Aspen sits back on her heels, wiping the corners of her mouth. She’s a fucking dirty girl and I love it.

“My turn,” she says, lying down next to me. I should’ve known this was going to be an I’ll-do-you-and-you-do-me type of arrangement. I continue to stare at the ceiling, wondering how I’m going to get out of this and still have a tiny bit of dignity left. I have to give her something to appease her.

Aspen tries to cuddle, resting her head on my chest with her leg hitched over mine. Her nails trail up and down my torso in an affectionate way, making me feel like a total piece of shit.

“Can we try something?” I say at last.

“Anything,” she says. She’s too perky when she responds, not knowing what I want to do. I push her over onto her back, reach for the drawer on my bedside table, and pull out a vial of coke. When I look back at her, she’s naked with her legs spread enough for me to take my position between them.

Her body is there for the taking. It should interest me. The sight of tits and a pussy should have my cock hard and begging to be buried deep in her folds, except the vial between my fingers is more important. The contents excite me more, reminding me that when I’m high nothing else matters.

I open the vial and use my finger to tap some of the contents onto one of her breasts. Her nipple puckers in anticipation. I give her one lick and we both hiss, but clearly for different reasons. Aspen is turned on, and I’m relishing the sensation of my favorite drug seeping into my system. She arches her back, needing more from me. I watch her as my tongue darts out to take her candy-coated tit into my mouth, letting my tongue swirl around her bud until I’ve licked it all up.

“Fuck, that’s so good.” I don’t waste any time before tapping a line of coke along her skin. I dig through my drawer for something to use, and finally find a cut-in-half straw.

“Are you going to fuck me after this?”

“I’ll do anything you want if you hold still.” I regret the words the second they come out of my mouth.

Aspen lies before me with a line of blow centered down her torso. She watches me while I admire…everything. I glide my hands up her sides until my hands are cupping her tits, with the straw in one hand scraping against her skin. It would be so easy to take her right now. To slide into her wet pussy and pound the shit out of her. But my mind wants something else and she has it. She doesn’t flinch when I drag the straw down her body and press it into her skin. My movements are jagged, not smooth like if I were using a mirror, but effective nonetheless. I push along her torso snorting the line of coke I laid out on her body. When I reach the end I lick the residue, wiping her clean until my mouth is on hers and my tongue is thrusting into her mouth, sharing what’s left. She spreads her legs and bucks her hips, showing me what she wants in return.

“Fuck, Aspen.”

“I know,” she says as she reaches between us, grabs for my dick, and starts stroking. “Have you ever put a little here?” she asks as she plays with the tip of my cock. “Have you ever fucked while you’re high?”

Before I can answer, the sound of a new voice startles me. “What the fuck is going on?”

I jump up from being on top of Aspen to find Rebel standing in my doorway. I push my hair out of my face and try to control my breathing, but the coke is working its way through my system right now and it’s moving fast.

“What are you doing in my apartment?”

“Pull your pants up and get your ass out here.”

I do as she says because she holds the key to my future.

When I walk out to the living room, she’s not alone. My father is there, looking none too pleased. And sitting on my couch is a man I’ve never met before.

“What’s going on?”

“Sit down, Bodhi,” my dad says.

“I’ll stand, thanks.” I don’t know what’s going on, but something in the pit of my stomach tells me that I’m not going to like it.

My dad pushes me toward the couch. At first I pause, but the look in his eyes tells me I need to move. I go reluctantly, taking an available chair instead of sitting next to the random stranger.

“Does someone want to tell me what’s going on?” I ask again, even though I have a feeling I’m asking for confirmation of something I’ve feared in the back of my mind for a long time now.

“I think you know what this is, Bodhi,” my dad states. His hands are clasped in front of him as he leans toward me. “We’re worried.”

“What about?” I avoid looking at anyone in the room.

“About your drug use,” Rebel says. Suddenly something catches her eye, and I quickly follow her gaze toward my bedroom door, where Aspen is trying to slip out unnoticed. By now I’m certain that everyone in the room heard what was going on in there.

“Recreational drug use isn’t a crime.”

“What you’re doing isn’t recreational, Bodhi.”

“Come on, Dad. I’m not doing anything that other people aren’t doing.” I glance at my now closed door, wishing Aspen was in here too. Instead she’s rushing down the hall with her drug bag over her shoulder, leaving. Fucking great.

Dad sighs and picks up a folder that is sitting on the table. He leafs through the contents and hands me a stack of photos. I thumb through the images while my stomach turns. In front of me, in color, are pictures of me from the bar and other places I’ve been hanging out.

I throw them back on the table and shrug. “So what? I went to a few parties.”

My dad jumps up and yells at me, “Is that all you have to say?”

The one person in the room that I don’t know rises more slowly from the couch and stands next to him, placing his hand on his shoulder.

“Let me try, Roger. Bodhi, I’m Dr. Gordon. I’ve been a friend of your father’s for a while, and he, along with your mother and Ms. Van Zandt, have grown concerned for your health.”

“I don’t need help. I’m not addicted.”

“When’s the last time you got high?” the doctor asks. I lean back in the chair and ignore him. I don’t know him and I don’t have to answer his questions.

“Bodhi, you need to answer him,” Rebel says. “Your spot with Virtuous Paradox hangs in the balance. You’ve known from the beginning that I won’t tolerate this type of behavior.”

“Fuck you all,” I yell, getting up. “I’m an adult, and if I want to get high, I can.”

My father pushes me down in the chair and looks me in the eyes. “You’re high right now.”

I shake my head, hoping he’ll buy the lie.

“He is, Roger. That’s what I caught him doing when I walked into his room.”

“Fucking bitch,” I mutter as I look away from my father.

“Can you give us a minute? I’d like to talk to my son, alone.”

It takes only a second for the room to clear. Not that they’ve gone far; they’re probably just down the hall and can hear whatever he says.

He pulls another chair over and sits down, resting his elbows on his thighs. “Rebel called. She’s been concerned for a while, but she couldn’t come out and accuse you of using until she saw you do it. It’s taken me some time to accept that you might be in trouble, but after witnessing what I did, I’m here to help. When’s the last time you used?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m not a fool, Bodhi. I’ve been in this business long enough to know an addict when I see one. So, let me ask you again. When was the last time you used?”

I pause, trying to think of an excuse to counter his suspicions, but the look on his face tells me I’m fighting a losing battle.

“Right before you got here.”

“And before that?”

I close my eyes and wish to hell that I wasn’t having this conversation with my father. He might not always have been around when I needed him, but he’s my dad and I respect him. I’m just happy my mom isn’t here to witness this.

“I can’t remember the last time I was sober.” Once the words are out of my mouth I feel relief, but that is quickly washed away as my brain starts telling me I need more coke so I don’t have to feel like a failure.

“Bodhi, what have you gotten yourself into?”

“I don’t know, but…”

“But what?”

I feel something wet dripping from my nose. I swipe at it, only to find a red streak on my hand. I wipe again, but there’s more blood, and before I know it, it’s dripping down my face and landing on my bare chest.

My dad hands me his hanky, only for it to become soaked with blood almost immediately.

With the help of my father, I make it to the bathroom and sit on the toilet so he can help stop my nosebleed. He isn’t saying much, but I’m expecting him to rip into me any second. I tilt my head back and immediately gag on the blood that is dripping down my throat; I have to hurry over to the sink to spit it out. And right beside me is my dad, running the water so I don’t have to see the blood accumulate in the sink.

“Put this up your nose.” He hands me a rolled wad of tissue that I cram up there, hoping to stop the bleeding. I make the mistake of looking at myself in the mirror, and what I see there is a drug-addicted deadbeat who used a drug that ate away his nasal cavity. That alone should be enough to make me quit, but it’s not. If there was a line to take, I’d do it right now just so I could forget all the fuckery that is happening.

I stare at the guy I am now, with my sunken cheeks, broken blood vessels in my face, and a wad of red-tinted toilet paper up my nose, and wonder how I got here so fast. It doesn’t take much, that’s for sure. Tears fall from my eyes and a rush of hatred comes over me. I hate myself. I hate my life. I cry while I look at the person I am with my dad standing behind me, his hand on my shoulder, not saying a word. He should yell, scream, and tell me how much of a loser I am.

My father has to tear me away from the mirror. I go, unwillingly, only because I need to torture myself. He closes the door to the bathroom and leans up against the wall.

“Look at me, Bodhi,” he demands.

I shake my head, not wanting him to see me like this anymore. The tears haven’t stopped and I’m nothing but a blubbering mess.

“Bodhi?”

“I can’t,” I tell him through sobs. “I can’t.”

He kneels in front of me, placing his hands on my forearms. “Bodhi, look at me,” he says again, this time softer. I do as he asks, expecting to see disappointment and rage, but what I see is only hurt. “What is it that you’re doing, son? Let me help you.”

I shake my head again, not wanting to tell my dad how stupid I’ve been, but the words come tumbling out before I can stop them. “Cocaine.”

“Is that it?”

My dad pulls me into his arms, not caring about his thousand-dollar suit getting ruined with bloodstains. He holds me to his chest, cradling my head while I cry into his shoulder.

“I don’t know whether to hug you or kick your ass for being so stupid,” he says. “The man I brought with me, he’s a doctor, a friend of mine. He owns a facility in San Diego. You’re going to check in tomorrow for thirty days.”

“I can’t.”

“You can and you will. I’m driving you there. Get into the shower and clean up.” He says it so matter-of-factly that I feel like I have no say in my life. He takes one look at me and sighs before leaving me alone on the toilet. The irony isn’t lost on me how others have died sitting on their throne.

As soon as the door is shut, I find a little strength and haul my ass into the shower. I want to burn the pants I’m taking off. Stained with my own blood, they mock my carelessness. I pull the toilet paper out of my nostril and pray that the bleeding has stopped; if it hasn’t, at least being in the shower is better than anything else. I gently run my hand under my nose and pull my hand back to see that it’s clear. A sigh of relief washes over me, but that does nothing to calm the storm brewing inside. I fucked up, and now I’m going to pay the price.

When I get out of the shower, my soiled pants are gone and there’s a fresh set waiting for me on the counter. I don’t know who did this for me, but I’m grateful. I dry off as fast as I can so I can find out what my fate is.

I step out into my bedroom to find my dad and Rebel deep in conversation. When she sees me, her expression is unreadable. I have no doubt she’s disgusted by me and probably ready to eliminate me from the group. It’s not like she needs me for anything.

“I’m giving you all another month off,” she says at last. “What you do in that month is up to you, but I suggest you get help, because I won’t have you fucking up Virtuous Paradox.”

I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop and wondering what my father said to her. I could ask him, but he’ll tell me it’s business, which means it’s none of mine.

“Everything is packed,” my dad tells me.

“What if I hate it?”

“Then you can leave. But Bodhi, if you leave, I will cut you off and you will no longer be welcome in my home.”

His words stab me in the heart and rip my guts out. I know he means every single one of them too.

Chapter 2

Bodhi

“Where are we?”

The last thing I remember is rummaging through my dresser looking for cocaine while my dad dealt with an out-of-control Aspen. He was kicking her out of my apartment, and she was fighting him every step of the way. I don’t blame her, or him, really; all I wanted was for the noise to fucking stop. I searched my drawers, frantically looking for a fix, and that’s when it truly hit me—I was an addict, and either I was going to get high to cope with Aspen’s screaming or I was going to get help.

It was my dad yelling at me that caught my attention, but it was the look in Aspen’s eyes—the one that was encouraging me to get high—that snapped me out of my trance. I closed the dresser drawer and told Aspen to get her shit out of my apartment. More screaming ensued, but we left her there to deal with my father’s security team.

When we pulled into my parents’ driveway I hesitated. The last person I wanted to see was my mother. She’d never understand.

“She’s out of town” was all Dad said.

I tried to sleep in the bed that he shares with my mother, but sleep evaded me. He sat there and watched me detox, holding the puke bucket for me and helping me change my soiled clothes. All things a father should never have to do for his adult son.

“Almost there,” my dad tells me now as I work the kink out of my neck. I must’ve fallen asleep against the window. This is the longest I’ve slept in a month, and coming down from my high is really starting to affect me. There’s an ache inside me that I can’t explain. It itches. I can’t reach the itch through my skin, even though I’m trying. My nails dig into my flesh, drawing blood. The pain is a relief and takes my attention away from whatever is growing inside me. It gets my mind off the drugs my body is craving, but only temporarily.

“Stop that.” My dad slaps my hand away, but I go back to picking my at skin, unable to stop. He doesn’t get it. If I don’t get something into my system, I’m going to start freaking out.

“We’re pulling into the ranch now,” he says as my legs start to bounce up and down. The shakes are back. I thought I had kicked those last night; apparently my body is a liar and wants me to go through that again.

“Dad, I don’t know if I can do this,” I grit out, bent over at the waist as I try not to hurl all over the floorboard of his Benz.

The car comes to a halt and his hand rests reassuringly on my leg, stilling it for the time being. “That’s the drugs talking. It’s going to take you some time to get over the urges, but that’s what Bruce is here for. He’ll help.”

I’m beyond help. Thirty days isn’t going to be enough, but that’s the maximum time I have before the media starts asking questions. Brayden and Carson will be seen out in public, and we’re rarely apart. It’s part of the deal with Rebel: always be seen together. For a month they’re going to have to figure shit out without me and keep my name clean and out of the press.

My car door opens and hands are there to help me out. I’m an able-bodied man, but my ass is set down in a wheelchair because my body is withering from the pain. I couldn’t walk right now, even if I tried.

“Roger, sorry we meet again under these circumstances.” The voice is that of Dr. Gordon. My eyes are closed, my teeth are biting into my lips, and my stomach is rolling, but I’d know that voice anywhere. Even after one meeting, it’s burned into my subconscious.

“I appreciate your help yesterday and for taking Bodhi on such short notice.”

“It’s why we’re here. Let me tell you a bit about Serenity Springs, Bodhi. Here at the ranch we try to make everyone feel like they’re at home, all while providing supervision. The grounds are well over seven hundred acres, featuring pristine valleys, natural ponds, wildlife, and hiking trails that we use for therapeutic purposes. Most of the staff live here to make sure the patients are well taken care of if a need arises.”

Dr. Gordon continues speaking, but my eyes are focused on the woman walking toward us. Fuck my life for being off my game and unable to make eye contact with her.

“Let me introduce you to my daughter, Kimberly. Kim works one-on-one with patients. She makes sure they eat, shower, get to therapy, and have someone to talk to. Kimberly is going to be with you, Bodhi, for the duration of your stay. She’s going to be your friend, someone you can trust. We found that patients who are here for only thirty days do better when they have someone to talk to who isn’t necessarily a clinician.”

I try to look up, but my neck hurts too badly to move. I can’t even imagine what she’s thinking right now. Probably Look at Bodhi McKnight—he’s a fucking loser. I wave, but that’s all I can muster. If I were high, things would be different. I’d cock my head, look her up and down, and tell her with my eyes exactly what I want from her. But I’m not high. I’m fucking dying from the pain, everything hurts, and I’m as useless as newborn. In my book, I’m fucking pathetic. And I did this to myself.

“Kimberly, why don’t you take Bodhi inside and get him settled. Roger and I are going to chat a bit about his care.”

“Sure thing, Daddy.”

Daddy? She calls him Daddy? This time I fight the pain and look at the woman coming toward me. My tongue swells as the prettiest woman I have ever laid my baby blues on saunters toward me wearing a pair of those stupid Daisy Duke shorts and Chuck Taylor sneakers. I look down at my ratty Chucks and wish I was wearing something else.

“I’m Kim,” she says in a voice that makes my insides twist even more than they already are. She doesn’t offer to shake my hand, or let me kiss the back of hers. Instead she tosses my bag into my lap and pushes my old-man wheelchair toward the brick building. The closer the door looms, the more I fear what is on the other side of it.

“Stop,” I say, trying to get my feet to the ground to halt the momentum of the wheelchair.

“What’s the problem?”

“I need my dad.” The words tumble out of my mouth, shaky and embarrassing. What grown-ass man calls for his daddy? Me, apparently.

She turns me around so I can see him standing there in the parking lot with Dr. Gordon. “Dad,” I call out weakly, my voice nothing like it should be. God, I feel pitiful.

He waves and tells me he’ll see me later, which, oddly enough, gives me a sense of calm. Before she can turn me back around, I slap at my legs and my arms, batting at the bugs around my head.

“What’s wrong?” she asks.

“The bugs. They’re buzzing everywhere.”

“There are no bugs, Bodhi,” she says, pushing me faster toward the door. “You’re hallucinating.”

“I’m what?”

“It’s part of the detox,” she says, maneuvering me into the building. “You’re seeing and even sensing things that aren’t there. Addiction is hard to combat, and your body enjoys the feeling too much to let it go, so it creates this realm to make you think something is wrong. Your body wants the drugs, and you want to make the hallucinations go away. Your body wins when you feed it. You lose because now your addiction is worse.”

“I don’t think I needed to know all of that.”

“Right.” She continues to push me down the hall, saying hi to the people passing by. “Here at Serenity Springs everything is laid back and you move at your own pace. Chores are assigned daily, and as long as things get done by the end of the day, my dad or Dr. Rosenberg won’t say much. This is a stress-free environment, and the staff is here to help you overcome whatever it is that brought you here.”

“Coke,” I blurt out.

“Okay, so you’re addicted to coke. We can help you with that.” She continues pushing me down the hall, not bothered by the fact that I have a problem. Why should she be? Celebrity addiction problems are probably a dime a dozen.

We stop at a window that opens up to an office. A man comes over to greet her, and she hands him my bag over the counter.

“Everything gets checked before we put it in your room. Any mail you receive will also come through here to make sure your friends aren’t trying to hurt your recovery.”

I don’t say anything. The only person who would sneak me some contraband would be Aspen, and because my dad took my cellphone from me, I can’t even tell her where I am.

“You should know that there are no felons here or anyone with a criminal record. Everyone is here of their own accord and is free to leave when they want. You can also stay past thirty days if you’re not ready to leave.”

“Do people stay?”

She nods without turning around. “Yes, a few stay longer, and some return when their demons come back to haunt them. We have an open-door policy here.” We go down another hallway, and then Kim opens a door, flipping on the light switch and pushing me into the room. I look around the stark room with its four white walls and a bed with a nightstand. Nothing else.

Kimberly steps in front of me and sits on my bed, leaving me nothing to look at except her. She brightens this room like a piece of commissioned art, and I’m struck by how beautiful and flawless she is. Her eyes are just as blue as mine, if not brighter, and when she talks, her face lights up as if every word she’s saying is the happiest one she’s ever heard.

“This will be your room. You have a session with Dr. Rosenberg at five, dinner at six, and lights-out at ten.”

I wonder what I’ll do after my session and before bed. It’s the downtime that will get me in trouble.

“I’ll come get you and take you over to dinner tonight,” she continues. “Before your session with Dr. Rosenberg, we’ll take a quick tour and go over the rules.”

“Right, the rules.”

Kimberly places her hand on my arm, and it burns where she’s touching me. It takes me a moment to register the feeling as something good. “Bodhi, we’re here to help. If you’re bored and need someone to talk to, there is someone always available.”

“Even you?” I venture.

“Even me. I’ll let you rest now. Dr. Rosenberg will come here to your room for the initial meeting. Do you need help out of the wheelchair?”

Any manhood I have left is suddenly gone when she asks about the chair. I want to crawl inside myself and die. I shake my head, telling her no. She stands, and as she brushes by me, her hip bumps into my chair.

“Wait, Kim.” I reach out and grab her hand, keeping her in my room a bit longer. “What about my dad?”

“I’m sure he’ll be in to say goodbye. My dad will show him where you are.” With that she leaves, closing my door behind her. I’m tempted to twist the knob and see if the door opens again, but I know deep down my dad wouldn’t send me to a place that locks me in my room. Would he?

Chapter 3

Kimberly

I shut his door and take a deep breath. One of our orderlies walks by and notices my hand on Bodhi’s doorknob, so I quickly drop the hand to my side and rush down the hall to my office, where I can freak out in peace.

Behind my closed door, I let out a slew of swears. I’m sure any of the clinicians in the office next to me can hear me, but I don’t care. My stress and anxiety are at an all-time high, and I curse myself again for not saying no to my dad when he asked me to be Bodhi’s one-on-one.

I sit at my desk and pick up my phone, dialing my best friend’s number. It rings twice before she answers. “ ’Sup, buttercup?”

“Daph, I hate my job.”

“No you don’t. You’re freaking Florence Nightingale in shining armor.”

Daphne and I have been friends since grade school. We grew up next to each other and did everything together. She’s more like a sister than a friend, and we both have the word “Friendster” tattooed on our shoulders.

“Today I hate it.”

“Why, did your dad hire a hot new orderly who’s off-limits?”

“Worse. I have a new patient.”

“A hottie?” Everything with Daphne has to do with looks. She’ll date the douchiest men as long as they’ve got a smoking body. Her last boyfriend couldn’t string a sentence together, but he was easy on the eyes. I didn’t mind hanging out with him as long as he didn’t speak.

“Yep,” I say, sighing. “But a total douche, and famous at that.” Though I can drop hints, I can’t tell her who is here. I’m not about to break the patient confidentiality that’s in place. Besides, my father had all the staff members, including me, sign nondisclosure agreements specific to Bodhi. But if she guesses who it is, I know she won’t tell anyone because our friendship means too much to her.

“Oh, a celeb. I love a good scandal.”

“Yeah. I’m willing to bet that once word is out he’s here, it’ll be all over the tabloids. Good thing we have state-of-the-art security measures in place.”

“Wow, he must be some superstar.”

“He is,” I mumble into the receiver. “And I hate him.”

“What do you mean?”

I shift in my chair, cringing when it creaks. “I hate everything that he stands for or is. Spoiled, rich, egocentric, and doesn’t give a shit about anyone, including himself. I mean, this guy has the world at his feet and he’s pissing it all away.”

“Most druggies do that, Kimmy. You know this.”

“I know. I just want one to actually come in here for exhaustion and not be addicted to painkillers or crack.”

“So let me ask you this: do you truly hate him, or do you just hate what he’s become?”

Her question gives me pause. She’s right. My dislike toward him is because of what he’s become, not who he is underneath. Hell, on the outside he’s a fine-looking man who makes me a bit crazy with lust.

Daphne changes the subject, and I find that I’m relieved she’s not pressing me for more details. She asks me to go to the lake this weekend, and I tentatively agree. It’ll depend on Bodhi and how he’s acclimating to being here at Serenity Springs. Who knows, by this weekend he could check himself out, although if he did that, he’d be in the morgue by sundown. From what I could see, his withdrawals are heavy, and when people are like that they get desperate.

After we hang up, I type Bodhi’s name into a search engine to see what the media is saying about him. Aside from pictures from Virtuous Paradox’s last tour date, which was over a month ago, nothing is popping up. That means either his father or his manager is paying a hefty price to keep his name clean or he’s been holed up in a drug house. Over the years I’ve learned to think the worst about people, and unfortunately drug house fits Bodhi right now.

When Virtuous Paradox first came on the scene, I was like any other obsessed fan. Daphne and I waited in the pouring rain for hours to see them perform five songs. At the time I told myself it was worth it, but as the year went on I saw subtle changes in the group. They became so big so fast that you could literally see their egos grow to match their stage presence. I must’ve been the only one to feel this way, though, because when they released their newest album their popularity soared.

I hate Virtuous Paradox. Strong statement, I know, but I do. I hate what they stand for and how they act, even though it has no bearing on me whatsoever. I think I wanted to be a fangirl but got lost in the shuffle.

And now their resident hottie is holed up in rehab with a coke addiction. His detox is going to be brutal, and I’m not sure thirty days is going to be enough for him. The scabs on his arms and the way his legs were bouncing tell me he’s having trouble coping with not being high.

Thirty days is going to be too much for me. There was a time when I thought Bodhi McKnight was gorgeous, with those killer blue eyes and that devilish smile. I used to do things to myself while looking at his picture, but not anymore. And now when I look at him I see a guy who took his stardom and snorted it up his nose because he could. He didn’t care that he was hurting other people, or what his fans might think. Like it or not, he is a role model of sorts for young kids. But he cared only about how he felt when he was getting high and when his next fix was going to come.

Looking at Bodhi now, it’s easy to see that he’s not the man we admire from afar or see onstage. He’s lost, and unfortunately it’s part of my job to help him find himself again, whether I want to or not.

With a knock on my office door Dr. Rosenberg steps in, taking the seat in front of my desk. She’s a small woman with jet-black hair and always wears red nail polish. I asked her once why, and she said because it’s easier for the patients to focus on the same color. She, along with my father, are the only two doctors on staff.

“You’ve met Mr. McKnight?”

“I have. I’ve left him in his room. He should be waiting for you.” I unobtrusively shut my monitor off so she can’t see that I’ve been looking him up on the computer. I don’t think it would be an ethics violation, but I don’t need a lecture from my father.

“How was he when you left him?”

“Fine, I guess. I mean, he’s going through the beginning stages of detox, so he’s agitated and picking at his skin.”

She flips open his chart and makes a few notes. “Says here he experienced flulike symptoms last night. Did he mention anything?”

I shake my head. I try not to pry and ask only questions that pertain to what’s currently going on.

“Your father wants him treated with kid gloves,” she says, closing his file. I nod, remembering what my dad said earlier about being delicate.

“My dad and his father know each other. I’m not sure how, but they do. I guess that’s probably why.”

Dr. Rosenberg’s expression is unreadable as she takes in what I just said. She gets up and leaves without any further conversation regarding Bodhi. Once my door is closed, I turn my monitor back on and study pictures of the old Bodhi with his perfectly styled dark hair and electric blue eyes. He has the charisma to sweep women off their feet, and fortunately for all of his female fans, he hasn’t met anyone who’s made him take a second look yet.

Not that the thought of getting a second glance from Bodhi McKnight is on my to-do list. Neither is being tangled up with him in sheets, like the current picture I’m looking at from a photo shoot. But that doesn’t mean I don’t fantasize about having him on top of me.

I doubt he’ll find his match in rehab, but that is something I’ll have to watch for when he’s out with the general population. The last thing he needs is a romantic entanglement while he’s trying to recover from his addiction, and the last thing I need to do is give him one.

Chapter 4

Bodhi

It’s only a few minutes after Kimberly walks out that my clothes arrive. The guy who drops them off seems nice, but the second he’s out of my room I’m tearing into my things to see if all of my belongings are still there. My father is always cautioning me that people want to steal our clothes and sell them online. I was allowed to bring only clothes, and right now I’m throwing each piece I have with me over my shoulder and mentally counting.

When I’m done, I look around my room. Its looks like a five-year-old lives here, with clothes all over the floor, hanging off my bed, and haphazardly dangling from the chair. There’s something missing, I know it. That man, the one who searched my bags—he stole it; I just don’t know what it is.

So I start over. I pick up each piece of clothing, fold it, and put it back in my bag, zipping the case closed, only to unzip it again and repeat the same process of throwing my clothes all over the room.

My door opens as a shirt goes flying. It’s too late and my red polo has landed on someone’s face. A small hand appears and pulls the garment away.

“You must be Bodhi,” she says, folding my shirt and handing it back to me.

“Yes,” I say, slightly out of breath and agitated.

“Do you always treat your clothes like this?”

“Something is missing. That man stole my clothes.” I look around the room, trying to figure out what exactly is gone.

The woman steps in. She’s dressed in a white coat that stops about mid-calf, and I’d say she’s not more than five feet tall.

“I’m Dr. Rosenberg.”

“I’m not sick,” I tell her, even though I don’t believe it myself.

“No, you’re missing some clothes, right?”

“Yes! Do you know where they went? He stole them, didn’t he? I should report him. Get him fired. My dad, he knows the owner.”

The doctor picks up the shirts that I threw onto the chair and sits down, holding them in her lap. “I have worked here for a long time and can tell you that no one has ever been accused of stealing. The man, Terry, will take very good care of your clothes, but he will not steal them.”

“But he did,” I challenge.

“One of the side effects of prolonged cocaine use is paranoia. Right now you’re experiencing an episode. Fortunately for you, you’re in a place where you can’t harm yourself or others.”

“I am not paranoid.”

“Do you always accuse people of stealing your clothes? Or what about throwing your clothes around?”

I stare at her for a long moment, waiting to see if her gaze will waver. She stares back, challenging me.

“Why are you here, Bodhi?”

Sitting down on the bed, I lean forward. “I had to come. My life…it’s complicated, and people like to tell me what to do, my dad being one of them. I also like to party, and people around me think my partying is a bit out of control.” I shrug, as if being here isn’t as big a deal as people are making it.

“How long have you been using?”

“Oh, I don’t know. It’s not like I kept a diary every time I snorted.”

Dr. Rosenberg stands, placing the clothes she was holding back on the chair. “We are going to meet later and we’ll talk more. I’ll give you something to help combat what you’re feeling. You’re going to continue to experience flulike symptoms for the next few days, but we can manage those with some pain medication. I usually recommend people stay here for sixty days when we’re working with an addiction. I know you’re here for thirty days, so we’ll work hard to make sure you leave here healthy.”

“Okay.” I don’t know what else to say. I mean, I’m here, in some type of rehab facility, because I fucked up. I had everything I needed handed to me on a silver platter, and instead of running with it, I took it all for granted. Dr. Rosenberg nods and exits, leaving me with my mess. And what a mess it is—and not just the one on the floor.

Chills run through my body, causing me to shake. I remember when I was a little kid my mom, who was born in Romania, once told me that an unexpected shiver was a lost loved one reaching out to you. I wish I could believe her now and think that my grandfather is holding my hand, but the truth is, he’d kick my ass if he knew about this. I reach for my sweatshirt and slip it on over my head. The thicker fabric doesn’t do much to curb the chill, but it’s something. At least I now know this is part of the withdrawal symptoms that I’m going to experience. I’m not cocky enough to think this is going to be a cakewalk. I know some days will be better than others and it’s all a matter of how I deal with it. The asshole in me wants to say fuck it and walk out the door, but the son in me who’s always trying to please my parents wants to stay and see this through.

“Whoa, did we have a hurricane and I miss it?” I look up sharply and find Kimberly standing in my doorway, looking at the mess I created. Embarrassment washes over me, and I can only imagine how red my cheeks are right now. I bend down and gather up as many of my clothes as I can, not wanting her to see my underwear. I don’t know what it is, but there’s something about her that makes me feel safe and welcome. She’s beautiful, but not my type, and yet I’m worrying about her seeing my room this way.

“I, uh…can’t find something,” I mumble incoherently, afraid to make eye contact with her.

“Yeah, I’m always losing things. My dad says I’d lose my head if it weren’t attached.” Kimberly does some awkward movement coupled with an even stranger face, and it makes me laugh. It’s a genuine laugh, one that isn’t forced or being required because of a social situation. And she doesn’t seem embarrassed that she’s acting like a dork.

“It would be bad, losing your head.”

Her face lights up, seemingly happy that I got her joke. “Yes, losing my head would be bad, but I still have it, so I think we’re okay.” She knocks on the side of her head, laughing again. I chuckle, but it doesn’t last long, since my mind is on the ache I’m feeling, along with the chills.

“Anyway, I’m here to walk you to dinner.”

“Um…okay,” I say, looking around my room and finally chancing a glance at her. She’s watching me, probably wondering if I’m going to break down at any moment. The chances are yes, but I’m trying to hold it together. I scramble to pick up the rest of my clothes and at least put them on the bed. They may be a bit disorderly, but so is my life. From this point forward I’ll be classified as an addict, and unless I learn how to deal with temptation, I’ll be struggling to survive in everyday life.

One day—that’s all it took for me to get addicted to cocaine. How fucked up is that? I was tired. So fucking tired of rehearsals, choreography classes, and sleeping on a fucking bus. I just wanted something to take the edge off, and Aspen was there and gave it to me.

Kim motions for me to follow her, and I find it easy to do so. As soon as I step out of my room, she points at the wheelchair. I shake my head, choosing to amble behind her. I don’t want to be caught dead in that thing if I can help it. Earlier I was letting a weakness control me, hoping my father would take pity on me and bring me back home. I’m stuck here until I walk out the front door.

“This is the common room,” she says when we enter a massive space. There’s a pool table, ping-pong table, a large-screen television, and an array of couches and chairs. “At Serenity Springs we believe that your path to recovery shouldn’t be hindered by too much structure. Sure, you’ll have a list of things that you have to do daily, but in between those times you can explore the grounds, come into the common room to play a game, go to the library to read or write home. You will not have access to your cellphone or computer, and any phone calls have to be placed with a staff member present. Your father provided a list of people you’re allowed to call, as well as names for family day.”

Kimberly continues walking, saying hi to other patients here. They all seem happy to see her, and a few stop and gawk when they recognize me. I ignore them, but Kimberly reminds them that it’s dinnertime, and each of them moves, almost robotically, to follow us down the hall.

The dining room is as big as the common room, and it’s cafeteria style. She grabs a tray and motions for me to pick one up as well.

“The dining area is open from six in the morning until eight at night. You’re welcome to come in and eat in between meals, but breakfast, lunch, and dinner are mandatory. We encourage you to talk to the other patients, especially since you’ll be getting to know them in your group therapy sessions.”

“My dad said this isn’t like a typical rehab place.”

“It’s not,” she says, reaching for a salad plate. “Talking about your problems is a good thing. You’re not forced to participate, but you do have to go. You never know—there may be something you have to say one day, and we’ll be here to listen.”

Listen to what? How I’ve had everything handed to me on a silver platter, and because I could, I fucked it all up? That I’m in fucking rehab because I’m a selfish prick and thought I could quit at any time? How it’s damn pitiful that my father had to come bail my ass out of trouble? I know that’s what parents are supposed to be for, but not my dad. Mine wants to hand out movie scripts and tell people what to do, not clean up after his drug-addicted son.

The writing’s on the wall. Finish the program and get clean, or I lose everything. Seems simple enough. Except it’s not. I’d give anything to score some blow right now, anything to feel the rush of adrenaline move through my system. It’s a feeling I’m never going to forget, no matter how hard the people here try to make me feel otherwise.

After our plates are full, she leads me to an empty table. I’m grateful because the last thing I want to do is be social. I don’t mind talking to her, though.

“Do you eat dinner with all the patients?”

Kim puts her fork down and clasps her hands in front of her. “Well, I don’t see all the patients. I’m more like a patient advocate, and usually I work with only one or two patients at a time. For dinner I’ll usually eat with them the first few nights until they’re comfortable. I also show them around and help them get settled. All of this can be scary, especially if you’re coming down from a high or haven’t had a drink in the last hour or two. I’m here to be your friend, and my door is always open.”

I don’t say anything after that and focus on my food. I took a little bit of everything, unsure of what I wanted or whether I’d eat. I’m not hungry, but feel nauseated and cold. What I need to satisfy my cravings isn’t allowed. That need is what landed my ass in here to begin with.

“You’re not hungry?”

I shake my head and put my fork down. Nothing looks good. I think about trying to trick my brain into thinking it’s all laced with blow, but that probably isn’t a good idea.

“I feel like I have the flu,” I tell her honestly. There’s no point in hiding anything from her, since she can probably see right through my shit. What is it about her that makes me speak without thinking? I’ve never done that before. I’ve never told some random chick that I just met that I don’t feel well. I don’t give a shit if it’s her job to know or not. Being open about how I’m feeling has never been something I’m comfortable with, and yet here I am telling her.

Once Virtuous Paradox took off, my life changed. I was used to keeping my lips sealed about my family, always playing coy with the media, but being in the group sent me into a tailspin. Now someone was telling me what to do, what to wear, how to act, when I could eat, when I could sleep, and who I could date. It’s crazy how much fame truly costs a person and how much of yourself you lose. The label was running my fucking life. The only thing they didn’t tell me was when I could take a shit.

“When was the last time you took a hit?”

I immediately break eye contact with her and look at my surroundings. For some reason, hearing her ask me makes me feel ashamed.

“It’s okay if it was today, Bodhi.” Her hand rests on my arm, as if that’s supposed to give me the confidence I need to tell her.

“It was yesterday, before my dad staged an intervention with your father and my manager.”

“So the comedown started last night?”

I shake my head. “I got a massive nosebleed yesterday. My first one. I’ve had people tell me about them, but I never thought I’d get one. Sometime around three this morning I started puking. My dad…my father is one of the biggest movie directors in Hollywood, and he was holding my fucking puke bucket for me because I was too weak to walk to the bathroom.” I throw my napkin down and move my tray away. I’m pissed at myself for allowing my dad to do that. He doesn’t know that I heard him crying in the corner when he thought I was sleeping, but I did. I heard him whimper and choke back a fucking sob because his only son is destroying his life.

“Let’s take a walk,” she says, getting up from the table and carrying her tray over to a large window. I quickly follow her, not wanting her to leave me behind. Not that I think she would.

We walk to two huge glass doors and head outside, right into the setting sun. The warmth does help, but the shivers are still there. I know Dr. Rosenberg said she’d help, but I’m not sure I want to take anything to combat this. Maybe I need to suffer so I don’t forget what it’s like to go through withdrawal.

“Wow!” We walk to the edge of the yard and stop. The property dips down into a valley where there’s a pond, and the way the sun is focusing on it makes everything seem magical.

“Over seven hundred acres of natural beauty, and it’s all yours to explore.”

“Seriously?”

She nods and motions for me to follow her again. We walk along a path until we come to a horse stable and go inside. She says hi to a man who’s in there, but otherwise doesn’t introduce him to me.

“You can borrow a horse anytime you want, but usually not after the sun goes down. Horses spook easily, and there are snakes and coyotes out there.”

“So if I want to ride, I just come out here?”

“Yep. You write your name on the list, and whoever is working will help you get saddled up. Same thing with the pond—if you want to go swimming, you can.”

I stop and pet one of the horses, rubbing my hand over her mane. When I was kid, I had a horse at our country home, but the busier my parents became, the less we went. The house was sold and I never got a chance to say goodbye to the horse.

“We’re here to help, Bodhi. I know you’re struggling, but we’re going to help you figure things out so you can go back to living your life.”

I laugh and shake my head. “What life? I’m a puppet controlled by a master who is brilliant and scary at the same time. It’s not her fault I’m here, but she’s also to blame.”

“I’m not sure I follow.”

I look at her and wonder if she realizes who she’s dealing with. She hasn’t said anything—not that I’m expecting her to, what with her being a professional—–but even the people we passed earlier knew who Bodhi McKnight is. “Do you know who I am?”

There’s a glint in her eye that matches her smile. “Of course I do, but the thing is, I don’t care. Sure, some of the patients might, but I bet you know how to deal with it. To us, you’re Bodhi. You’re here to get better, not entertain us or be a source of gossip. We want you better so that when you’re back onstage, we can sit back and be thankful that you came to us for help and that we were able to help you overcome your demons. Most of all, we want you to relax. So if anyone is bothering you, you tell me and I’ll take care of it.” She places her hand on my bicep, and the burning I felt earlier is back, even through the thickness of my sweatshirt.

Chapter 5

Bodhi

After the tour, Kimberly drops me off with Dr. Rosenberg, who greets me with a smile. She tells me to look around and make myself comfortable. I’m getting the feeling that Serenity Springs is big on making sure everyone is relaxed, so that when they start trying to reprogram your brain and thoughts it’s easier.

Dr. Rosenberg’s office is unlike any other medical office I’ve ever been in, not that I’ve been in many. She has a large sliding glass door that gives her office access to the outside, and from what I’m gathering she sometimes holds sessions out there. I suppose being outside can be therapeutic, although I think some people might be inclined to run if given the opportunity.

“Where’s your couch?” I ask, noticing that her office lacks the standard couch for people to lie down on and divulge all their secrets. There are two big chairs and some large beanbags in the corner.

“Would you be more comfortable sitting on a couch and not a chair?”

“If I said yes, would you get a couch?” I say in a pretentious tone, wondering if she’s a patsy like all the other people I’ve encountered in my life.

“I would not, but I would ask why you feel you’re entitled to a couch when I have two perfectly good chairs and an assortment of beanbags that you can sit in.”

My mouth drops open in amazement, and she cocks her eyebrow, almost as if she’s challenging me. I can’t remember the last time someone called me out on my shit. Rebel has tried, but even with her I still win out. I imagine sometimes it’s easier to give in than to fight with me. But that doesn’t seem to be the case with Dr. Rosenberg. I think maybe I’ve met my match. With my tail between my legs, I take a seat in the chair nearest me.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

I don’t answer her. She should be happy knowing she’s already succeeding in calling me out on my bullshit. Instead I focus on the ladybug painting she has on her wall. It’s large and incredibly detailed, showing the smallest features of its body and legs. I never thought of a ladybug as being creepy, but staring at this now makes me think otherwise. Out of the corner of my eye I see one crawling toward me. It’s bigger than the average one you see on a flower; this one is on steroids and getting larger the closer it gets to me. I pick up my feet and place them on the chair so it can pass by without touching me.

“Please put your feet on the floor, Bodhi.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?” she asks.

I look at her incredulously and point to the ground.

“I don’t see anything there.” She’s calm. Is she mocking me?

“How can you not see the bug?” I say, my voice higher than normal. My eyes feel like they’re coming out of their sockets as I watch the bug lift its giant wings and more bugs come tumbling out. They’re scurrying fast, heading for me.

“Oh, God,” I scream as I jump from my seat to step on them. They land on me, crawling over my skin, into my ears and nose, and under my clothes. I try to bat them away, but they keep coming. They scuttle into my hair and start biting, attempting to burrow into my brain. I hit them, listening to the satisfying crunch as they die.

And now they’re gone, being replaced by a warming sensation coursing through my body. I look around and find unfamiliar faces staring at me. They’re blurry and mumbling incoherently. I try to reach for them but my arms are gone. The bugs must’ve eaten my arms.

I scream and try to sit up, but I’m being held down. With deep grunted breaths I try to break free, but can’t. Again I try, spraying saliva all over my face. Somewhere deep in the recesses of my brain I hear my name being called, but I can’t answer.

Another bout of warmth rushes through my body and everything goes limp. My eyes are heavy and my body is sagging into the floor. I try to focus on my surroundings and the faces hovering above me, but I don’t know them.

“Bodhi?”

That voice. I know that voice. I turn toward her and try to smile when our eyes meet. Her fingers run through my hair, removing the bugs I killed earlier. I hate that she has to remove those nasty things with her fingers, but I’m thankful because the bugs are trying to eat my brain.

Now I’m moving. There are voices around me, but none of them make any sense. And where is my dad? Where am I? The overhead lights hurt my eyes, so I close them and wish I were elsewhere, as long as the woman holding my hand by my side could be there too.

“Welcome back, Bodhi. You gave us a little scare.”

I know that voice too, but I can’t place it. I move my head in that direction and see a familiar white coat. The person inside it is playing with a bag of liquid, hanging it from a metal pole. Hazily I follow the tubes hanging out of the bag and barely see them disappear into my arm. My arm, which I can’t move. Hard realization sets in as I comprehend what’s going on. I try to pull free, needing to break away from their treatment. They’re trying to turn me into something I’m not.

“I’m not an addict,” I grunt out as my hands fist and I grit my teeth to try to pull away from their restraints. Pain radiates up my arm, and when I look down, the white sheet covering me is blood red.

The lady in the white coat touches my arm. I yell out when she stabs me, but almost instantly the pain is gone. She moves about, my eyes following her. She’s going to kill me and there isn’t anything I can do about it. This is part of natural selection. I’m a waste to the community and they think no one will miss me. They’re wrong. I have so much more life to live.

“We know,” Kim’s soft voice whispers into my ear.

“Why the fuck are you trying to kill me?” The panic is real, and my voice quavers.

“We’re trying to save you, Bodhi,” the doctor says. Now I remember who she is: Dr. Rosenberg. I don’t believe her, and look at Kim.

“I can’t fucking move,” I tell Kim, fear coursing through me.

“It’s going to be okay, Bodhi,” Kimberly says, offering a sweet smile. “We had to secure your arms and legs until the paranoia broke.”

I look at her with complete confusion, not having a clue as to what she’s talking about. Behind me I hear a constant beep, and I crank my head as far as I can to see where it’s coming from. The machine behind me is blinking with red numbers and lines.

“What’s wrong with me?” I twist and turn, trying to get a look at what’s going on around me, but my arms and legs are pinned down.

“Hey, Bodhi,” Kim says as I turn my head toward her. “Wow, has anyone ever told you that you have really pretty blue eyes?” Her question confuses me, but I respond in kind.

“You too,” I say, before adding, “We match.” I swallow hard and close my eyes at her soft touch along my forehead. I open my eyes and admit something to her that any man would rather die than utter: “Kimberly, I’m scared.”

She adjusts her position, moving closer to me. “I know, but Dr. Rosenberg is trying to help. While you were in her office, you had an episode. They’re common and sometimes they can be pretty scary where you check out of reality like you did today. Do you remember it?”

I nod. “There were ladybugs everywhere.”

“Ladybugs can be so pesky, can’t they?” She smiles, letting me know that what I was feeling is okay.

“Bodhi, I’m going to free your arms now, but you have to promise me that you’ll leave your IV in, okay?” Dr. Rosenberg says from behind me. I nod, unwilling to take my eyes off Kimberly. I can’t understand why she’s being so nice to me and don’t want to believe it’s because of who I am. She’s probably here because of some fangirl obsession and will be secretly blogging about my experience later. Thing is, I don’t care, because there’s something about her that makes me want her next to me for the next thirty days, regardless of whether she’s a fan or not.

As soon as my arms and legs are freed, I shift to my side and tuck my hand under my head to give myself a bit of comfort. Kimberly’s hair is pulled back into a ponytail and she has this look about her. I’m not sure what it is, but it seems to extend beyond her role as an employee dealing with a patient. Does she do this with everyone? Part of me hopes not. I’d like to think I’m special, that maybe she and I bonded or had a moment that I missed. The other part of me is being a realist: this is her job, she does this with everyone, and I shouldn’t feel special, because the next person who checks in will have her attention the same way.

I’ve been here for only a few hours and I’m already depressed about the thought of someone taking her time away from me. That shouldn’t be crossing my mind. My recovery should be at the forefront of my mind. But she’s different. She talks to me differently, like Brayden and Carson did when we met. They never gave a shit that my parents are famous, and it seems like Kimberly doesn’t care that I am. I don’t care that I just met her; deep in my gut I can feel that she’s genuine. That she fucking likes me for me.

“How long do I have to stay in here and be hooked up to the machine?”

Kimberly looks up, and I’m assuming it’s at Dr. Rosenberg. “You need to stay the night. Right now we’re making sure you’re hydrated, because more often than not you forget to take care of yourself when you’re using. You lose your appetite, which results in weight loss; you don’t care about your appearance, and personal hygiene becomes an issue. We’re going to help you. It’s a long process, one that you’ll have to practice after you leave here, but we’re going to make sure you have the necessary tools to live a healthy life.”

I notice that she never says “drugs,” “junkie,” or “addict” and that she avoids calling me a loser even though I know that I am. I shouldn’t have been so stupid, but I’m fucking weak and liked how I felt when I was high. I could do anything until the high went away. Once the high was gone I felt like shit, so I snorted more. Part of me blames Aspen. She quickly went from being my friend to being my dealer and started controlling my life. Thinking about her now, while Kimberly is sitting at my bedside, makes my stomach roll, but my desire to get high is stronger. I bet licking a line of coke off Kimberly’s tits would be fucking glorious and give me the biggest hard-on.

I shouldn’t think about Kim like that. She’s too fucking pure and wholesome for a fuckup like me. If I want a chance with her, I’m going to have to straighten my shit out. She sees losers like me walk in and out of her life every single day. I have no doubt I’m the same as the last piece of shit to walk through the front doors. Someone as nice and sweet as she is needs to be romanced, to be wined and fucking dined at the best restaurants, and to have her body worshipped at the end of the night. I can’t do that for her, not yet, but I’m going to fucking try.

Shaking my head to clear my thoughts, I ask, “What about my dad?”

“He came by, but we told him you were busy. Since you’re an adult, he doesn’t get to know anything about your treatment unless you want us to tell him. He did say he’d be back for family day next week.”

“But he came back to see me?” I ask, unsure if I’m hearing her correctly.

“Of course he did. Why wouldn’t he?”

I shrug, playing it off. Kim doesn’t need to know that my dad and I don’t always see eye to eye or have the best relationship. I have no doubt my dad is freaking the fuck out, asking where he and my mother went wrong while they were raising me. Being home would’ve been nice, but that’s not for me to say. Growing up, he gave me everything, minus a fucking set of parents that were around. I guess what matters is that he was there when I needed him and he didn’t pussyfoot around the situation. He could’ve easily turned a blind eye and told me to take care of my problems. I am an adult, after all.

“You should sleep,” she says. “Your body needs to heal, and sleep will help.”

“Yeah, you probably have other patients to tend to. I’m sorry….” My words trail off because I’m not sure what I’m sorry for. Deep down I don’t care about anyone but myself, so if I’m keeping her from others, oh well.

“There is nothing to be sorry for, Bodhi.”

“I’m keeping you from your responsibilities.”

Kimberly runs her hand through my bug-encrusted hair, and I shiver at the thought even though deep in my brain I know my hair is clean. “You’re my responsibility.”

My heart beats a little faster, and her eyes move to the machine and then back to mine. Fuck me if she doesn’t bite her lip and shy away from me. Kim fucking likes me, and she knows that I’m digging her too.

I continue to stare at her, earning more points toward the title of Creepy Junkie Dude, and while I expect her to look away, she doesn’t. Kimberly doesn’t leave either. She sits in a chair next to my bed and talks to me. But it’s never about her life; it’s about recovery and how the world is a better place if you have a fresh mind and outlook. It’s the spiritual shit that starts to lull me to sleep. But each time my eyes close, I pop them back open, afraid she’s going to leave.

When sleep finally takes over I dream about her and me together, outside this room. She and I are walking hand in hand along the beach, with the waves washing over our bare feet. The wind blows her pale blond hair softly, framing her face perfectly. We search for seashells and splash in the water, stopping to pose for selfies with blue sky behind us. It’s paradise, and I want to be there.

But when I go to kiss her, when I go to feel the softness of her lips pressed against mine, the bugs are back with a vengeance. They come pouring out of her mouth in rapid succession, taking over her body until she’s sprouting wings, extra arms and legs. And her eyes…her beautiful blue eyes are now jet-black, soulless and focused on me.

Chapter 6

Kimberly

I’ve seen patients having hallucinations and psychotic breaks before, but nothing like what I witnessed with Bodhi. When I saw the orderlies and Dr. Rosenberg rushing him down to our medical wing on a gurney, fear and panic surged through my body. Thoughts of losing him and never being able to see him outside Serenity Springs almost had me on my knees. Before I knew it, I was running after them and barging into the room where Bodhi was being hooked up to an IV while his arms and legs were being pinned down.

And now I sit next to him while he sleeps, studying his face. Even behind closed eyelids, his eyes wander and he lets out the tiniest of squeaks, making me wonder if he’s dreaming…and if he is, is he dreaming about me?

It’s stupid, I know, to hope that I’m a thought in his subconscious. He probably has dozens of women who kiss the ground that he walks on, and for me to think or even hope that I’m crossing his mind is ridiculous.

But here I sit, imagining that I am, wondering what he’s dreaming about, and counting the hours until his eyes flutter open and the sea-blue orbs look into mine. I’m a hopeless romantic, and for the first time I’m letting my feelings show during my job. I know it can get me into trouble, and I need to either separate myself from Bodhi or pretend that he isn’t affecting me.

To do that is going to be hard because I want to know him. Not the boy-band musician side, but the side that he hides from reality. What did he do in his downtime before the coke took over? Does he enjoy the beach or a park, or is he stay-at-home type of guy? Everything I know about him comes from interviews and articles that people have written. None of those tell the true story of what a person is like on the inside.

Bodhi is restless in his sleep, and I automatically run my fingers down the side of his face without hesitation. He turns toward my touch and a small smile appears before going away. It’s easy to see why women fawn over him, with his strong jawline and those blue eyes coupled with his dark stubble. I was never a fan of a man’s five o’clock shadow until I saw Bodhi when he first started with Virtuous Paradox. His pictures don’t do him justice now that I’ve seen him in the flesh. The shots of him in the media are all Photoshopped and don’t show you that he has a very noticeable scar above his eyebrow. A picture in a magazine doesn’t show that his lip quivers just before he smiles. I hope that the life he leads in front of a camera isn’t the life he wants in private.

With each movement I look for ways to comfort him. I play music from my iPod, run my hands up and down his arms, and even clean up the dried blood from earlier when he popped his IV. I try anything to comfort him, to help him help his body heal. His path to recovery is going to be a long one and littered with struggles once he leaves here. Thirty days is not a long enough time to kick a habit, especially for someone in the music business. The chance of relapse will be great unless he’s able to exorcise all the demons. Unfortunately for him, that may mean losing some of his friends.

But are they really his friends if they let him become like this? I say no, but I’ve never been in his situation, just on the other end of it. I know what it’s like to watch someone you love become addicted and you’re unable to help. That alone is what led me to take a job with my father: to try to help, to be someone’s friend while they’re struggling during recovery.

I lay my head down next to his arm and close my eyes. There are many firsts that are happening for me, and they all seem to be centered around Bodhi. I’ve had patients go through hallucinatory breaks, but I’ve never stayed with them, not like this. We have nurses for this type of care, as I’m not qualified to handle the medical aspects. My degree is in psychology. I try to help figure out how people tick.

The tender feeling of my hair being stroked wakes me. I open my eyes and try to focus on where I am. The beeping, the white sterile walls, and a body next to me have me jolting up in bed. I cover my face when I see Bodhi staring at me.

“Oh my God, I fell asleep,” I say behind my hands as my heart races with anxiety.

“I guess that’s probably against the rules?”

Against the rules—yes, of course. So much of what I’m doing and feeling is against the rules. I nod and breathe deeply to steady my heart. “I shouldn’t have done that. I mean, it’s okay to fall asleep, but not on your bed.”

“It’s not like you were in bed with me.” From his tone, I can’t tell if he’s serious or not. In an instant I imagine what it’d be like to lie next to him, to have his body pressed against mine. To know if the abs that are on display in the Virtuous Paradox calendar are real or computer-generated. I pinch myself to clear my mind of such thoughts and remind myself that he’s a patient and I need to keep it that way.

“I’m sorry for disturbing you.”

I go to stand, but he latches on to my wrist, halting my steps. “Don’t go,” he begs. I glance at the door and close my eyes. The torment I’m feeling is unrealistic. I’ve known this man for hours—not months, not even days, but hours—and I’m already willing to do as he says. No, I can’t. I can’t be weak despite what my body is telling me to do.

“I have to get some work done, Bodhi. I’ll check in with you in a little bit.” I break free and rush out of the room, letting the door close behind me. As soon as I hear the metal lock click into place, I take a deep breath. As a few of the orderlies walk by, I smile and square my shoulders. If I act like I’ve done nothing wrong, no one will suspect otherwise.

Rushing to my office, I go in and shut the door. I’m so stupid. I look at the clock and see it’s after 1:00 a.m. Daphne will be asleep, but I have to talk to her. I pull out my phone and call, only for it to go to voicemail. The thought of spilling my guts onto a voicemail is stupid. So I hang up and dial again.

“Are you in the drunk tank?” she asks, her voice groggy with sleep. I’m a shitty friend, but she knows I’d answer if she needed me too.

“I’m having impure thoughts about my patient.”

“Scandalous.”

“Be serious, D. I think there’s something wrong with me.”

Daphne yawns and I can hear her bed shift. “I think you need to get laid. Mr. Hottie with a problem walks in all casual-like, and your lady bits are on fire.”

“Daphne,” I whine, drawing her name out as I open the door to my apartment. When I started working for my dad, he asked me if I wanted to live on the grounds, like he does. He had my apartment constructed to attach to my office so that I don’t have to walk across the parking lot at night to staff housing. My place is nothing fabulous—one bedroom, one bathroom, with a kitchen and living room—but it’s home.

“Listen, sweetie, there isn’t anything wrong with you. It’s natural to feel attracted to a good-looking man.”

“But he’s a patient.”

“Your heart doesn’t know the difference; only your brain does. You can listen to your brain and keep a wall up, or you can listen to your heart and maybe let him in.”

“My dad would never allow that.”

Daphne sighs. “I didn’t think you had to abide by the same guidelines as everyone else. I mean, it’d be different if you were treating the patients, but you’re not. You’re being their friend.”

“That’s true, I’m not officially treating them. But it’s implied,” I tell her. Here, like in any other medical facility, fraternizing with the patients is against the rules.

“How long is he there for?”

“Thirty days,” I sigh as I lie on my couch.

“So you have twenty-nine left.”

I wish I had her optimism. When he leaves here, I won’t be anything more than someone he spent time with while in rehab. He won’t want to see me again because I’ll be nothing more than a reminder of the time his life was in a shambles.

I tell Daphne to go back to sleep and hang up. I’m not tired, even though my day has been emotional, and so instead of going to bed after I take a shower, I find myself back in Bodhi’s room. I walk in and tell myself that I’m checking his vitals. Over the years I’ve learned to read them, to know how my patients are doing. Bodhi is stable and the dimmed light above his head allows me to see that he’s sleeping peacefully. His face has calmed and his breathing has evened out. I can’t fight the urge to run my fingers through his dark locks. Even though his hair is on the shorter side, I can still feel the smoothness of the strands between my fingers.

“Hi,” he says in barely a whisper, startling me. I jump back, but soon I realize his eyes are still closed. He’s talking in his sleep.

“Sleep, Bodhi,” I tell him, enjoying the way his name rolls off my lips.

“I think I’m in love,” he says.

I stand back as my heart thumps loudly in my chest. I know he’s dreaming, but your dreams can reveal your heart’s desire.

“With who?” I know that what I’m doing is violating every policy known to the medical world. If he wanted to tell me this when he was conscious, I would listen and help him achieve his desire, but asking while he’s in a dreamlike state is immoral.

“With you,” he sighs.

“What’s her name?” I ask, my voice barely above a squeak.

“Kimberly.”

Chapter 7

Bodhi

“Good morning, everyone.” Dr. Rosenberg is always chipper. I haven’t seen her have a bad day yet, even when I’m being an epic shit. It’s been a week since I arrived and had the worst paranoid episode that I ever hope to experience. That alone is enough to make me stop snorting coke, except the urge is still there. It’s especially there at six in the morning when the bell sounds and we have to get up to start our day. Everything here works because of the mix of structure and freedom.

Everyone has chores, and with those chores comes the expectation that you do them well. If a task takes you all day, so be it, but it gets done before lights-out. You’re never doing the same chore back to back. One day you could be sweeping the offices, which has been my favorite so far because that’s when I get to spend all day with Kim. Or you could be cleaning the horse stalls, which is what I’m doing later today. The hard labor is supposed to keep your mind focused. Being in the office with Kim kept me focused, though. It kept me focused on her lips as she spoke on the phone and I imagined them wrapped around my dick. Of course, my mind never wandered to places obscene when she’d bend over and her ass would stick out, inviting me to step in behind her and rub my ever-growing hard-on against the swell of her ass. And I never once thought about what it’d be like to take her up against the wall in the supply closet or what it’d be like to hear her call out my name.

I never said I wasn’t a liar either.

For the most part she’s ignored me, but I watch her like a stalker because I can’t get enough of her. I have yet to pinpoint what it is about her that draws me to her. I keep trying, but the answer seems to be blocked. I find everything she does sexy, and I ask myself why her and not any of the other women I’ve been with. What is it about Kimberly Gordon that gets the blood flowing through my veins and has me always thinking about her?

It can’t be because I’m stuck in here. There are plenty of women who would be willing to grab a quick fuck in the bathroom if that’s what I was looking for, but it’s not. She’s got a grip that isn’t wavering, and for the life of me I can’t seem to let go either.

“Morning,” the other ten people in my group say, shaking me from my thoughts. In the week I’ve been here I have yet to meet anyone else. Sure, I talk to people when they say hi, but as far as names go, I haven’t introduced myself. I don’t want to. I’m here to get clean and return to my life. I’m not here to care about others or worry about how they’re doing once I leave Serenity Springs. My life on the outside is so different from theirs, and we don’t fit into each other’s worlds. I know I sound conceited, but it’s the way it is. My parents would flip if I brought home someone from here: “Hey, Mom and Dad, meet my friend Charlie from rehab.”

Yeah, something like that wouldn’t go over well. But how would they feel about Kim if I brought her home? What would my mom say if I introduced her to the one reason I’m finding to stay clean?

Today we’re meeting outside. The setup is nice, if a bit hippie-ish. There’s a small circle with large pillows that we sit on. Dr. Rosenberg is one with nature and likes to sit by campfires singing “Kumbaya.” I suppose there isn’t anything wrong with that, except I’ve never been camping.

And I truly hate being in group therapy. People stare. They gawk, point, and whisper. I want to stand up and ask them what the fuck their problem is, but that would mean I care and I don’t, or at least I’m not supposed to. They know who I am and they’re all realizing I’m human just like they are. Humans fuck up, even famous ones. Some worse than others.

“Today we’re going to talk about self-worth and what that means to you,” Dr. Rosenberg says, earning a few grumbles. It’s hard to have any self-worth when you’re in rehab for drug use. I mean, you aren’t thinking about yourself or what others think of you when you shoot up or snort the lines; all you think about is the feeling you experience after the act is done. In hindsight, the feeling is brief, and given how much pain it causes, is it really worth it? Unfortunately, the answer for me is still yes. I wasn’t hurting anyone but myself. My friends didn’t suffer; in fact, they benefited. I never let them down. I was never late. I performed, and probably better than I can when I’m sober. If I can do all that while high, why am I here? And what happens when I’m out and I’m back to being the mediocre person I was before I started using? What happens when the exhaustion sets in and the cravings are there? Am I supposed to sit down and meditate, seeking an answer that is never going to come?

“Bodhi, do you wish to share today?”

I shake my head, much like I always do during the group sessions. I don’t know these people, and sharing my life and secrets with them isn’t why I’m here. Who’s to say that whatever I say in here won’t make the tabloids when they get out? No one. I didn’t sign a confidentiality agreement when I got here, which probably means that they didn’t sign one either, so there is nothing keeping them from selling my story to the press. No thanks—I’ll keep my mouth shut.

The others share, though, and I’m supposed to find it therapeutic. I’m supposed to find some relatable instance that we both have in common. I think there needs to be a rehab for celebrities only; then we can share in group sessions.

“It’s important when you leave here that you surround yourself with good people,” Dr. Rosenberg says. “You want to avoid the triggers that were in place.”

“What are the triggers?” I ask, speaking out for the first time. “How do we know what to look for?”

“Well, people are your first trigger,” she says.

“So I’m supposed to tell my friends that I can’t hang out with them anymore because they might be a trigger?”

“In some cases, yes. Were they there when you decided to make a life-changing decision?” She looks around at all of us when she asks that question.

Aspen was there with the coke when I complained. She was there every single time I needed it. Is she my trigger?

“Do you remember the first time you needed more? Your addiction started long before then; you just didn’t recognize it. Whether it was your first drink or the first time you got high, or even your second, what was the trigger or the moment that caused you to commit the act? If you can find it, that’s what you need to remove from your life.”

Was Aspen my trigger? Or was it the demands placed on me by Rebel? It’s easy to blame Aspen because she supplied me with what I needed to get high, but why was I so easy to control after that?

Maybe the first time wasn’t my trigger. I can’t even say it was the second, but the third time—definitely. My triggers are simple: time, demands, exhaustion, and the fact that what I needed to achieve success was readily available. So what do I eliminate? What do I give up in order to stay clean?

Dr. Rosenberg studies me for a reaction. I have to look away because I’m not answering any of her questions. She’ll ask me again in individual therapy later, and that’s fine.

The lady next to me, Susan, who I’ve learned is married with two children, was hooked on meth. She’s been here for two months now and has just announced that her husband is her trigger.

“I struggled with losing weight after our second child,” she tells us, already wiping away tears. “I tried everything. Every fad diet I could find, I did it. Sometimes they’d be successful, but the holidays would come around and I’d eat. I didn’t want to pass up eating a piece of birthday cake, or having pie after Thanksgiving dinner. Once I did that, I always said I’d start over on Monday. Well, Monday came and so did the following Monday, and I was still eating, gaining everything back that I had lost. My husband started calling me ‘fat,’ ‘plump,’ ‘a little juicy around the sides.’ When I’d tell him that he was hurting my feelings, he’d laugh it off and say he meant it in a loving manner, but there was no love behind those words. He stopped touching me and wouldn’t go out on our dates anymore. So one day I looked up how to lose weight quickly and there it was. At first I used the pills that contained methamphetamine and saw the pounds coming off. I wasn’t hungry and I had energy to clean my house and go to the gym. When the pills weren’t enough, I started smoking it. There was a guy who hung out at the gym who had a suitcase of whatever diet supplement you wanted, so I bought from him.

“And one day I didn’t wake up on time. My kids freaked out and called their dad, who came home from work. By then I was awake and World War Three was breaking out in my house because my children were late for school and he had to leave work because they were scared and the only thing I cared about was going to the gym so I could get high.”

She wipes away her tears and inhales. “He took the kids to school that day and I went to the gym. On my way home I was in a car accident. I was so high that I was driving down the wrong side of the road. I ended up spending ninety days in jail because my husband wouldn’t post my bond and my parents had sold their house so they didn’t have any assets. I’ve been here for sixty days, and when you add that up, I haven’t seen my kids in over five months.”

When she tells her story it makes mine look like a cakewalk. I didn’t lose anyone. My parents will still be there as long as I stay clean. She’s lost her family, all because her husband is a piece of shit and can’t accept her for who she is on the inside. He was too worried about the part that doesn’t matter—looks. My dad has always said my mother is the most beautiful woman he has ever met and says that her beauty runs deep inside her. He calls other women pretty, but my mom has always been beautiful.

Dr. Rosenberg lets us know that group therapy for today is over. It ends on a somber note, leaving me uneasy. I don’t think that Dr. Rosenberg was prepared for that story today, and neither was I. From what I can tell, the woman speaking is like me, normally quiet and reserved. I’ve seen her a couple of times while I’ve been out walking—she was just sitting in a chair looking at the pond. I can’t begin to imagine how alone she must feel.

—

Today I’m cleaning the horse stalls. I have never done hard labor a day in my life. Sweeping floors or vacuuming, yeah, I’ve done those, especially when I had to clean up a mess I didn’t want anyone to know about, but this is something entirely new.

I have a pitchfork in my hand and a wheelbarrow by my side. When they were handed to me, the guy laughed, knowing full well I don’t have a clue as to what I’m doing or what this tool even is. I do remember, from elementary school, what they’re called, though, so that’s a bonus point for me.

After a short lesson I’m staring at the task in front of me—cleaning up the manure. Clad in jeans, rubber boots, a T-shirt, and gloves, I walk into the stall, much to the amusement of the horse in the next stall, and start cleaning. It takes me only a few minutes to get the hang of how to use a pitchfork, and honestly I find it therapeutic. Maybe this is why we have chores, because they’re some odd form of therapy. Once I have a stall clean and restocked with new hay, I go over to the next, moving a horse if I have to.

The horses here are gentle and fairly easy to manage. Susan from group therapy this morning comes in. We make eye contact briefly before she takes a horse out of the stall. According to Kimberly there’s a network of trails throughout the property that we can hike, walk, and even ride on if we choose. I have yet to do anything except go to my therapy sessions and work. I find that time in my room, alone, is what I need right now. Besides, I can’t imagine going on a horseback ride by myself.

A few others come in and take the horses out as I clean, and when the final stall is done, I sign out on the chore list and head back to the main house for a shower. I smell horrible, and between the stench of shit and sweat, I can’t stand to be around myself.

“Where ya running off to?” Kimberly’s voice stops me dead in my tracks. She’s wearing shorts today that show off her tan legs. Once again her hair is pulled back into a ponytail, but she’s left a few pieces of hair out that frame her face. And her eyes are as blue as ever.

“I need a shower,” I tell her. “I worked the stalls today.” I’m sure she already knows this, but I feel the need to tell her anyway.

“Well, I thought maybe we could go for a ride. I could show you around some more of the property.”

“I need to shower,” I say again, stupidly. I chastise myself for saying something so dumb. I’d already told her I needed to shower, and since I reek, she probably didn’t need the reminder.

Kimberly laughs; it’s sweet and melodic. I want to hear it again, but I’m in no shape to make her laugh. There isn’t anything about me that’s funny.

“Hey, I have a better idea,” I blurt out, trying to hide my grin. I want her to think I’m serious with what I’m about to say.

“Oh yeah? What’s that?” Her tone is playful and gives me hope. And I need hope. Not to score with her, but to get through my days.

“You should join me in the shower.” I waggle my eyebrows at her and rub my hand over my abs, pushing up my shirt a little so she can see what’s underneath.

Kim shakes her head, but her smile tells me that she likes the idea. She covers her mouth to stifle a laugh, and I chuckle.

“Go shower and meet me in the barn. I’ll get the horses ready,” she says, waving me off. I stand there and watch as she heads up the hill toward the barn, hips swaying, and I wonder what they’d feel like under my hands. It’s just a fantasy, really. And when she turns around, I slowly pull off my shirt and show her exactly what she’s missing. With another shake of her head, she disappears from sight.

It’s funny to think she’s out of my league considering who I am, but she is. Women like her don’t have time for dumbasses like me, regardless of what our bank statements say. Besides, who the fuck hooks up with someone from rehab? Not someone like Kim. She could do so much better than someone like me.

I rush off to shower and change as quickly as I can, afraid she might change her mind if I take too long. Our showers are dormitory style, with a changing area adjacent to the shower. All our soap and shampoo is provided for us, and if you need to shave, you can request to use one of the electric razors they have on hand. Regular razors aren’t allowed because of the threat of suicide.

Once I’m showered and dressed, I find myself running back to the barn, hopeful that Kimberly is still there. When I spot her brushing one of the horses, I sigh in relief. I don’t know why I need to spend time with her, considering that every time I do I’m left with an ache in my groin, but I do. I need the torturous pain of blue balls to remind me about my fucked-up situation. If we were away from here, I’d be done chasing her. I don’t spend too much energy trying to get a chick, which is probably one of my many problems in life, but she’s different. She’s like my fucking reward for being a good boy, even when I want to be so fucking bad when I’m around her.

“Have you ridden before?” she asks as I approach her.

“I used to, when I was kid. My parents had a country house and we’d go there for holidays and vacations, but their careers soared, the house was sold, and vacations were spent on yachts and in ritzy hotels instead.”

“Sounds like a tough life.”

“It was,” I say, sounding ungrateful. She looks at me oddly, and I shrug. “When you’re a kid, you want friends. You want to run outside, play baseball, and chase girls. I always had nannies, and the cameras followed my mother everywhere, so being dirty was never an option.”

I refuse to look at her and see the pity etched on her face. She’s far too pretty to bestow pity on someone like me. I check the saddle on the horse I’m going to ride and walk him out of the barn. Once there, I mount him as if it’s second nature. It’s been years, too many to count, since I’ve been on a horse, and I remember only a few things.

Kimberly doesn’t say anything as she mounts her horse and brings him to a halt next to me. I have a feeling that she’s looking at me, but I’m staring straight ahead. I don’t want to talk about my childhood or hear about the things I missed because my parents were too busy. I may not have grown up normal, but I did things. I’ve traveled the world. I’ve met important people who have defined our world. I’ve done things that most people only dream about. So what if I missed things?

She takes the lead and I follow. We’re going slowly, which is perfect for me. The last thing I want to do is fall off the horse. Besides, the scenery needs to be admired. Through the trees I see fields of wildflowers. On the trails there are animal tracks that Kimberly is pointing out. She tells me about the land and how her father acquired it for his dream of helping others.

“Where’s your mom?” I ask, being nosy.

“She lives in the city. They divorced a few years after Serenity Springs opened. My dad is so dedicated to his work that she felt he abandoned her, so she filed for divorce.”

“That must’ve been hard on you.”

If she’s annoyed, she doesn’t say anything. “It was, but I dealt with it. I’d spend my weekdays with her while I was in school and my weekends here. Holidays were the worst, though, but we managed. Now that I work and live here, I see her on the weekends and she occasionally comes up to see me.”

“You live here too?” I don’t know why the thought of her living here surprises me. I guess I thought she had a normal life away from all of this.

She turns and looks at me over her shoulder, showing me that she’s without a doubt the most positive person I have ever met.

“I do, along with my dad and most of the staff. We have staff housing on the other side of the ranch. My dad provides housing for those who need it. Some of the employees that you’ve met are former patients as well. I’d say about half live on the grounds, some with families as well.”

“That’s pretty nice of your father.”

“He’s doing what he thinks is best.”

We come to another clearing, this one with a pond. She dismounts and takes her horse down to the pond to drink. I do the same, petting him while he hydrates.

“Are you feeling better?” she asks.

I shrug, not sure how I feel aside from being worthless and stupid. “It’s hard to say.”

“What about the craving? Is it gone?”

I’m afraid to look at her, fearful that she won’t like my answer. Hell, I hate my answer. I can honestly say that if there was a bump sitting out in front of me, I’d take it just so I could feel that high one more time. Instead of answering, I shake my head and look down at the ground.

“It’ll get better,” she says soothingly.

“How do you know?”

“Because you’ll find the one thing that replaces that high. It’s different for everyone. If we knew what it was, we’d bottle it and sell it, but we can’t. Each person has to dig deep in self-discovery and hold on to the one thing that gives them hope and gives them the rush they need to get through the day.”

“What if I think I found it? The one thing that will replace the high that I’m craving?” I step around my horse and come face-to-face with her. The sunlight kisses her, making her eyes sparkle. They’re as blue as mine, but different. What I see in hers gives me hope that I can be a better person.

“Then you need to do what you can to hold on to whatever it is that you found.”

I step a little closer, trying to quell my dirty thoughts. With the amount of privacy we have out here it’d be so easy to fuck in the grass or up against the tree. She’d be able to scream out my name as I make her come all over my dick and no one would be able to hear her. That right there would be my high. The exhilaration alone would be enough to sustain me.

“You sound like Dr. Rosenberg,” I say, trying to change the subject before I do something both of us will regret.

“Oh, I don’t think I’m that bad, Bodhi. I want you to succeed. Maybe it’s because you have such a promising future—I’ll get some small gratification from knowing that your success is well earned. You’re not going to fail as long as I’m your friend.”

“You want to sit in the crowd while I’m up onstage and know that you had a hand in my being there?” I step a bit closer to her, and her chest heaves. She can step back, but she doesn’t. Kimberly licks her lips and meets my gaze.

“I’m not much of a concertgoer.”

“So the idea of watching me onstage seduce the women who fantasize about me isn’t something you want to see? Or do you want something in private? Do you want your own show, Kimberly?”

She shakes her head slowly, breaking our connection. Gently I pull her chin toward me so I can see her eyes. Her cheeks flush from my simple touch, causing a stirring in my groin.

“Yes and no,” she whispers among the trees, horses, and other wildlife.

“Which is it, Kimberly? Do you want to see me onstage or would you like a private show?”

“It’s wrong.”

“What’s wrong?” I ask as my fingers move down her neck. The attraction two people feel toward each other is never wrong, unless one or both of them are married to other people.

“This…the touching. The way I feel. I know better.”

“Do you want me to stop touching?” My hand ghosts over her exposed skin from her neck to her shoulder and along her collarbone. Feather-light touches meant to entice.

“I’m not sure anymore.”

“Of what?”

“Of anything.” Her chest heaves as she says that.

My hand grazes her side, and as if that is her trigger, she launches herself into my arms. I stumble before righting us, careful not to drop her. Her tongue pushes into my mouth as her arms wrap around my neck and her fingers weave into my hair. Finally, after a week of watching her shake her fucking ass in my face, my hands are gripping it and pulling her to me. I open my eyes briefly to check my surroundings and find a tree a few steps away. That is where I take her, and we swap fluids.

With one hand holding onto the branch slightly above, I push her into the tree. She arches her back, grinding herself against me. I’m fucking hard and loving every minute of this little vixen’s attempt at getting off.

“Fuck, I want to touch you,” I say against the hollows of her neck. She nods, whimpering as I bite along her collarbone.

Letting go of the branch, my hand slides easily into her ridiculous excuse for shorts until I’m touching a flimsy piece of cloth covering her already wet pussy.

“I bet you taste fucking divine,” I tell her as my knuckle swipes along her core. She bucks, showing me what she wants. “Look at me, Kimberly. I want to see your face when my fingers push into your cunt.”

She does, and my cock screams, begging to be freed from the confines of my shorts. First one, than two fingers enter, and her eyes roll back. I pump my hand and try to maneuver so my thumb can go to work on her clit, but I’m unable to unless I want to move to one side, and I don’t because the pressure from her rubbing up and down my body is giving me the biggest high ever. I never realized sex could be a drug.

I speed up, watching her face morph into bliss. Her fingers dig into my skin and her mouth falls open, inviting me in. I slam my mouth down on hers, taking her moans deep into the recesses of my soul. It’s a fucking thrill, knowing I’m making her feel this way.

She bucks her hips and starts fucking my hand. I look down where my hand disappears into her shorts and feel my cock get even harder. Watching her get herself off is the single fucking sexiest thing I have ever witnessed.

“Look at you fuck my hand,” I say. “Don’t you wish it were my dick?”

“Yes. Oh God, yes,” she says, going faster. Her head pushes back against the tree as her back arches. The tightening of her pussy around my fingers is fucking amazing, and I can only imagine how my cock is going to feel when it’s finally surrounded by her walls. I give her a few more finger thrusts before she stops pulsing, her breathing labored and her eyes hooded with lust. I kiss her deeply as I pull my hand out, and I make her watch as I lick my fingers, sucking each and every one of them clean.

I set her down gently; her legs wobble, and I smile within, knowing that I did that to her. Her hand reaches for the button on my shorts, but I stop her before she can get it undone because all I can see is Aspen and the way she looked at me the night that everything changed. And as much as I want to watch Kim suck my dick, I don’t want her to think that was why I just got her off. Fuck, I hate sounding like a pussy.

“I want a turn,” she says, her eyes finding mine. Oh, how I want to watch my dick move in and out of her mouth, but I can’t. The last image I have of getting a blow job is with Aspen, and I shouldn’t be thinking about her right now. It’s not fair to Kim.

Instead I do something I never thought I’d do in front of another person, let alone someone who I enjoy spending time with. I step back, undo my pants, and reach into my boxers to pull my dick out. Her eyes widen and I swear to God she licks her fucking lips, but that’s not enough to make me change my mind. I stroke myself once, stop briefly to spread my pre-cum around as some lubrication, then continue to move my hand up and down my shaft without taking my eyes off Kimberly. Each motion brings me closer to the edge, closer to blowing my wad in front of this woman. I want to know what she’s thinking. Does she think I’m weird? Probably so, but it’s the heat of the moment and nothing can change what we’ve done out here, away from everyone else.

I grunt as my release builds, my hand going faster. A small whimper escapes as I jerk out into the open, away from her. I bend over and let my seed squirt to the ground, away from my clothing. I’m unable to look at her, fearful of what her reaction might be. Once I’m tucked away, I seek her out, but her expression is unreadable. She stops in front of me, careful to walk around the puddle of cum on the ground. She touches my arm gently, but the rest of her is standoffish. As I reach for her she steps away.

“We should go,” she says, heading toward her horse. I don’t know what happened, but I can’t imagine she’s pissed that I didn’t let her give me a blow job. Aren’t most women happy when they aren’t on their knees sucking dick?

With what little self-esteem I have left, I mount my horse and fall in line behind her on the trail. Even with her riding her horse, her ass still sways, mocking me.

Chapter 8

Kimberly

“Daphne?” I yell her name the second I walk into her apartment. She peeks around the corner from her kitchen with a big grin on her face. Daphne lives alone near downtown San Diego. Her apartment is a great escape for me, but I’m rarely here. All her walls are painted ice blue with white accents, very ocean-like, and there always seems to be a cool breeze even though I know it’s not possible considering where we live.

“How was he?”

I blanch at her question and instantly feel my face turning red. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say coyly.

“I can smell BS a mile away when it comes to you, Kimmy. You texted saying you were coming over, and I usually have to beg to get you off the compound. Yet here you are.”

For years Daphne has called Serenity Springs a “compound,” even going as far as to call it a “cult,” but we’re not. Everyone has the freedom to leave if they choose. Including me.

“What makes you think it has anything to do with a guy?” I ask, sitting down on her couch.

“Because I listen when my bestie has issues at two in the morning.”

“It was one,” I mutter, sighing deeply.

Daphne walks into her living room and hands me a cup of cocoa. It’s her fix-all. Her mother and grandmother used to do the same thing when we’d come home with broken hearts.

“Thanks.” I bring the steaming cup close to my face and inhale the chocolaty goodness that awaits me once it cools down. On the coffee table, she’s set a plate of ladyfingers.

“Is he really that gorgeous?”

I nod, reaching for a ladyfinger to dip into my drink.

“And he’s famous?”

This time instead of answering, I dip the ladyfinger into the hot chocolate and eat the softened morsel.

“Like how famous?”

“You know him,” I say, stuffing my face.

“Well, I’ve checked all the tabloids and no one is mysteriously missing or entering rehab, so I guess I’m flying blind.”

“I’m sorry. You know I’d tell you if I could.” I set my cocoa down and curl into her couch. Daphne does the same thing, letting her brown hair fall to the side.

“So was he good?”

I close my eyes, remembering everything that happened between Bodhi and me while we were out on our horseback ride.

“We didn’t sleep together. I’ve only known him for a week, and he’s an addict. Having sex with him would be foolish.”

“Well, you did something, so spill.”

I reach for my drink and wrap my hands around the ceramic mug, blowing into it to cool it down. I sip, letting the hot liquid warm me. It’s far from cold outside, but sometimes you need the old comforts from your childhood to make you feel better about yourself.

“I attacked him, Daph. It was horrible, except it wasn’t. I don’t know. He screams sex, like it oozes from him. We were talking, and then everything changed. There was a shift in him, and I felt like he was on the prowl. The next thing I know, I’m aching, my chest is heaving, and all I can think about is what it’d be like to screw him, so I jumped him, and he was…” I blush, recalling the words he said to me. “He’s magic with his words and his fingers.”

“Oh, do tell.” She pulls her legs up underneath her, eager for my story.

“I feel dirty talking about what happened, but Daphne, his fingers were bliss and the stuff he said to me, I thought I was going to come just from his voice alone.”

“Sweet hell, what did he say?” She leans closer to me.

I know I’m blushing, but there isn’t anything I can do about it. My body warms as I remember how his voice sounded. “He said, ‘I want to see your face when my fingers push into your…’ ” I can’t bring myself to repeat his word.

“Your what?” she squeals.

“Cee you next Tuesday,” I mutter with embarrassment, knowing she’ll get my slang.

“Holy fuck, Kim, that’s hot.”

“I know, but I feel so dirty,” I tell her, placing my mug back on the coffee table and mirroring her position on the couch.

“And did you?” she asks, leaning forward.

I cover my face and nod. “I did, and I thought it was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen or been a part of.”

“But…?” she asks.

I finally look at her. “After he got me off, he stood there in front of me, masturbating, so I could watch him.”

Daphne’s mouth drops open as her eyes go wide. My cheeks continue to burn.

“What did you do next?”

I uncurl myself and stand, pacing around her living room. “This is where I fucked up,” I told her. “I left. I was embarrassed because I had asked to return the favor and he told me no. Don’t get me wrong—watching him pleasure himself was the most erotic thing I have ever witnessed. But the rejection stung. And when the euphoric high wore off, I realized what I had done, and I couldn’t face him. He’s there to recover and I shouldn’t be using him like this.”

“Have you spoken to him about this?”

I shake my head.

“He shouldn’t worry about me, ya know? He needs to focus on his recovery and getting his life back.”

Daphne stands and pulls me into her arms. “Maybe you’re the part of his recovery that he needs.”

I stay with Daphne until the sun is down. I think about staying the night, but I know that there’s a mountain of shit that I have to tackle, and the sooner I do it, the better. If I listen to Daphne, I should go back to Serenity Springs and hump the shit out of Bodhi. Even I know I can’t do something like that, and what did happen between us can’t ever happen again. I can’t compromise his recovery for my personal pleasure.

The drive back to the ranch gives me time to think. As much as I want to test the waters with Bodhi, I can’t. I have never defied my father until I met Bodhi, and I’m not going to continue to do it. Whatever Bodhi and I are feeling, whether it’s for each other or because we’re both lonely, it stops now. It’s not fair to Bodhi to take on another person’s emotions while he’s recovering. And it’s selfish of me to demand that of him.

Chapter 9

Bodhi

Today is family day. I don’t know what to expect, but it’s not much. You’re allowed to call home at any time, with permission, but I have yet to take advantage of that. I watched Susan, the woman from my therapy group, call home once, and it wasn’t pretty. I happened to be cleaning Kim’s office when she came in and asked to use the phone. It was her daughter’s birthday, she said.

I tried not to eavesdrop, but I couldn’t help it. All she wanted to do was talk to her daughter on her birthday, and her husband wouldn’t let her. I could hear him on the other end of the line berating her and calling her names, and all of a sudden I’d had enough. I went over to her, placed one hand on her shoulder, and with the other took the phone and put it down on its cradle. Kim was there to take Susan into her arms and lead her away. No one should be treated like that. Susan’s husband was wrong for saying those things to her, especially since she’s trying to get help. It’s sure funny that he doesn’t take any responsibility for the role he played in her situation.

Later that day, Kimberly found me and said I did the right thing and that I’m a good friend to Susan. I wanted to tell her that I’m not Susan’s friend, but I didn’t, especially since my plan for today is to sit with Susan and pretend she’s a friend. I think she needs me more than I need her.

The sun is shining and it’s blazing hot. The pond looks tempting, but as I suspected, Susan is sitting on the bench, alone. Family day is going on in the main building and around the therapy area, and I’m staying far away from there. I haven’t called my parents since I arrived and I don’t plan to. I don’t have much to say to them right now.

I sit down next Susan, leaving enough space so as not to crowd her. A quick glance tells me that she’s been crying, and as much as I want to comfort her, I don’t. I sit and stare off into the same open space that she does, wondering what’s going through her mind. She’s been here longer than I have, and I can’t even imagine how she feels knowing that every two weeks her family has an opportunity to come visit her, yet they don’t. It has to be the shittiest feeling in the world.

Every now and again a name is called over the loudspeaker, and if that person is outside, Susan and I watch as they go running to greet their family. It’s like we’re living in some dystopian world and people are running off to be the chosen one.

Family day is an all-day event, concluding at dinnertime. That is how long Susan and I will sit out here, waiting for all the happiness to subside. If I were high, this wouldn’t be a big deal. I could be social and interrupt everyone’s time. Make a fool out of myself and draw some much-needed attention. But instead I’m sitting here with my not-friend because this is better than being social.

“Your family isn’t coming?” Susan is the first to speak. We’ve been sitting here for hours, doing nothing except sharing the same space.

“I don’t know. Probably not. My folks are busy, and the last thing they need to do is come visit their son in rehab.” Even as I say the words, they sting. I should be a priority to them. They should stop what they’re doing and come see me, come make sure I’m okay and not dying in here. Although with my dad knowing Bruce, I’m sure they’ve been in contact.

“I’ve seen your mother’s movies—your father’s as well. I used to love going to the movies. The popcorn was the best.” She stops talking, and I’m not sure if I’m supposed to thank her for seeing their movies or comment on the popcorn. I happen to agree with her about the popcorn. Even in our home screening room, the popcorn isn’t the same as when you get it at the theater.

“My family doesn’t care. I mean, my parents do, but they’re elderly and living in Florida. They don’t have the money to take a trip out here. My husband…well, I’m fairly certain he’s seeing someone else and she’s living in my house. I can’t talk to my babies, so they don’t even know how sorry I am.” She covers her mouth as sobs escape. Against my will, I place my arm around her, pull her into my side, and let her cry. I know how to treat a woman better than the way her husband is treating her. Susan gathers herself and sits up, wiping angrily at her face.

“You need to divorce him,” I blurt out. It’s not my place, but if he’s moving on, she’s not left with much of a choice.

“I can’t afford a lawyer. He made the money while I stayed home with the kids. The only reason he’s paying for Serenity Springs is because the judge ordered him to. When I leave here, he won’t be out there waiting for me. I won’t have a home to go to.”

A sudden rush of anger washes over me as I listen to her. This guy is a real piece of work and needs his fucking ass beaten. “I’ll be waiting for you,” I tell her before I realize what I’ve just said. But the words are out now and I can’t take them back. “You can live at my parents’—there’s a two-bedroom apartment that we use as a guest house. You’ll have everything you need. And I’m not kidding when I say you need to divorce him. He needs to be held accountable for his actions, so I’ll pay for your lawyer and we’ll nail his ass to the wall.”

“I can’t let you do that.”

“Why not?” I ask, leaning forward to look at my not-friend, who’s quickly becoming my unfake friend. “I can help. I’ve listened to you in therapy and can honestly say I hate your husband. I know you’ll need a job, and guess what—my dad owns a company, so that’s solved.”

“What will your parents say?”

I laugh because my father is, if anything, respectful to women, and once I tell my mother about Susan, she’ll take her under her wing.

“One thing you should know about my parents, they’re humanitarians and treat everyone equally. Our staff at home get luxury vacations and all these crazy things from my parents. There’s a reason you never see our names in the tabloids because of some tell-all. My parents treat everyone very well.” I leave out the part where they may not be the best parents. Regardless, they’re great people.

“It’s too much. I can’t take it,” she says.

“Take what?”

I turn at the sound of my father’s voice. The sight of him brings tears to my eyes, and I rush over to greet him, stopping short of giving him a hug. He gives me one instead, followed by my mother.

“I miss you so much,” she whispers into my ear, her tears wetting my cheek. I didn’t get to see her before my life spiraled out of control, and I can’t imagine how she took the news.

“I miss you too, Mom,” I say, holding her a bit longer. “Come here—I want you to meet someone.”

I take my mom’s hand and pull her over to the bench where Susan is sitting, wide-eyed. “Mom, this is Susan. She’s a fan.” As much as I want to sit with my mom, I think Susan needs her a bit more than I do right now.

Immediately my mom starts talking to her and tunes me out, just as I had hoped. I motion for my dad to follow me, and he does.

“How are you?” he asks, the concern evident in his voice.

“I’m okay,” I tell him. “The urge is still there, but they’re teaching me ways to cope with it.”

“That’s good. I’ve spoken to Bruce—he’s very impressed with you.”

I’m smiling on the inside, knowing that he’s called to check up on me. It warms me to know that he cares enough to do that. I fill him in on Susan, her situation, and, more important, her husband. Then I drop the bomb, telling him that I invited her to live in the apartment and said I’d get her a lawyer and a job working with my dad.

At first, by the way his face is scrunching up and how he’s running his hands through his hair, I think he’s going to tell me no. He places his hand on my shoulder. “You can’t save everyone here.”

I’m taken aback by his comment. I’ve never saved a soul in my life, so why would he think I’d want to save everyone? Hell, I can barely save myself from self-destruction.

“I’m not trying to, and I didn’t really mean to say anything, but it just came out. Dad, I overheard her husband on the phone—he was horrible. I feel bad for her because his ways led to her addiction, but he blames her.”

“And you say she has children?”

“Two of them. I know one is a girl because it’s her birthday, but I’m not sure about the other one. Plus she was a stay-at-home mom, so her job skills are lacking.”

He nods but otherwise doesn’t say anything. I can’t imagine he’ll tell me no, especially since I’ve already opened my mouth, but I could be wrong. Bringing home an addict isn’t always the best thing to do.

We go back to the bench, where my mom and Susan are in an animated conversation. This is the first time that I’ve seen Susan smile. I imagine before the drugs took over her body, she was probably very pretty. But the drastic weight loss and effects from the meth have taken their toll. She’s rail thin and hardly eats. I imagine she’s depressed too, which probably isn’t helping her situation.

My dad and I linger for a bit, not wanting to interrupt them. When Bruce comes along, my dad disappears with him, leaving me to fend for myself. I should be pissed that my mom is paying more attention to Susan than to me, but as I look at my mom and Susan talking, I know it’s a good thing—Susan can probably use it a little more than I can.

—

I dive into the pond, reveling in the tepid water. It’s warmer than I thought it would be, but still a reprieve from the smoldering heat. I stay under until my lungs burn with desire for air before rising to the surface. The giant gulp of air I need isn’t lost on me as I float on my back to relax. Out of the corner of my eye, the sunset is showcasing an array of colors. The rich reds, oranges, and hints of pink cast an eerie glow over the sky, making it seem magical. For whatever reason, the sky reminds me of Kimberly. Every time I see her I feel better. I feel like I’m not at rehab but at a retreat where I’m learning how to work. She doesn’t treat me like I’m a drug addict or in recovery.

As the sun starts to disappear, I know it’s time to head toward the dock. I haven’t broken a rule yet, aside from finger-banging Kimberly out in the woods, and tonight won’t be any different. I’m so grateful for all the help I’ve been given, and the last thing I want to do is piss off Bruce or Dr. Rosenberg.

I swim a few laps before heading toward the dock. There’s a shadowy silhouette on the dock, and I’m unable to make out who it could be. When I climb up, my question is answered. Kim is standing there with my towel in her hand. The smile grows across my face before I’m even out of the water.

“Thanks,” I say, taking it from her and drying off.

“I heard what you did today.”

I nod, not wanting to go into it. By the time it was all said and done, Susan and my mother had become fast friends, and my mom was none the wiser until my dad filled her in on their way home. I imagine my mom will be back here again to see Susan now that she knows what she’s going through.

“It was nice, Bodhi. You can take credit for doing something nice for someone. Susan is your friend.”

“She’s not my friend, I told you that. I don’t want any friends from here. It’s not like I’m going to come back here for a reunion or exchange phone numbers with anyone. Outside of here they’ll only want to be my friend because of my connections. The only thing we have in common is that we’re addicts.” As soon as the words are out of my mouth I want to take them back. Kimberly looks like I’ve just popped the balloon she got from the fair. She sees things so differently than I do. She lives in a world where everyone helps one another, whereas my world is about who is going to scratch your back and whose ass you need to kiss.

Kimberly turns abruptly and walks away, leaving me standing on the dock. I hate watching her leave. Suddenly I realize that she thinks I meant to include her in my comment about people wanting to be my friends only because of my connections.

“Kimberly, wait,” I call, loving the way her name sounds as it comes out of my mouth. I rush up to her and step in front of her, halting her movement. “What I said back there isn’t entirely true. You’re my friend. I mean, I think of you as one and want to stay in touch with you, but these others…” I pause and shake my head. “We don’t fit into each other’s worlds. Hell, you probably don’t fit either, but I want you to.”

“We’re different,” she says, stating the truth.

I shrug. “Who gives a fuck? Opposites attract and all that shit. The other night felt pretty fucking good if you ask me.”

She blushes and I love it. I pull her close, only to realize people are probably watching. “Is there a place we can go?”

Kimberly shakes her head and avoids making eye contact with me. I run my hand through my hair as a flood of emotions starts to take over. The thought of never getting to see her again sends a gut-wrenching pain through my body. I know it’s been only a little over a week and the circumstances suck shit, but I have to tell her. She has to know what I’m feeling.

“I want to see you outside of here, show you the world I live in and have you experience the glitz and glam of Hollywood and the music world. I know you probably think we’re all screwed up, and maybe we are, but you’re teaching me how to be a better person. I know what I did for Susan was a good thing, but I didn’t do it so people could make a big deal about it. I did it because she’s trying to get better and has no one in her corner once she leaves here. I can’t imagine that. I can’t fathom what it must be like not to have a support system when you walk out of rehab. She needs that. I’m just in a position, because of who my parents are and what I do for a living, to give that to her. Whether she takes me up on it or not is yet to be seen.

“But you…you’re important to me. So important that I can’t think straight sometimes, because I have so much fear that if I leave here I’ll never see you again. I’ve dreamt about you from the first night I was here. The other day, when you took me riding, you shocked the shit out of me, but the way you made me feel, giving yourself to me like that…” I shake my head. “Fuck, Kim, that was the sexiest thing I have ever done. So what’s my alternative? To keep using so that I can see you? Or pray that you’ll come see me when I’m out of here?”

The way she looks at me, with the moon casting a glow on us, makes it seem like we’re in the middle of a movie set. The only thing missing is the cheesy music put over the clip to alert the viewers that a kissing scene is coming up.

Kiss her.

I lean forward, listening to my heart, and press my lips against hers. They’re soft and mold to mine perfectly. I step toward her, closing the gap, and place my hand on her hip, bringing her forward just a hair. My tongue reaches out to test her willingness to kiss me, gliding along her lower lip. She places her hands on my chest and her fingers brush over my skin, sending shock waves to my core. And the burn…the burn I felt from the moment I shook her hand is there and it’s strong. I have never believed in fate or destiny, but maybe that burning feeling is a sign that this is the right path for us.

This kiss is different from what happened the other day. That one was rushed, our hunger for each other playing out. Tonight I’m trying to show her that I can be sensitive and romantic. I can kiss her under the moonlight if that’s what she needs.

“Stop,” she says, pushing me away. I do as she asks, not wanting to upset her.

“I’m not sorry I did that, Kim.”

“I know, and I’m not sorry you did that either, but you’re a patient here and it’s not right.”

“What about when I’m not a patient? What about outside these imaginary walls when we’re adults in the world?”

She shakes her head and places her fingers over the lips I just kissed. “I don’t know, Bodhi. You’re a risk and…I just don’t know.”

Kim leaves me standing on the hillside, watching as she walks away.

Chapter 10

Bodhi

I haven’t been able to get that kiss out of my mind since it happened. The setting was almost picture-perfect, with the moonlight, the pond rippling behind us, and the faint sound of an owl hooting off in the distance. The only problem is that we’re at a rehab facility, I’m a patient, and she’s an employee. Not just any employee, but the owner’s daughter. The odds are stacked against us. I’m in a situation that I don’t know how to control. I want Kim in every way possible, and I don’t know if I’m going to get what I want this time.

“Good morning, Bodhi.”

“Morning, Dr. Rosenberg.” I’ve grown fond of the good doc, but I’m still fearful of her office. Even though I don’t remember everything from my paranoid episode, the eerie feeling I had is still there when I meet her in her office. Not to mention that I can’t look at the picture of the ladybug on her wall without a panic attack starting. So we meet in my room now.

We’re allowed to decorate our rooms, and some of the people here have pretty nice rooms. Mine is bare, with nothing on the walls and no mementos from home. I don’t want to feel like this place is so comfortable that I never want to leave, so it’s best that everything just stay at my place.

“How are you?”

“I’m good,” I tell her honestly. This is my third week here, and I’m finally over the urge to snort anything. If the bloody noses, which I experienced a few more of in the first week here, weren’t enough to get me to stop, Kim, Susan, and my parents are.

“I see your father came to visit again. How are things progressing with the two of you?”

I nod. “He did,” I say. One thing I learned about talking to someone like Dr. Rosenberg is that I hold a lot of resentment and anger toward my father and I didn’t realize it. I’ve held a grudge about my lack of a real childhood, all the things I would’ve like to have done with my dad that kids from school did—play football, catch a baseball game, even going out for ice cream—but which I never got to do. But my resentment goes deeper than that. I’ve realized that I feel like I was abandoned as a child, left to be raised by nannies or having to make an appointment to see him. “I never thought I’d have to do something life-threatening and stupid in order to get my dad to notice me.”

Dr. Rosenberg puts her pen down and looks at me. “Remember when we spoke about putting yourself down? How about you tell me what you just said, but put a positive spin on it?”

This is the part of therapy that I don’t like: always being positive. Sometimes your actions in life are just negative and you deal with it. Not everything has to be sunshine and puppy dogs. I take a deep sigh and try to think of a way to compliment my father instead of insult him, even though he’s not here.

“I can’t do it. What I said is the truth. I can’t sugarcoat it or pretend like I had this amazing childhood, because I didn’t. Sure, I was spoiled, traveling the world, but that doesn’t make up for the fact that my parents were gone a lot. My friends Brayden and Carson are always talking about their families, and I don’t have the same type of stories they do. That makes you take a hard look at your life. And when that hard look is fucking ugly, you start trying to numb that shit so you don’t have to look anymore.” I take another deep breath and center myself. “I think my actions, as stupid as they were, have opened their eyes, and part of me doesn’t want to be sorry for that.”

Dr. Rosenberg doesn’t say anything, but scribbles on her pad of paper. She writes furiously, pausing only to flip the page. I can’t imagine what she’s saying about me. With my luck, she’s going to recommend me for a longer stay.

If that happens, I don’t know what I’ll do. Rebel has been kind enough to send, through my father, new music that I have to learn. We’re still scheduled to play at the movie awards a few weeks from now, and this is the song she wants us to learn. So far I’ve looked at the lyrics only a few times, not wanting to stress myself out while I’m here.

“Let’s talk about when you leave here. What will change for you?”

This is a tough one. I rub my hands down the front of my pants, gripping my legs in the process to remind myself that I’m here, I’m alive.

“Aspen has to change. I hate that I’m losing my friend, but it’s for the best, at least until we’re strong enough on the outside to deny the urges. I don’t know where she went. I was letting her live in my house, but she left the night my dad staged the intervention.”

“Is she your only trigger?”

I shake my head. “Exhaustion was my trigger, and Aspen had the answer. It snowballed from there.” I try not to laugh at the pun, because honestly, it’s not funny. “I have to know when enough is enough and speak up.”

“Right, Bodhi. And what will you do when you feel an urge to medicate?”

“Call you or Dr. Gordon. Either one of you will always take my call.”

“That is one step, yes, but there are others. Remember we talked about walking away and doing something else, or recalling the paranoia. That usually isn’t a coping method that I like to suggest, but it seems to work with you.”

“Yeah, I don’t need a reminder.” I smile at her, letting her know the ladybugs are fresh in my mind.

“Do you plan to share in the group today?”

I shake my head. I haven’t shared yet, and today doesn’t seem any more likely.

“I wish you would. It’s good to get support from your peers.”

I don’t argue with her like I did with Kimberly. It’s not worth the lecture. They’re not my peers, and aside from Susan, I don’t talk to anyone. I keep to myself. I do my chores. And I wait for Kim. My alone time is spent on the bench either sitting next to Susan or by myself.

“Bodhi, I want to tell you that I’m really proud of the progress you’ve made. It doesn’t matter how long you were addicted; the fact of the matter is that you’ve been trying, and trying is very important.”

“Thanks,” I say as Dr. Rosenberg leaves my room, ending my session. I’m trying not to count how many sessions I have left because that means I won’t see Kimberly every day anymore, but damn if I’m not ready to go home.

No, that’s not entirely true. Physically I may be ready, but mentally…I’m still wavering.

—

“What are you doing?”

I look up at the sound of Kimberly’s voice and watch her walk toward me.

“Learning this song.”

She sits down in the grass next to me, crossing her bare legs underneath her. I have to look away because impure thoughts race through my mind about what I’d like to do with those legs of hers.

“Is it a good one?”

“I’m not really sure,” I say with a shrug. “Sometimes we get songs that we think are good and we record them, only to have them turn out like shit.”

“Do you like being in the group?”

I put the lyrics down so I can focus on her. This is something new for me. Before coming here I would’ve kept reading and offered only one-word answers. But Kimberly is important to me, and I have to find out how I’m going to keep her in my life.

“I do. I love it. The guys, Brayden and Carson, they’re like my brothers.”

“But the drugs?”

Shaking my head, I pull my knees to my chest. “It’s not just the drugs. There’s drinking. We party a lot. A lot of people think it’s because we have nothing better to do, but that’s not true. The industry sets up all these events, and they pay us to make appearances, to have our photos taken.”

“How has your absence been explained?”

I shrug, not really sure. “I think the cover was a long vacation. I don’t really know. Our manager is tough, but she pushes us to be the best. It’s paid off, you know, aside from the initial exhaustion and my poor choices.”

Kim stops with the questions after that response and we sit in silence, watching the people around us.

Eventually she asks, “Do you want to go for a walk with me?”

I can’t help but laugh because I’d go anywhere she wanted me to. “I think you know the answer to that question.” I stand and offer her my hand, a sneaky way to hold her hand without anyone being suspicious of my actions. Even after she stands, I hold on a bit longer than would be deemed normal and wait for her to pull away. I enjoy the way my body feels when I touch her, even in the most innocent ways. When she looks up at me through her blond locks, I see in her eyes that she likes the way our hands feel together.

Reluctantly she lets go and starts walking. We stroll past the horse barn and toward the field of wildflowers. She pauses when we come to a shed and asks me to wait outside. I do, but am curious as to why. Does she think I’ll put the moves on her in there? Or maybe she knows I will. I wouldn’t even hesitate to kiss her in that shed, where no one can see us.

Kimberly emerges with something large in her hand, covered by a blanket. “Follow me,” she says, and instead of heading into the wildflowers, she turns and takes one of the trails into the woods. We come to an open spot, where it looks like there have been a few campfires.

“My dad uses this for his outside therapy sometimes. He likes to get away from the house and let his patients yell if they need to.”

“Makes sense,” I say, reaching for the blanket, but she moves away from me.

“Turn around and close your eyes,” she demands with a smile. I do as she says and contemplate looking over my shoulder to peek. I’m praying that she’s undressing and wonder if I should start taking off my clothes as well.

“Okay, you can look now.”

I turn around to find her standing next the blanket holding a guitar, still clad in her clothes. The grin on her face tells me that this is supposed to be a good thing, and I don’t have the heart to tell her I can’t play. Hell, I have zero talent.

“I bought this for you. I know your group doesn’t play instruments, but I thought that once you leave here you could use the guitar and music writing as a form of therapy.”

This is one of those moments in life where I should rush to her, scoop her up, and twirl her around before planting a kiss on her lips. Except we’re not having any of those moments…yet.

I run my hand through my hair, which is longer than I’m used to, and shake my head slowly. “I can’t play,” I tell her as I shrug. “I can play the piano a little bit, but that’s it.”

“I know. I asked your dad. I’m going to teach you.”

“You are?”

She nods. “Come sit down. Let me show you.”

I do as she says and take a seat on the blanket. I’m expecting her to sit next to me, so when she sits on my lap, I’m shocked. My hands are suspended in midair because I don’t know where to put them, and she’s wiggling in my lap, causing a few issues that I really can’t deal with here.

“Put your hands on mine.”

I rest my head on her shoulder so I can see what I’m doing and try to pretend she’s not sitting on my lap with her perfectly shaped ass pressing against my growing erection. As soon as my fingers come in contact with hers, mine tingle with anticipation. My whole body is in flames and alive with energy. I love this feeling. This is enough to sustain me. To remind me why I don’t need coke in my life.

“This is E major—you put your fingers here and here,” she says, moving my fingers into place before strumming. The sound is lost on me because I can’t get over the fact that she’s sitting in my lap.

“Where did you learn to play?” My words come out as more of a whisper than I intend, giving her pause.

“The Web. Sometimes I get bored here and want to try new things.” While I’m pressing the strings for E major, she’s playing a little song and singing out loud. I don’t know if it’s to me or what, but it’s beautiful.

She shows me another chord, this time placing my fingers where she wants them. I can’t stop looking at her and marveling how beautiful she is. Now I know why my father has reserved that word for my mother when he talks about her. Kimberly’s beauty runs deep in her soul.

“You should sing something,” she says, causing me to laugh. “What’s so funny?”

“I really can’t sing.”

She looks at me quizzically, and I shrug. “What do you mean, you can’t sing? You’re part of the hottest group in the world. I hear you sing all the time!”

How do you know when you’ve fallen for someone? You tell them the most embarrassing stories about your life and you do it with no fear.

“It’s called Auto-Tune. I can sing, but it’s not great. And the fact that you listen to Virtuous Paradox is really fucking hot.”

“Wow, I don’t know what to say.” She starts laughing.

“The music industry isn’t what you think,” I say, slipping my hands under her shirt so they rest on her skin. I’m not going to give up trying to get her. I can’t. She’s my new fucking drug.

“But you do sing?”

“Yes, just not well,” I admit.

“Interesting.” She returns her focus to teaching me the chords. I purposely mess up just so I can get her to stop and look at me. When she starts playing a song that I know, I start singing, only to have her stop and start laughing. Now this could be a turning point for us. I could take the laughing as a sign that I completely suck, or a sign that I can make her laugh. I’m going for the latter until she tells me otherwise.

“I get it now,” she says, covering her ears. I shake my head and pretend that I’m hurt. I’m not, but it’s fun to play. It’s refreshing to be free and not have any demands on me right now.

“I’m surprised you aren’t required to take voice lessons. I mean, you can sing, but I see what you mean. You sound nothing like the guy I listen to.”

“I like that you listen. Do you watch our videos?”

She turns and looks at me. “I feel creepy telling you this—you might think I’m a crazy fan.”

“I’m sort of hoping that you are. Do you like the videos?”

She nods. “It’s the way you move your hips and look at the camera.”

“Like this?” I ask as I try to gyrate with her on my lap. It’s not easy and the solid ground is unforgiving, but I think she gets the picture.

She looks at me again, but this time it’s different. This time the tension in the air is thicker and everything around us has stilled. Her fingers lock with mine and press against the strings of the guitar. Our chests inhale and exhale in unison as our breathing becomes the focal point around us. And when she licks her lips, I know I’m the one who is going to make the move.

“You’re so beautiful,” I say as I press my lips against the side of her neck. She tenses briefly but doesn’t ask me to stop or push me away, so I keep moving my lips along her skin, placing small kisses up her neck and behind her ear.

My hand pulls the guitar away from her and sets it on the ground. She turns in my lap, letting me capture her lips with mine. This time she doesn’t allow me to tease her lower lip, as her tongue seeks mine out before I’m even ready. Somehow I have stealth-like moves and am able to lay us on the ground with Kimberly cradled in my arms and our legs tangled as our hands hold and caress each other.

I nip at her lip and am rewarded with a hiss. Her sweet sound encourages me, teases me. Kimberly is aggressive with her lips, hungry. She acts like she can’t get enough, and that scares me. I pull away and place openmouthed kisses along her cheek, stopping to nibble on her ear before moving down her neck and back to her mouth, where I take over. I slow things down and kiss her deeply while my hand holds her face.

We adjust so I’m hovering over her. It’d be so easy to just rip our clothes off and pleasure ourselves, but I don’t want to cheapen the way I feel about her.

“You’re so beautiful,” I tell her again in between kisses.

“You are too, with your pouty lips always looking like James Dean and your perfect blue eyes.” She pulls me down for another kiss, not giving me much time to bask in the major compliment she just gave me.

This is how we stay until we hear the call for dinner. And only then do we stop kissing. I can’t remember a time when I made out with a girl without trying to feel her up or have her suck my dick. It’s not that I don’t want to do that with Kim; I do, but not here. There’s a better time and place for us to be alone, and when that happens I won’t be a patient. I’ll be clean and sober, someone she can be proud of.

Chapter 11

Bodhi

I used coke to get high, to feel like I was invincible and could do anything. I snorted because I thought no one, including myself, cared about how I was ruining my life. I wasn’t going to be that person—the one who got addicted. I told myself I could stop at any time, that what I was doing was only for recreational purposes and not a matter of survival. I loved the way I felt when the powder invaded my bloodstream. I basked in the euphoria. Coke was my friend, and friends don’t hurt each other.

I was wrong.

After my first line, I craved more. I loved the high so much that I never wanted to come down. The first time with Aspen was enough to start my downfall. I like to think that if she wasn’t around I would’ve stopped, but the candy was readily available. I didn’t have to ask; she just knew. I don’t want to call her a dealer, but she was. I also don’t like referring to her as someone who fed me the drugs, because I had free will, but if she hadn’t been there, I don’t know if I’d be here now.

But I am, and now I have a new drug, one that goes by the name of Kimberly Gordon.

I can see why addiction is such a strong feeling. When you physically crave or desire an object, there isn’t anything that is going to stand in your way, and that is how I feel about Kimberly. The other night, in the woods, was a turning point. At least for me it was. That night by the pond I put myself out there, only to be told I’m a risk. I know I am. I’m an addict, and there is always the threat of a relapse; in my world, the threat is even greater. Who in their right mind would want to be involved with me?

After each therapy session I question whether I’m good enough for Kim. I’m reminded almost daily of the triggers that exist and how I’m going to cope with them. Deep down I’m aware I can’t use Kim as a coping mechanism, but she can help. Knowing she’s in my corner or that at a certain time I’m going to see her is a relief. It’s the unknown that scares me. What if I leave here and never see her again?

No, that can’t happen. Not after everything we’ve shared. And not after she kissed me again. She didn’t ask me to stop or pull away even though we could’ve been caught by anyone out for a walk. Kimberly let me hold her, caress her. She didn’t tell me I was wrong for feeling this way. I’m going to keep on thinking she feels the same until she tells me otherwise.

I think about how someone like her should be happy, and I wonder if I’m the one to do that for her. On paper it looks like I have my shit together. Yes, Virtuous Paradox is a success, but if I’m not careful, I could lose my spot with the group. I firmly believe that even though I have a trust fund that sets me up for life, she needs something better. Physically the only thing I have going for me is my looks, which won’t get me very far if I’m not careful.

As luck would have it, I see on the chore list that I’m assigned to Kim’s office today. When I arrive, she’s not at her desk. I don’t let that bother me, since it’s happened before, but this is the first time I’ve really had a chance to see her since the other afternoon. I can’t put into words how I felt with her on my lap, teaching me how to play the guitar.

I’m dusting her cabinets when she walks in. I hear her behind me but act like I’m enthralled by the job I’m doing. Not turning around to see her is painful, but I’m thinking that I can play a little hard to get. I have to bite the inside of my cheek when I hear her huff.

“Excuse me, Bodhi. I need help getting a box down.”

I set the feather duster down and turn to see her walking away from me. Okay, maybe ignoring her wasn’t the best idea. I follow her to a closet, which she opens.

“It’s that one,” she says, pointing into the closet.

As I move past her, I see that her eyes are focused on the box. Either she’s pissed or she’s playing coy because she’s at work. I’m going with the coy angle because she has to know I was only teasing; if she doesn’t, I’ll be sure to show her later.

I step into the closet, but suddenly I hear the door click shut behind me and I’m plunged into darkness. Her arms are around my waist before I can even turn around to find out what’s going on. My heart starts to race with anticipation as I slowly turn in her arms. Without any light, I have to let my other senses do the work, with my favorite being touch.

“I shouldn’t be in here with you,” she whispers.

“Why are you, then?” I ask, letting my fingers trail down the side of her face.

“Because I can’t stay away from you. It’s morally wrong and I could lose my job, but you’re not just any patient.”

“You’re right, I’m not,” I say against her neck.

“Bodhi?”

God, I love the way my name sounds when she says it. It’s something I want to hear every day for the rest of my life. I don’t care if I’m too young to make a life-altering decision like this. I know she’s the one.

“Kimberly?”

“Kiss me. Kiss me like you’re never going to see me again. Kiss me like I’m the last woman alive. Kiss me like I’m your salvation.”

“With pleasure.”

Her hands ghost up my shirt until her fingers are brushing along my neck. The way my skin pebbles causes my eyes to close. Kimberly trails her nails along my cheek until she’s outlining my lower lip and pulling me down gently to meet my lips with hers. The moment our tongues touch, she’s gripping the fabric of my shirt. My fingers spread into her hair so I can hold her to me, needing to feel her pressed against my body. Her hands roam, first over my pecs, then down to my abs; when she slips her hand under my shirt, my skin becomes electrified.

I want to touch her, feel her bare flesh against the pads of my fingers. My hand roams to her neck, over her shoulder, down her arm, and across her back until I have the courage to cup her breast in my hand. She moans in my mouth when I touch her, and I push into her, letting her know that I want her. Her hand rests against my ass as she grinds into me. I move my lips to her neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses along her skin and over her shirt until my mouth is at her breast. I cup both breasts, massaging them in my hands, until she places her hands on my top of mine, stopping me.

“Sorry,” I tell her. The last thing I want to do is hurt her.

Kimberly doesn’t say anything, but guides my hands under her shirt until the tips of my fingers are touching her bra. I risk sliding a finger under the bottom, flesh on flesh, waiting to see what she says. Her hand brushes against my crotch, and I jerk, because I didn’t expect her to touch me.

And since I’m all about taking risks with her, I reluctantly take one hand away from her chest and undo my pants, letting her have whatever freedom she wants. She slides her hand into my boxer briefs and touches my hard-on. When her fingers run up and down my shaft I lose all sense and just about come in my pants.

“Fuck, Kimberly,” I say as I lift her shirt over her head and pull down the cups of her bra so I can taste her. God, how I want to see her right now, but if this is how she needs to do things, I’m game. I step to the side so she can still touch me and I can suck on her breast. My tongue flicks her nipple just as she pulls my dick out of my pants and starts stroking.

Kim straddles my leg and starts moving, looking for friction. I pull her skirt up over her hips to help her. The crotch of her panties is wet. I move it aside and give her two fingers. She cries out, digging her nails into my back.

“You’re so hard,” she says, running her hand up and down my shaft.

“You do this to me, baby.”

“Show me.”

I pause, but only briefly, then lift her up. She wraps her legs around my waist. The tip of my dick touches her core and fucking jumps into action. I brace myself against the wall and slide into her as she bites down on my shoulder.

“Your pussy is so fucking perfect,” I tell her as I thrust into her. She moans, taking every inch of my dick deep into her. “Shh,” I remind her.

She bites down on my lip, whimpering as I grab her ass and use her legs to help me pound into her. I cover her mouth with mine to keep her quiet. Anyone could open the closet and catch us, and as little as I care about what might happen to me, I do care about her and what could happen to her.

Kimberly starts moving against me, letting me know she’s close. I slide my hand in between us and press down on her clit to help her get her orgasm.

“Holy fuck,” I say as her walls pulse around my dick. “That’s the best feeling ever.” I stay still, relishing the feeling.

“Don’t fucking stop,” she says, digging her heels into my ass. I do as she says and am met with the most explosive rush of warmth I have ever experienced.

A loud bang outside stops us. Our hearts are pounding so loud we can’t hear what’s going on outside the closet. In an instant I’m soft, limp, and falling out of her. This is embarrassing, going limp before I can finish. I never thought I’d be in a situation like this, and definitely not with her. The only thing I can do to save face is let her down gently, kissing her neck, as I act like it’s no big deal that I lost my erection.

We search for her shirt, and after she dresses, I pull her to me and hold her, kissing her softly.

“I only have a week left,” I whisper into her hair, which smells like coconut, the beach, and summer—three of my favorite things.

“I know.”

“I can’t leave unless I know I’ll see you outside here.”

“You can’t stay here, Bodhi. You have a life.”

“And I want to try it out with you,” I say, kissing her quiet.

Chapter 12

Kimberly

As soon as we emerge from the closet, I rush off to my apartment, leaving Bodhi in my office. Unfortunately, by leaving that way I’ve shown him where I live, and that was something I wanted to avoid. It’s not that I didn’t want him to know; I just didn’t want him to be tempted to seek me out when he should be resting. It’s been hard enough knowing that he’s lying in a bed alone not far from me. I’ve caught myself many times walking down the hall where his room is, only to pause. I know he would’ve welcomed me with open arms.

I stare at myself in the mirror. The freshly fucked look is evident, and even though he didn’t touch my hair, it’s a mess. Running a brush through my hair, I pull it up in a ponytail and straighten my clothes, fixing my skewed panties.

I don’t know what I was thinking, letting that happen, and as I stand here considering the ramifications, I know I’m in trouble. What if he hasn’t been safe in the past? I don’t want to think negatively about Bodhi, but the truth of the matter is, he’s an addict and addicts use sex to score. The thought makes me lose the contents of my stomach.

“Kimberly?” His voice is full of worry and his hand soft along my back as I kneel in the bathroom.

“You shouldn’t be in here.”

“I know, but I wanted to check on you.”

“I’m fine, Bodhi.”

He leaves my side, but only to run the water and hand me a wet washcloth. As much as I don’t want to take it, I do.

“Thank you.” I flush the toilet and stand up. There’s a pained look on his face. I did that to him when I ran out on him. We just had sex because I asked him, and now I wouldn’t be surprised if he thinks I’m repulsed by him.

“Without sounding like a pussy, did I hurt you?”

I shake my head and work quickly to brush my teeth.

“Then what’s wrong?”

I rest my hands on the counter and fight the tears that are coming. I don’t want to cry in front of him, but they’re coming whether I like it or not.

“We just had sex without a condom,” I say bluntly.

“Okay, well, I didn’t come, so if it’s because you’re not on the pill—”

“Don’t be naive, Bodhi. You can get a woman pregnant without actually ejaculating. But that’s not it. You’re an addict and I don’t know if you’re clean.”

He steps back at my insult, and I immediately regret what I’ve just said. I try to reach for him, but he puts his hands up. “I get it,” he says. “No need to explain on my behalf.” He turns away. I call for him, but he doesn’t return. The slamming of my door startles me, and a second later I break down and cry.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

—

I don’t see Bodhi later at dinner, and when I go to look for him, he’s in his room. I open the door and peek in to find him lying on his bed, facing the wall.

“Bodhi?”

He doesn’t answer me.

“You need to come to dinner,” I say as I step into his room. I sit in the chair by his bed and fight the urge to reach out and touch him.

When I get no response, I say, “You really need to get up and come to dinner. There are rules….” This gets Bodhi to roll over. He looks at me, his eyes red-rimmed, and I can tell he’s been crying.

“Fuck the rules. If I wanted to eat, I would. Get out, Kimberly.” He turns back toward the wall, ignoring me.

I leave quietly, trying to figure out how to fix the mess I’ve created. It’s not going to be easy, but it needs to be done, because I can’t let my foolish and selfish actions hamper his recovery. I make my way to the cafeteria and fix us both plates of food. If I get caught, there’s no doubt I’ll lose my job, but I don’t care. I did that to him even though I knew better, and I need to make it right.

I return to his room with the food. When I enter, he’s in the same spot he was in when I left.

“I brought you dinner and you’re going to eat.”

“Go away.”

“No.” I climb up onto his bed and squeeze myself between the wall and his body. He closes his eyes, unwilling to look at me.

“I’m sorry for what I said. I panicked because we didn’t use any protection.” I whisper the words, fearful that someone may overhear us. “I’ve seen so much damage while working here, and all the negativity just swarmed over me and I blocked out the good stuff, like how you make me feel and how when I’m with you I forget that I’m supposed to be the responsible one and ward off your advances, but I’m often the one coming on to you. But I realized as soon as you walked out that you wouldn’t do something that might hurt me, would you, Bodhi?”

That question gets him to open his eyes and finally look at me.

“I would never do anything to hurt you, Kimberly.”

“I know, but my mind and heart weren’t communicating, and I spoke the words before I knew what I was saying.” I close the gap and kiss him softly on the lips. “I fear that I’m not good for you, Bodhi. This is the last thing you needed.”

“What I need is you,” he says. He pulls me closer to him. We stay like this for a few minutes until my tummy rumbles.

“You’re hungry?” he says.

I nod and smile. “I missed lunch.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you brought us dinner, then, isn’t it?”

“It is.” I sit up and climb over his legs as he rolls over. He finally gets up and sits on the edge of his bed, taking one of the plates.

“Thank you,” he says, and I look at him questioningly. “For this, but mostly for realizing the truth. I was contemplating leaving tonight after everyone went to bed.”

My heart falls, knowing I put doubt in his mind. “Well, it’s a good thing I didn’t listen to you when you told me to go away.”

“Yeah, good thing.” But Bodhi’s words don’t match the tone of his voice. He’s not okay. Fear starts to set in that the damage I did can’t be undone. I can’t risk staying in his room tonight, and there is no way he can stay with me in my apartment. There’s only one solution.

“I want you to tell Dr. Rosenberg that you don’t feel well.”

“Why would I do that?” he asks.

“Because she’ll put you in a different room over in the medical area, and that means I can stay in there as long as I want.”

“You want to spend the night with me?”

I nod as I take a bite of my food. “I do, but we can’t do it here.”

“We can’t do it in there either. What, are you going to crawl into my bed?”

I laugh and shake my head. “No, I’ll sleep in the chair next to your bed.”

Bodhi studies me for a moment before he smiles. “I’ll try to convince her.” He winks, causing my heart to skip.

We finish our dinner, chatting about what life is like for him outside of Serenity Springs, and he tells me that he’s not excited about his parents coming in tomorrow. He says that right now things are good with his dad, but he fears that after tomorrow’s meeting with Dr. Rosenberg and his parents, they’ll brush aside his concerns.

Once we finish, I take the dishes back to the cafeteria and hunt down Dr. Rosenberg to let her know that Bodhi isn’t feeling well. As I predicted, she rushes to his room, and he somehow convinces her that he’s in a lot of pain. She has an orderly wheel him down to the medical ward, and because it’s almost time for her to leave, she asks me to check in on him throughout the night, which I happily agree to.

After everyone goes to bed, I go into his room and pull the chair up next to his bed. At first he wants to make out, but I convince him to let me read to him. There’s something sensual about watching him listen to me read as he holds my hand.

Chapter 13

Bodhi

I have a session with Dr. Rosenberg and my parents today. I would much rather be in the medical ward with Kim reading to me, but here I am sitting in Dr. Gordon’s office with Dr. Rosenberg, waiting for my parents to arrive, because I can’t stand to be in Dr. Rosenberg’s office. Just the thought of going in there freaks me out.

When my parents walk in, we hug and take our respective seats. I don’t know how they feel about being securitized, but if it’s part of my healing process, it has to be done.

“Good afternoon. I’m Dr. Rosenberg. I have been treating Bodhi since his arrival at Serenity Springs and have gotten to know him pretty well over the past few weeks.”

Both my parents murmur a greeting. My mom sits with her hands neatly folded in her lap, while my dad sits as if he’s talking to one of his producers. He’s probably treating this like a business meeting.

“One of the avenues we like to explore during therapy is home life.”

“Bodhi has a great life,” my dad interrupts, but Dr. Rosenberg doesn’t miss a beat, even though I’m giving her the I-told-you-so look.

“No one is saying otherwise, Mr. McKnight. During therapy we pinpoint and identify triggers. I called you both here today because Bodhi needs to feel safe when he tells you how he feels and he needs for you to listen. Go ahead, Bodhi.”

“I don’t understand,” Mom says to Dr. Rosenberg before I can speak. “Are you saying we caused Bodhi’s drug problem?”

I sigh deeply.

“No one is saying that, Mom. What Dr. Rosenberg means is that since I’m moving home after I’m out of here, we, as a family, need to eliminate any potential triggers, so I don’t relapse.”

“I guess I don’t know why we’re here,” she says again as she crosses her legs.

“You’re here because you were shitty parents, that’s why,” I shout in a fit of anger. “You’re here because I did not have a normal childhood. While you were working all the damn time, I was raised by nannies, not you. You’re here because both of you are triggers.”

“You’re saying your mother and I are responsible for your drug use?”

“Dad, will you listen for one minute? What I’m saying is that instead of being parents, you put work ahead of nurturing your child.”

I grab at my head and bend over to ward off the impending headache. “I have a lot of anger toward you both. I hear all these amazing stories about how my friends’ parents played catch with them in the yard or took them to football games. We never did that. I know you provided well for me, but the part where you’re supposed to love me feels empty. I know you’ve been here for me since all this shit went down, but part of me thinks you did that to ward off the negative press.

“You have to understand,” I tell them, “that I grew up so fast. I started using pot at fifteen, drinking even earlier. I was fourteen when I had sex for the first time. All of this was happening under your roof, and you didn’t have a clue. I missed my chance at being a kid because no one gave a shit about what I was doing. Kids need structure, they need a path. I was given a credit card and a chauffeur.”

I lean back in my chair, emotionally exhausted. I didn’t want to have this conversation, and now that I’ve said my piece, I feel like a complete shit. Did I miss out on a lot? Yeah, I did. Does it define who I am? Apparently it does.

I look at Dr. Rosenberg and shake my head. “I don’t care what you say,” I tell her. “This doesn’t help my recovery.” I throw my hands up in the air, exasperated.

“I…I don’t know what to say.” The quaver in my mother’s voice tells me she’s upset. She’s never liked confrontation.

My dad is silent. I look over at him and can tell he’s stewing. He’s gnawing on his lower lip and likely listing the reasons my fucked-up life is my own fault. He may not say it here, but I suspect he will when I go home in a week. He clears his throat and shifts in his seat.

“I can see where Bodhi is coming from,” he says to Dr. Rosenberg, much to my surprise. “My wife and I work a lot, and we’re often out of town. I’m the first to admit that I have failed Bodhi. However, when I was informed that my son was using drugs, I took the necessary steps to get him the help he needs. Bodhi is an adult and needs to learn to ask for help, or speak up when something is a problem for him. He’s never done that.

“My wife and I will make sure that these triggers won’t be causing him any harm. He’s my son, and the last thing I want is for him to go back to the drugs.”

“What changes will be made?” Dr. Rosenberg asks.

“I’m not sure. I mean, I can’t go back in time to change the past. If I could, I would definitely change how I parented him. But we can do something about the future…providing he wants to make the change.”

“I do,” I tell him.

Dad smiles.

“Dr. Rosenberg,” Dad says to her, “I can sit here all day and apologize for our lack of parenting, but that isn’t going to make Bodhi any better. He needs to focus on tomorrow and the next day. If there is a trigger, he needs to speak up so we can remove it and focus on his health. Going back over the past isn’t going to fix anything. We’re here now for our son, and that’s what’s important.” He grabs my mom’s hand.

I glance at Dr. Rosenberg. She looks stunned.

“I was a horrible mother,” my mom begins, her voice rough. “When he was born I never wanted to let him go, but I couldn’t work with him on the set. Nowadays, children are everywhere, but back then things were different, and I missed the opportunity to be a real mom to him.”

I wipe away the tears that are falling from my eyes. I reach over and take her hand in mine, squeezing it tightly. She squeezes back.

“Bodhi, what can your parents do to help you transition to living at home?”

I knew this question would be coming, and I thought I knew the answer. But now I think the real answer is something different.

“Weekly dinners, and we never go a month without spending time together as a family. We’re all busy, me included, and it wouldn’t be fair to my mom to make her lose out on her movie roles. If my dad is off, we’ll fly to her. I’ll make it work with my manager.”

“I’d like that,” Mom says.

“Very much,” Dad adds.

We spend another ten minutes talking with Dr. Rosenberg before she rises to signal the end of the session. I offer to give my parents a tour of the grounds, take them out to the stable, but they decline. I get it. While I’m comfortable here, they’re not.

I walk them toward the entrance and give them both long, lingering hugs. They tell me they’ll see me next week, when they come to pick me up.

Pick me up. Words have never felt so good in my head. I’ll be out of here in a week, barring any unforeseen setbacks.

Now I have to ensure that Kim will be coming with me, or at least agreeing to see me outside of here.

Chapter 14

Bodhi

This is it—my last group session. We’re sitting outside in the shade of some trees. If I’d been expecting something to mark the occasion, I would be totally depressed right now. Dr. Rosenberg hasn’t said a thing about me leaving today, and neither has Kim. I guess deep down I thought Dr. Rosenberg would at least announce in group that today is my last day, that I’m graduating from the program. But nothing.

With Kim I’m hoping her silence is because she’s upset or busy and not because she doesn’t like goodbyes. I’ve never had a goodbye that has been meaningful. With my parents, they were always leaving, and it was something I was used to. Leaving Kimberly, though…I’m not sure how well I’m going to be able to cope with that.

I have never spent so much time with one person. Almost every day for the past thirty days I have seen her and talked with her about life, and for the past three weeks I’ve snuck into closets, the woods, and even behind the shed to be with her, to hold and kiss her.

But I have yet to find the words to tell her how I feel or let her know that I want to be with her when I leave Serenity Springs, that my life won’t be the same without her in it. Leaving tonight is not an option unless I know I’m going to see her, unless I know that someday very soon she’ll be walking hand in hand with me where the world can see that I’ve fallen for her. The drive from Los Angeles to San Diego isn’t that bad and one I can easily make to accommodate her schedule.

Since Kimberly introduced me to the guitar, I’ve been practicing. It’s not much, but I’m trying to master the two chords she taught me. One of the changes I want to make going forward is to learn the instrument so I can contribute to Virtuous Paradox more. I think that when I tell Carson, he’ll be excited and want to teach me. I’ll be working with a voice coach too, because of something Dr. Rosenberg said in our last group session about being responsible for your surroundings. I know she was talking about drugs and alcohol, but I’m trying to apply it to my career as well. I already know it’s going to be a struggle to separate myself from the after-parties, because those are required for the job. I can already see myself sitting by the door with water in my hand, ready to make a quick exit.

I’m at Serenity Springs not because of booze but for coke. No one has said that I can’t drink, but I feel like alcohol and drugs go hand in hand for me. If I have too many drinks, I may crave coke or get so blitzed out of my mind that I do it. I’m not saying I’m cured. I’m not saying I never think about the exhilaration I get from snorting. I’m saying that my life is important and there are things I want to do with it. Drugs don’t mix with that.

Kimberly walks by our group session and our eyes meet. I can’t even begin to describe what the sight of her does to me. Just the vision of her blond hair and blue eyes stirs my insides, and when she’s near or we’re touching, it feels as if she’s burning herself into my being. The feeling is indescribable. She alone has been worth the stint in rehab.

When she’s out of sight I focus my attention on Dr. Rosenberg, who says we’re going to talk about our relationships waiting for us back home and the repairs we have to do. My parents have been here and we even had that session together, so we’re good. Brayden and Carson, as far as I know, don’t have a clue where I am, although I’ll probably tell them. The only other person I need to see is Aspen, but I’m not strong enough for that yet. I don’t know how long I’ll be able to hide from her, but I’m going to try. Being at my parents’ will help, though.

“If you were single when you arrived, it’s better to stay single for a while when you return home.” Dr. Rosenberg’s statement catches me off guard. I know there’s no way I heard her correctly. Why would we stay single?

“I’m sorry, but can you explain your statement?” I say, only to have everyone turn and look at me.

“It’s simple, Bodhi. Even though you’re no longer here, the healing process isn’t done. Let’s take you, for example. When you leave, you’ll be returning to work, which is a high-stress job with long hours. It’s that stress and workload that had you looking for help in the first place. You’ll need to learn to function with a clean mind and sense of being, and in order to do that you should refrain from getting involved in a relationship.”

“But what if I like someone and want to date them?”

“Were you dating before you arrived at Serenity Springs?”

I shake my head. “No, I wasn’t, but I’m hoping things will change starting tomorrow.”

Dr. Rosenberg sits back in her chair and looks at each member of the group before finally setting her eyes on me. “New relationships can be stressful. There are expectations and demands when everything is new. Those can be triggers, and for that reason I don’t recommend them, especially in your situation, Bodhi.”

And there it is, my doom, because standing right behind her is Kimberly, her eyes wide and her mouth hanging open. She recovers quickly, but not before I see her features change from shock to sorrow. I dig into the ground and grab clumps of earth to keep from calling out to her. I should get up and chase her, tell her that I don’t give a shit about what Dr. Rosenberg says because the way Kim makes me feel is a million times better than any drug.

I become antsy, waiting for our session to be over. Unfortunately, today seems to be the day when everyone wants to fucking share. My eyes keep wandering, trying to catch a glimpse of Kimberly. The first place I’m going to look is her office, and then I’ll try her apartment, even though I haven’t been back there since our fateful day in the closet. After that I don’t know where to look, because honestly, she knows more about me than I do about her, and that is something I need to rectify the moment I’m out of here. Not to mention that she knows this property better than I do, plus she has a car and could leave.

Would she leave and not say goodbye? My heart tells me no, but after what I just witnessed I’m not so sure. She feels something for me. I know she does. I can tell by the way she brushes her hand against mine when she thinks no one is looking or by the way she has spent every day with me. I can tell by the way she kisses me, the way she touches me. You don’t do that with someone you don’t have feelings for.

Do you?

Fuck, I used to. I’ve treated so many women like shit just to get laid. Maybe that is what I have to repair when I get back to L.A.—sit down and write each one of them a letter explaining how sorry I am for being such a douche.

Dr. Rosenberg calls an end to the session, and I am up and walking briskly toward the door. She calls my name, but I ignore her. There isn’t anything she can say to me that will change how I feel. Kimberly and I deserve a chance outside these walls to see if what we have is real. That’s all I want—one chance to be someone that she can count on, since she’s been mine for the month. I want to be able to show her that I can take care of her and not be this stupid, ignorant, pompous ass who thinks the world is his for the taking.

I hesitate at Kimberly’s office door, praying she’s in there. I knock twice before opening the door. She has an open-door policy, and if she wasn’t working today, her door would be locked.

Except she’s not sitting at her desk when I step in. And she’s not waiting for me in the closet—I had to check, just in case. I knock on the door that leads to her apartment, and when she doesn’t answer, I try the knob. It doesn’t open. Not that I expected it to, but I’d hoped. I rack my brain, trying to come up with an idea of where she could be before I lose my shit and end up confined to a room with another needle in my arm.

I pull my hair in aggravation. I want to kick and destroy everything in sight, but I refrain. Today is my last day. I don’t need to give them an excuse to keep me.

The woods.

I walk briskly toward the exit that will lead to the woods where we made out. There are a few employees hanging around, so I can’t take off at a full sprint. The last thing I need is for someone to see me running and think I’m doing something I shouldn’t be. I need for my last day to be today, regardless.

When I get to the edge of the clearing and step onto the dirt path that will lead me to our spot, I look back over my shoulder to see if anyone is watching me or coming my way. Confident that I’m alone, I continue down the path, holding my breath with each step I take. She has to be here. I can’t leave Serenity Springs without saying goodbye. I step out into the clearing and find her sitting there.

“Kimberly,” I murmur, not sure what I’m supposed to do or say. I’ve never done this before. After a pause the words begin to spill out. “What Dr. Rosenberg said back there is wrong. It’s different for you and me. You already know my demons and everything about me. I have nothing to hide from you. Everything that I am, moving forward, is because you had faith in me, because you guided me to a place that I’d never been.”

“And what place is that, Bodhi?”

“Forgiveness, love, happiness. These are all things that I’ve never known existed until you showed them to me.”

I sit down beside her and mirror her posture, with my legs pulled to my chest. I look not at her but at the tiny fire I’m assuming she started in the pit.

“Before I came here I was lost. My family didn’t care what I was doing. I met the guys and I started seeing myself differently, but with that, fear set in. What if I got tossed out of the group and lost their friendship? What if they forgot me? I did everything I could to stay in that group because I felt like I finally had someone who saw me for me and didn’t care who my parents are or what kind of house I live in. I wanted acceptance, and they gave it to me.

“Then I started taking it all for granted. I was so stupid, not realizing what an opportunity I’d been given. Rebel should’ve kicked me out, but instead she sent the three of us home for a month. This became my home, and you became someone that I looked forward to seeing every day and counted on seeing in my dreams at night. You became a reason for me to do something better, to get better.”

“Relationships that start in places like this don’t survive out in the real world,” she says softly.

But I counter with, “That’s why we’re going to start this out in the real world. I know we live a couple of hours away from each other, but we can make this work. I want to have a relationship with you, and I hope you feel the same.”

“We both have demanding jobs,” she says. “And your job has rabid fans!”

“Rabid?” I question, finally looking at her.

“Yes, they’re crazy. I’ve seen them—well, photos of them—and I’ve seen how they act when you guys are around. If you had a girlfriend, they would revolt.”

“You’re a fan,” I say, reminding her with a wink. She blushes and hides her face. I gently pull her hands away and hold them in mine, but her eyes remain downcast.

“So what if they’re rabid, crazy, and somewhat off-kilter?” I ask, shrugging. “If they knew how much I cared about her, how much I want to spend my time with her, and how I’m falling in love with her more and more with each passing day, they’d love her just as much as I do.”

Those words cause Kim to look at me. There are unshed tears in her eyes that cause my heart to break. “You’re falling in love with me?”

I nod. “I am, and I like how I feel, especially when I’m with you. I know we don’t know each other that well, but…the feeling I have when I’m with you is amazing. I don’t even know the words to describe what it’s like, but if I had to, I’d say my heart is having a fucking party every time you’re near, and when you’re not, well, every part of me just aches.”

Her tears fall, which causes me to well up too. “Don’t cry.” I cup her cheek with my hand, pulling her into my arms.

“I’m falling for you too, and that’s why this hurts so much—you’re leaving and I won’t see you anymore.”

I kiss her below her ear and nuzzle her neck. “I am leaving, but think of all the privacy we can have when you come to my place, even though I’ll be living with my parents. Their house is massive and they’re hardly ever home. We don’t have to hide in the closet, unless you want to, and we don’t have to sneak out into the woods to talk and kiss.” I leave a long lingering kiss on her neck. “I know you’re busy and we have a lot to learn about each other, but that’s what the weekends are for, and I can come down and see you after work. Take you to dinner, maybe even a movie.”

“That sounds nice.”

“Say you’ll come see me this weekend, that you’ll come to Los Angeles and meet my friends. Tell me you’ll come to Beverly Hills to meet my parents.”

“I know your parents.”

“Not as my girlfriend you don’t, and that’s how I want to introduce you.”

Kimberly pulls back a bit and looks me in the eyes. I love that her blue eyes match mine. “Your girlfriend?”

“Unless you don’t like the label. I can always call you ‘my babe’ or ‘my woman.’ ”

Kim starts laughing and pushes me away. “ ‘Girlfriend’ is fine. Just don’t call me ‘bae.’ ”

“Oh hell no. That word will never come out of my mouth unless I’m asking for bacon and eggs.”

I pull her back toward me and wrap my arms around her, trying to memorize the way she feels before I have to leave.

“When do you think you can come up?”

“Hmm…I can take a long weekend.”

“That’s perfect,” I tell her. “I can’t wait for you to meet Brayden and Carson.”

“I’m afraid,” she says as her hands grab my forearms.

“Of what?”

“What if I don’t fit in your life? What if the cameras hate me? Not to mention the fans.”

I angle my head to the side so I can see her and kiss her lightly on the nose. “The cameras are a nuisance; you can try wearing a hat. But they’re going to love you. The fans are what they are; Rebel created them that way, and I can’t do anything about that. But if we want privacy, we’ll stay at my parents’ or we’ll rent a hotel room and stay wrapped in each other’s arms. I’m not opposed to renting out restaurants for a little privacy either. My life is better when you’re in it, and I want a chance to explore where this could go.”

Leaning in, I kiss her again, and this time I hold on a bit longer.

“Okay,” she whispers against my lips.

“Okay?”

She nods. “I want to know you and be with you, Bodhi. I haven’t felt like this in such a long time.” She kisses me passionately, helping me forget the end of her sentence. I should ask her about her past, but I don’t want to. The important things I know or will learn when we’re blissed out of our minds in L.A.

Chapter 15

Bodhi

Freedom! That’s what I feel right now. Somehow the air seems different when I’m standing on the other side of the entrance to Serenity Springs. Deep in the back of my mind I know it’s not possible for the air to be any different, but it feels like it is.

As promised, my parents are here to pick me up. The warm embrace from both of them reminds me that they’re making a change in their lives and it’s all because of me. It sucks that it took me getting addicted to coke for this change to happen, though.

After spending my last few hours with Kimberly, sitting in the woods and talking about how things are going to be when I leave, we decided we would say goodbye out there, away from prying eyes and ears, and away from anyone who could suspect something is going on between us. Neither of us wants her to lose her job over our affair, although if she did, I’d ask her to come work as my assistant. I don’t need one, at least not at the moment, but I’d have plenty for her to do. Her main responsibility would be to never leave my side. I don’t think it’s too much to ask.

Sitting inside my dad’s car with the leather seats supporting my body should be a good thing, but it’s not, and as my hand runs over the smooth seat, I can’t quite figure out why. The car door slams, shutting me in while my parents talk to Bruce. Looking out the window, I see Kim standing by the main door, watching. Does she miss me as much as I miss her already?

Dr. Rosenberg didn’t go over how we’re supposed to feel when we leave rehab, only how we cope with our triggers and the way we should try to live. Right now I feel like I’m about to crawl out of my skin, and I can’t pinpoint why. For me it could be a combination of the unknown back in Los Angeles and the fear of leaving the security of Serenity Springs.

My life is no longer under a watchful eye and I’m not sure I’m strong enough to say no to the temptations that are going to be there no matter where I look, or don’t look. It’s part of the scene in which I live, but I don’t want to give up the group out of fear that I might relapse. My palms start to sweat, and I grab the door handle, almost ready to check myself back in.

According to Dr. Rosenberg, I’m clean, not cured. She says addicts are never fully cured; their mind and body will always remember what the drug felt like. Surprisingly, addicts almost always remember the good part of it. Not the part where you freak out in your doctor’s office because she has a ladybug picture on the wall. I shudder at the images that replay in my mind from that day. That alone should be enough to keep me clean for the rest of my life.

My parents get in the car, happy and chatting away about something that I pay no mind to. I rest my head on the window and keep my eyes on Kimberly, who is becoming nothing more than a shadow as my dad drives away. The place that I’ve called home for a month disappears as we head down the long, winding driveway, and before I realize it, we’re back in the city, buildings and people surrounding us. There are people everywhere, rushing off to someplace. It’s too much for me to take in, so I close my eyes, put my head back, and fall asleep.

“Wake up,” my mom says as she pats me on the arm. I’m groggy, slightly disoriented, and praying that the dream I had of Kimberly and me being together isn’t just a dream but my reality. I look out the window and see my parents’ massive Beverly Hills mansion.

While I was in rehab my father took the liberty of cleaning out my apartment in Los Angeles. I don’t want to know what he found in there. I wasn’t taking care of myself that last month, and Lord knows Aspen wasn’t taking care of anything.

Aspen.

I haven’t asked my dad about her, mostly because I’m afraid of what he might say. She’s a bad habit that I have to forget, but she’s part of the industry, so I’ll likely see her. And when I do, I have to be strong and remember how I feel when I’m with Kimberly. It’s Kim who needs to be my focus.

Work starts tomorrow. My saving grace is that it’ll be at my parents’ for the next month and not at our usual studio, where I know I can score some coke. I’m happy to stay away from there until I’m stronger, and honestly, I like that Brayden and Carson will be hanging out here. When we’re tired and in need of being refreshed, we can jump in the pool. Plus the ample amount of food that is always in the house doesn’t hurt.

There’s a list of things I need to do, and that starts with apologizing to my parents, Rebel, Bray, and Carson. No one should’ve had to deal with that shit from me, and they need to know that I’m sorry.

My dad tries to help me with my bag, but this time I’m an able-bodied man and I sling it over my shoulder and let my other hand rest on his as we follow my mother into the house. The delicious smell of cookies slams into me, and I know Joan has made my favorite.

“Damn, I missed Joan’s cooking.”

“Bodhi,” Joan says, coming around the corner. Joan has worked for my parents for over twenty years. “We missed you.”

“Thanks, Joan. I missed you too.” I lean down and give her a kiss on her cheek, earning a small giggle out of her.

“Let me take this to your room.” My dad tries to reach for my bag, but I shrug him off.

“I got it.”

“Are you sure, Bodhi? You just got home.” My mom rests her hand on my wrist.

I nod, but sigh. “I think I need a minute.”

I leave my parents in the foyer and head up to my old room. It’s been so long since I’ve been in that room, but I’m sure that my mother had it cleaned and refreshed. I take a deep breath and twist the doorknob. Inside, I’m pleasantly surprised to find that I feel welcome in this room. The dark blue walls I had growing up are the same, as is my comforter. Added are a few items of Virtuous Paradox memorabilia I had at my apartment.

Sitting on my bed, I feel both relief and the beginnings of anxiety. I fucked up big-time, and now I have to live with my parents. I’m too old for this shit, but there isn’t any way around it. I can’t be on my own, at least not yet. My parents are going to have expectations, though, and I don’t know if I can meet them. Hell, I don’t even know what they are yet and I’m already freaking out.

Once my clothes are unpacked, I take a seat on my bed and notice my cellphone sitting on the bedside table. I pick it up and study it like it’s a foreign object. I thought I’d miss this, my lifeline, but I didn’t. I think that’s because I had so much at Serenity Springs to occupy my time. I wasn’t bored there, and maybe that’s why the program worked for me.

“I kept it off,” my dad says from the doorway.

“Yeah. I’m kind of afraid to turn it on.”

“I don’t blame you,” he sighs as he steps in. He sits in the chair across from my bed, bringing one leg up to rest on his opposite knee. “Even though we’re going to try not to hover, you should expect a little bit of it.”

“I figured as much.”

“We know you’re an adult and have been one for some time, but we’re worried. Tomorrow you’re going to be right in the thick of it again, and that concerns us. We don’t want to see that happen to you again.”

“You know, I had a lot of time to think while I was there, and I realized that I didn’t like who I was when I was high. Still, I have a lot of things to work on, and it’s going to take some time. I need for you and Mom to be patient with me.”

“We will be, son.”

“And thank you for letting the guys come over here to rehearse.”

“No worries there, Bodhi. Everything is all set up in the rec room. Brayden and Carson are welcome here anytime. Plus your mother met Maggie one day when she came over with Brayden, and your mom fell in love with that little girl.”

Maggie is the daughter of Natalie, who is Brayden’s best friend. Natalie lives with him, but she’s not his girlfriend. Maggie’s father is Natalie’s on-again, off-again, never-dating-you-again boyfriend, who followed Natalie to Los Angeles after she followed Brayden. Their lives are like a soap opera, but Bray’s love for Natalie and Maggie is solid.

I nod. “So Bray and Carson know about my stint in rehab?”

My dad sighs and leans forward on his elbows. “They do. We had them over for dinner. I didn’t trust Rebel to tell them the truth, and I thought they’d appreciate knowing what’s going on.”

“Thank you,” I say gratefully. “Dad, really, I can’t thank you enough. I knew I had to tell them everything, but I was dreading it, and it’s a huge relief knowing that you’ve already told them most of it.”

“They were questioning why you three were going to rehearse here, and I didn’t want any rumors out there. When you’re ready to tell the public, your mother and I will be right behind you.”

I get up and pull my dad into a hug, fighting back tears. I won’t cry, at least not in front of him. Once I let go, he stands and moves toward my door. Looking back at me, he says, “I’m proud of you, Bodhi.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

As soon as my door shuts, I turn on my phone. Once the boot-up is complete, the messages come rolling in. The sheer number of notifications makes me anxious. When Aspen’s name pops up, I freeze. I still don’t know what to do about her. The obvious choice is to ignore her, but that will work only until the next industry party. My finger hovers over her name, tempted to see what she has to say, but then I see a number that I don’t recognize. I quickly fish Kim’s number out of my pocket and give a fist pump when I see they match. Her text tells me that she misses me. Instead of texting her back, I call her.

“Hello?”

“You miss me already? Was it my charming personality or my big dick?”

Kim gasps, which makes me laugh. This is who I am. I’m fun, crude, and a cocky bastard. “Bodhi, I can’t believe you said that.”

“But you’re thinking it now, aren’t you?”

She gets quiet, and I know she’s remembering our time in the closet.

“Kimberly,” I say huskily, “if it helps, I’m thinking about you and your face when I make you come. Right now it’s going to get me through the days of not seeing you.”

“I think about you too,” she says quietly. “It’s going to be a long week.”

“We’ll make the best of it, baby. I promise.”

I change the subject quickly because the sex talk is going to get me riled up and I don’t have a picture of Kim to jack off to. Having blue balls until she gets here isn’t really the type of thing I want to experience.

We stay on the phone for an hour, making plans for this weekend and promises to each other that we’re going to do everything we can to get to know each other. I add the bonus promise of me doing everything I can do to make her come, repeatedly, so that she doesn’t forget me when she has to go back to work.

Chapter 16

Kimberly

“He said what? You did what?” Daphne is yelling, with her arms waving around in the air like a crazy woman. Her wine is spilling all over my couch. Chick can’t hold her liquor.

“He asked me if I missed his dick and I told him yes,” I say, covering my face. “What the hell is wrong with me? Oh, I know,” I say, answering my own question. “I’m a whore.” I reach for my glass of wine and guzzle it down, hoping to numb my brain. I figure if it’s numb I can’t remember how utterly ridiculous I am.

“You’re not a whore, Kimmy. But now I have to know, who is this guy?”

I shake my head, unsure if I should tell her now or make her wait until my face is plastered all over Page Six after I go see him. Holding his identity close to my heart for a little while longer is a nice thought. On the other hand, she’s my best friend, and if I’m going to be dating him, they’ll likely meet.

“Have you told your father that you humped one of his patients?”

My face turns red, and I empty the wine bottle into my glass and drink it down.

“I take that as a no.”

“God, no. What am I going to do?”

Daphne falls to the couch as if she’s exasperated by my messed-up life. “Let me see if I have this correct. You have a hot man with a dick that you miss and you’re worried about your dad?”

I shake my head. “Yes and no, but more no. If I tell my dad that I’m seeing this guy, he’s going to ask how it all came about. I can’t lie to him, and once I tell him the truth, he’s going to hate me, D. He’s never going to trust me again and I’ll likely lose my job.”

She turns and faces me, taking hold of my hand. “You’re doing the cock—” She stops when she sees my mouth drop open, and then she laughs. She’s had way too much to drink. “Sorry. I mean you’re seeing the guy this weekend, right?”

“Yeah.”

“And it’s not uncommon for you to take off on weekends when you don’t have a patient. So I would just tell your dad that you ran into him over the weekend. He doesn’t have to know you’ve been having wet dreams about the guy since the day he showed up.”

I think about her suggestion and figure it’s the only one that will work. It wouldn’t be the end of the world if I lost my job, but I’d like to at least keep my father’s respect.

“Now tell me who he is.”

I bite my lip and look at her, finally sighing. “Bodhi McKnight.”

She shrieks and starts jumping up and down on my couch. Very juvenile, if you ask me.

“Holy shit, Kim. Are you fucking serious?”

“Yes, but you can’t say anything, D.”

“You fucked Bodhi McKnight?”

I nod. I haven’t told her yet about the day in the closet and my epic freak-out right afterward—I’m too embarrassed.

Daphne sits back and lets out a huge sigh. “Wow.”

“Yeah.”

“No, like really wow. Kim, you’re in a relationship with one of the hottest guys out there right now, and instead of being with him, you’re drinking cheap-ass wine with me!” She leans over and sets her hand on my forehead.

“What are you doing?” I growl, batting her hand away.

“Checking for a fever.”

I shake my head and take the empty wine bottle to my kitchen before popping the cork on another one.

“He asked me to be his girlfriend,” I say, sitting back down.

“You do know that he’s never had a serious girlfriend, right? Not even before Virtuous Paradox started. He dated, but he never called any of them his girlfriend.”

Shrugging, I pour us both some more wine. “After this week, he may change his mind about us. He lives a completely different life in Los Angeles. I don’t fit in there.”

“You must fit somewhere.”

“It’s rehab. I fear that’s our only connection.” I lean back into my couch and nurse my latest glass of wine. I want to shut my brain off, but it’s running a mile a minute with no end in sight.

“So was the sex good?”

“Daphne…”

“What? I’m your best friend and you’re dating Bodhi McKnight. Throw me a bone.”

“Ugh,” I groan. “Fine. Each time we fooled around, I was the one who came on to him. I didn’t intend to have sex with him, but he turns me on and I couldn’t stop.”

“Did you do it in the barn?”

Shaking my head, I try to hide my smile. Every time I go into the closet in my office, I can vividly recall what we did in there. “The closet,” I say, bringing my glass to my lips. Her eyes widen and she holds her hand up for a high five. I give her one.

“I’m impressed.”

“Me too. Daphne, it was so fucking hot, it would’ve been a shame to waste the mood with some heavy petting. I’ve never done anything like that before, but I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

“With Bodhi?”

I nod. “He’s dirty.”

“What do you mean?” she asks.

“He talks dirty. It turns me on. And the way he looks at me! I’m horny all the time when I’m around him.”

“Half the world is horny for him.”

“Yeah, don’t remind me.”

After Daphne falls asleep I think about calling Bodhi, but he needs his rest. What I try not to do is think about what he’s doing if he’s not sleeping. Are his friends over? Is he lying in bed watching TV? Is he thinking about me the same way I’m thinking about him?

It’s the middle of the night and I find myself sitting in front of my computer and Googling his name again. I have to know what I’m up against as far as his fans are concerned, and I realize that I could be lumped in with the crazies.

There are many fan sites dedicated to him, along with images of him with women. Lots and lots of women. I’m assuming most are from concerts and public appearances, and some I can tell are Photoshopped, but others look real. In fact, he looks like he’s enjoying himself. I remind myself that he was likely high when these were taken, so I shouldn’t worry, but I do.

Especially when I see the same woman pop up in most of the photos of him. They’re together a lot, and she’s either by his side or walking behind him. The captions call her Aspen Lawrence, and while some say she’s his girlfriend, others say that she works for him. I feel doubt start to set in. A lot of my worries are probably no different from those of anyone else entering into a new relationship, but because this relationship is with a famous man known for his looks, they feel different. I don’t know if I’m enough for Bodhi, or why he chose me.

And most importantly, did he fall for me only because we spent so much time together? I think back to his first night here, when he had his paranoid episode. He told me that he loved me, but there’s no way he meant it. I don’t believe in love at first sight. For him it was probably lust at first sight.

And it was lust at first sight for me too. I’m not gonna lie. Bodhi is walking, talking sex, and I let that get to me. I couldn’t resist him, even though I tried. I let my body dictate how I was going to react, my job be damned.

I stare at the image of Bodhi and Aspen and wonder if I have what he’s looking for in the long run. Will next week change things? Will he call me in a few days and tell me he’s busy and to come next weekend instead, only to blow me off the next time as well? I don’t have a hold on Bodhi; we barely know each other. By the looks of Aspen and the way she’s touching him, she knows him well.

Shutting off my computer, I pick up my phone and bring up the text I sent him earlier. Instead of texting, he called me back. That’s a good sign, at least in my book. But what’s he doing now? That’s what I have to know.

I’m thinking about you & hope everything is well on your first night home.

I send the text without rethinking it. I kept it professional and to the point. The dialogue bubble pops up, telling me that he’s writing back. I feel a slight sense of relief that he’s awake and not too busy to respond.

The reply includes a picture of his dick with the message We’re just in bed, thinking about you!

I can feel myself blush and I quickly turn my phone over, screen down. But a second later I turn it back over and look at the image again. It dawns on me that this is first time I’m seeing it up close.

I have a wicked thought, and text: How do I know that’s yours?

I sit back, trying not to giggle. I don’t want to wake Daphne—the last thing I feel like doing is sharing this with her, but if I wake her up by laughing, I know she’ll ask.

The next image to pop up is one of Bodhi. I sigh when I see his blue eyes looking back at me. He looks peaceful and happy, completely different from when he was first here. His hair is so much longer than when he arrived, and it sort of fans out over his pillow. And his smile…it warms my insides to see that grin beaming at me.

Does this help?

I smile to myself and text back, A little .

I’ve never gotten a text like Bodhi’s before. I guess it’s pretty normal as long as you trust the person receiving the message. My heart soars knowing Bodhi trusts me like this.

My phone vibrates and another image is there. This time my mouth is hanging open and I’m left speechless. Bodhi is standing in front of a full-length mirror with his shirt off, showing me his amazing washboard abs and his…well, let’s just say I know why I had trouble walking after we had sex.

Better?

The best. You didn’t have to do that.

I don’t want you to forget me.

That’s never going to happen.

Good. Sweet dreams, my darling. Tomorrow we’ll make plans for you to come visit.

Good night.

I hold my phone against my chest and sigh. I’ve never been one for pet names, but each time he uses a new one for me, a piece of me starts to fall for him all over again. How can someone have this much of an effect on me so quickly? When I was a teenager I hated the insta-love my friends would feel, and I often told them they were foolish. Yet here I am falling for Bodhi as if tomorrow doesn’t exist.

It’s easy to imagine that when you spend every day with the same person, you can fall in love with them. Maybe that’s what this is. But if that’s the case, what happens when we don’t see each other nearly as often?

Chapter 17

Bodhi

Waking up in my parents’ home is a peaceful experience. When I come downstairs, there’s soft music coming from somewhere in the house, and the smell of bacon and eggs greets me. My mother is out on our patio doing some sort of yoga. Seeing her like this reminds me of when I was little and I didn’t have a care in the world. It’s funny that we’re always eager to grow up but once we do, we don’t want to act like adults.

My mom must sense my presence because she turns, smiles, and waves before returning to her practice. Following my nose, I head into the kitchen to scarf down some home-cooked food. The food at Serenity Springs was okay, but it wasn’t anything to write home about.

No sooner do I sit down to eat when the doorbell rings. I wait to see if anyone from the staff will answer it, but when the sound chimes again, I reluctantly get up and make my way to the door.

I don’t mind seeing Carson and Brayden, but I’m mentally unprepared to talk with Rebel right now. Maybe she’s a trigger for all of this mess, a major reason I started snorting coke. I doubt it, but if I can lay blame, it’s going to be on her.

I open the door and extend my arm. “Welcome to chez McKnight.”

“You look better,” Rebel says as she strides past me and into the foyer. I’m getting a really weird vibe from her, something I can’t explain. I glance quickly at Bray and Carson, who are looking anywhere but at me. Fucking great—she’s here to kick me out of Virtuous Paradox for my colossal fuckup.

“Make yourselves at home.” I motion for everyone to sit down, and once they do, I grab the nearest chair and sit.

“So, you’re probably wondering why we’re here,” Rebel says.

You can say that again.

“I gave you all some time off after I realized that in my haste to get Virtuous Paradox out front I may have pushed a little too hard. Has it paid off? Yes, it has. The deals for merchandise, the tour invitations, and the requests to have you on shows have surpassed our expectations. I made stars out of the three of you.

“And now we have a lot of work to do. The label wants new music out yesterday, with a new album right after that. You’ll have appearances to make, events to attend. And, most importantly, you need to be back on top of the charts.”

As Rebel goes on, I feel my stress level rising. Maybe I’m not cut out for this industry. I’m not even twenty-four hours out of rehab and already I’m stressed out.

“You’re going to do all of this, plus try to live a normal life,” she says. Inwardly I scoff—there’s no way we can get all of that done and sleep six to eight hours a night. “The label doesn’t want any more incidents.” She looks directly at me, making sure that I know she’s referring to rehab.

“Our first order of business is to get the tracks laid down for the new song. Bodhi, I sent you the music. Did you learn it?”

I nod.

“Great. That’s the song you’ll perform at the awards show. You were each given a plus-one for that, by the way. I prefer that you don’t use it—it’s better that the women think you’re single. But if you do, make sure they’re models or something. The more photos of you out there, the better.” Rebel says a few more things before getting up and leaving the three of us in the living room. Once she’s out of sight, I breathe a sigh of relief.

My mom walks in all cheerful while the three of us look glum. If she notices, she doesn’t say anything as she makes her way to her bedroom. She probably doesn’t want to screw up her yoga high or anything with my melodramatic bullshit.

“My mom loves Maggie,” I say, breaking the ice. “Dad told me that you brought her over and my mom is smitten. I have no doubt that she’s going to be pressuring me for kids once she finds out I have a girlfriend.”

Their mouths drop open and I immediately realize my blunder. I should’ve worded things differently, but now that the cat’s out of the bag, I shrug it off.

“Details,” Carson says.

Scrubbing my hands over my face, I sigh. “I met her at rehab, which by the way, if you have questions or whatever, ask me. I’m not going to lie to you guys. I started doing coke with Aspen and couldn’t stop, but I’m clean now and want to stay clean. I like this side of me better than the asshole I was. I had tried coke before and didn’t think anything of it, so when I did it again, I couldn’t stop. Then our schedule with the group started and I was exhausted, except when I was high, I could do anything, so I kept up the habit. I needed it to deal with everything and to stay awake.”

“I’m sorry, man,” Carson says. “What can I do to help?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. Exhaustion, stress, and my desire to be the best are what led me to start. I have to watch those things. I know Rebel wants us to party and shit, but I can’t, not yet.”

“When Maggie’s around, I won’t even drink beer,” Brayden says.

I can’t help but laugh. We’re young and should be having fun, but instead we seem to have turned into a bunch of fuddy-duddies.

“Back to the woman. We want details!” Carson says.

A smile creeps onto my face. “Her name is Kimberly, and from the moment I saw her, I thought she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever met. She’s sweet, caring, and rocks my fucking world.”

“Damn, Bodhi, getting it done in rehab!” Brayden says admiringly.

I laugh but tell him, “Nah, it wasn’t like that, Bray. We have a connection. I’ve never met anyone else that I wanted to spend all my time with.”

“I’m happy for you, man,” Carson says, “but I have to ask—is it smart to get involved with someone from rehab? I mean isn’t she battling the same demons you are?”

“What? Oh, shit no. She works there. She’s like this one-on-one counselor.”

“Ooh,” they both say, showing signs of relief.

“Anyway, she has the power to destroy me and keep me clean at the same time.”

Carson sighs. “I know what you mean. My girl, the one I dated in high school, she made everything right in my world. When she bailed, I fucking fell apart. It’s been just casual sex since then, and sometimes not even on the regular.”

I find that hard to believe about Carson. Women fucking flock to him and kiss the ground he walks on.

“If she means that much to you, look her ass up. Show her what she’s missing,” I say as I get up to grab us some bottled water from the mini-fridge behind the bar. “People change when they get away from their parents.”

“Nah, I think she’s married and all that happy shit. I’m content with my music and the group here. We’re going to be busy, and the groupies will keep me entertained.”

Once again I’m shaking my head as I hand them each a bottle of water. “You don’t want to mess with those groupies. They could be married, and you don’t want to be that guy. Or they might be underage. And if you’re not double-wrapping your dick, they’ll end up pregnant.”

Brayden and Carson are laughing by the time I finish my diatribe. I realize how I must have sounded, and I start laughing too. “I’m sorry,” I chuckle, setting my bottle down. “I couldn’t help myself.”

“Don’t worry,” Carson says. “I’m not going anywhere near a groupie.”

“But seriously, if you’re looking for love or pussy, you won’t have a problem finding either one.”

“Are you saying I’m good-looking, Bodhi?” Carson winks as Brayden and I laugh.

“Yeah, man, if I swung that way, we’d be getting it on.” I wink back. “Your ex-girlfriend, though, she doesn’t know what she’s missing. I say we write a song about her and send it to her.”

“Excellent idea,” Bray adds.

Carson doesn’t say anything, but the smile on his face tells me that he’s thinking about the idea.

We sit and talk about everything: rehab, chicks, and our music. I let it spill that Kimberly gave me a guitar and tried to teach me a few chords. Carson especially likes this and promises to spend some time teaching me how to play.

Rebel reappears with a few of the musicians who play with us. She’s barking orders, and her assistant is tagging along behind her, taking notes.

“I wonder if this is a mistake,” I mutter.

“You mean having rehearsals here?” Brayden asks.

“I mean jumping right back in. My doctor spoke a lot about triggers and staying away from what pushes you over the edge.” Standing, I move toward the floor-to-ceiling windows and gaze out at the pool. “Maybe I should leave the group.”

“Are you fucking crazy?” Brayden shouts, clearly taken aback.

“You’re fucking nuts,” Carson adds.

When I turn around, both guys are standing with their hands on their hips. Their expressions tell me that I’m in deep shit for even thinking of such a thing.

“We’re in this together, Bodhi. If you go, Virtuous Paradox doesn’t exist. I’m not going to let you fall back into the drugs. I’ll do what I can to help keep you on the straight and narrow.”

Carson’s words bring tears to my eyes. I pull him into a hug.

Before long Bray starts clearing his throat loudly. “Fucker, I need a hug too,” he whines.

I flip him off, and in response he tackles me to the ground.

“Can’t hug you when you’re choking me,” I grunt. He stands and offers me his hand to help me up. Then the three of us sort of stand there looking at each other, an awkward-as-fuck silence surrounding us.

“Seriously, though, Bodhi, this shit you went through, it could’ve been any one of us. Maybe we ought to try a clean path for a while?” Brayden suggests. “With Maggie around, I should be setting a better example anyway.”

I slouch back down into the chair. “You guys gotta do what’s right for you.” I picture Kimberly sitting in my oversize chair reading a book, maybe twirling her long hair around her finger, as I read sheet music and jot down some ideas. “Having Kimberly around is a real motivator. She makes me want to be better. You guys too, of course. But it’s different when she looks at me. She sees me, not the guy on the stage.”

“I get it,” Bray says. “It’s like that with Natalie. She likes me for me.”

“Man, why don’t you just date her?” Carson asks before I can. For months Bray and Natalie have been dancing around each other—it’s obvious to me and Carson, though I guess not to the two of them.

Brayden kicks back on the couch, mindful to keep his boots off the sofa. “Nat’s just a friend, always has been. I thought about it back in college, but shit was odd. We had nothing to talk about because we know everything about each other. I want what’s best for her, and that’s not Maggie’s dad. The fucker is always in and out of their lives—it’s like a revolving door of ‘I love him, I hate him’ at my place.”

“You guys ready?” Rebel appears out of thin air interrupting us. She’s not scowling so I’m assuming the recording studio is up to her standards and will suffice until I’m ready to leave my parents’ house. For the time being, though, being here is the right thing for me. Everything I need is here, and if it’s not, my parents’ staff can easily get it for me. There are no temptations, no chance of me running into Aspen here, and the environment is safe.

It’s probably not ideal for the guys, but they seem to be okay with it. It’s a place to work, record, and relax by jumping in the pool when the day is over.

“We’ll be right there,” I say to Rebel. She looks at each one of us for a second before disappearing down the hall.

I turn to the guys. “This group means a lot to me, so anytime I’m being a douche or you suspect something is wrong, say something.”

“You got it,” they both say.

Chapter 18

Kimberly

I didn’t think I’d miss seeing Bodhi as much as I do. The feelings I have go beyond longing: my chest hurts, my mind is elsewhere and unfocused, my skin feels like a thousand needles are jabbing me at any given time, and I’m constantly hearing his voice even though I know he’s not here.

He sent me a text telling me that we’d chat later because he had to work. That was hours ago and I’m already that person who has rebooted her phone to make sure my messages are actually working because he hasn’t texted. I keep telling myself that he’ll text. He said he would, and I have to give him the benefit of the doubt. But the lingering voice in the back of my head reminds me that he’s an addict and thirty days was probably not enough for him.

Those thoughts are ones I should not have, not if I’m trying to have a relationship with this man. I should trust that he’s working and that when he’s done we’ll talk. I should be confident that he’s not going to lie or blow me off. But my confidence is wavering and I hate this feeling.

Not having a new patient to work with one-on-one isn’t helping. I spent most of my day mingling with other patients, doing arts and crafts, and checking my phone when I could. When my shift ended, I actually left work to retreat to my apartment, alone and longing for Bodhi.

As soon as I’m tucked inside my small sanctuary, I decide to call Daphne even though I want to call Bodhi. I don’t want to be that girlfriend.

“He hasn’t called,” I blurt out the second she says hello.

“Well, hello to you too, my best friend. How was your day at work? Mine was fantastic.”

Sighing, I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose. This is stupid, feeling like this. I’m a goddamn adult and shouldn’t care if he calls or not.

“Sorry, D.”

“It’s okay. Open up, though, because I’m here.” The phone disconnects and a car door slams. I rush to the door and open it, taking her bags.

“What are you doing here? This is two times in a row, and you hate coming here.”

“The asshole above me caught his damn stove on fire and the fire department showed up, which I might add was a sight to see, except they drenched the floor and now my ceiling has to be replaced, so I’m your roommate for a few weeks.”

The thought of having Daphne here both excites and disappoints me. I love my best friend, but I want to spend time with Bodhi if at all possible, and if Daphne’s here, I’ll feel obligated to stay with her. I try to smile, but I have no doubt it’s a frown.

“No worries, sunshine. If you have to go get laid, I can fend for myself.”

“Daphne!”

She shrugs as she sits down. “It was here or my mom’s, and you know I’m not going there. You don’t have to entertain me, Kimmy. I’m a big girl, plus I snagged the digits of one of the firefighters.”

“I thought you were seeing the guy from the coffee shop.” Sitting down next to her, I pull my legs in underneath me.

“Eh, there’s something about a dude who takes longer to get ready than I do that just doesn’t sit well with me.”

I stifle a laugh, trying not to embarrass her. I have a feeling Bodhi takes longer in the bathroom than I tend to, but he’s worth dating.

“Well, I’m happy you’re here.”

“I know you are. Now spill.”

I look at her questioningly, and she glares at me. It’s a stare-down, and I know I’m likely going to lose. She looks from my face down to the phone in my hand and back again.

“You’ve been waiting for him to call all day, haven’t you?”

“I have not,” I lie—unconvincingly, I might add.

Daphne throws her hands up in the air and makes some godawful noise.

“I can’t help it,” I protest. “He’s famous and I’m…I’m just me. The laws of reality dictate that we shouldn’t be together, and I can’t help but wonder if he was only with me because I was here and helped him pass the time.”

“Oh, Kimmy, why do you sell yourself short? Have you looked at yourself in the mirror? Don’t even answer that because I’m going to answer it for you. You’re beautiful, inside and out, and when we’re together every guy is always looking at you.”

“Yet you’re the one who comes away with phone numbers.”

“That’s because I always promise to bring you along!”

I roll my eyes and look down at my phone again. I’m starting to hate the thing.

“If he’s even a smidge like the way you make him sound, he’ll call. The dude is probably sleeping.”

“He’s working. At least I think he is, because that’s what he said. But how long is a work session in the music world?”

“Days.”

Great. It may be days before I hear from him again? I don’t know if I can be in a relationship like that.

—

I lie in bed, asking myself how I could be so foolish as to trust Bodhi. I should’ve known this wasn’t going to work out. He’s famous and enjoying life, while I’m here working on a ranch that treats people with addictions. I’m too plain for his lifestyle.

My eyes close and I wish for sleep. I wish for happy dreams and a tomorrow filled with sun and happiness. And when I hear my phone ring, it takes me a second to realize it’s physically ringing and not part of my subconscious.

“Hello?” I answer so quickly I don’t even glance at the caller ID.

“Hey, babe, did I wake you?”

Sitting up quickly, I smack my head against my headboard and let out a cry.

“Kimberly, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I grit out between my teeth as I rub the back of my head. “I’m fine.”

“Sorry it’s so late.”

“It’s okay.” I pause, wondering if it really is okay or if I’m just saying so because I want to hear his voice. Is this what life is going to be like, me waiting up until the early hours of the morning for a phone call?

“Actually…”

“Tell me,” he prompts.

Sighing, I open my mouth to let the word vomit destroy my life. “I’m pissed that you’ve waited until now to call me. I thought—”

“You thought what?” he interrupts. “That I was out partying?” I can hear hurt in his voice. “Listen, Kim. I’m trying here, I am. I’ve never met a woman I cared enough about to call and talk to. But you’re that woman. I have no reason to lie to you, none whatsoever. I said I’d call when I got done and I did.”

“You just got done with work?”

“Yes,” he says, sighing. “We’re rusty and shit wasn’t flowing and Rebel was getting pissed at us.”

“Rebel?”

“Our manager and producer. She’s the one who put the group together. We do what she says.”

“So you’ve been working this whole time?”

“I promise you, Kimberly.”

“God, I’m such an idiot.”

Bodhi chuckles, but it doesn’t lighten my mood. “Babe, I think you’re the sexiest chick I’ve ever met. I’m not going to fuck this up. Besides, the way you wrapped your legs around my waist so my dick could fuck you was so hot. I can’t wait for you to get up here so I can make love to you in my bed.”

I have to clear my throat and adjust the way I’m sitting. Between his smooth voice and sexual innuendos, I’m beginning to get aroused.

“What are you wearing, Kimberly?”

“Clothes.” Even as I say it I chastise myself for not giving him a sexy response. It’s clear that Bodhi has more experience than I do, but I should know better. I know how to be sexy.

“Take them off.”

I take a deep breath and do just that, setting my phone down briefly. When I pick it up again I say, “What about you? What are you wearing, Bodhi?”

Before he answers, my phone beeps, telling me that he wants to do a video call. I hesitantly press the accept button and his face fills my screen.

“Hi,” I say, taking in his beautiful blue eyes and dark hair. His chest is bare, and I can only imagine what the rest of him looks like.

“You’re beautiful,” he tells me. I know he can see my bare breasts, but somehow I don’t feel shy.

“So are you.”

“You know, this is the first time I’ve seen you naked. We’ve fucked, but I couldn’t see shit in that closet.”

“Is this awkward?”

“Fuck no,” he says, adjusting so I can see more of him. “I’m just pissed that I’m not there to suck on your tits.” With his words my nipples harden. I think about covering myself up, but think he likely can’t see them through the phone.

Bodhi suddenly moves his phone, showing me his hard-on. His hand grips his shaft and he slowly moves his hand up and down. I lick my lips in anticipation, wanting to taste him.

“All day I’ve thought about you and that sweet pussy of yours and how it tightly it grips my dick, holding me captive until I give it everything I’ve got.”

“Bodhi.” His name falls from my lips as my hand travels down my navel and in between the lips of my pussy. My clit is starting to swell and waiting for some attention.

“When I see you again, Kim, I’m going to spread you out on my bed, lick your pussy until you come all over my face, and then enter you slowly until you envelop my cock. Once my hips start moving, it’s going to be slow until you start begging me to fuck your twat harder and harder.”

My finger slips into my wet opening as I watch him stroke his dick. He jerks and his phone wobbles, but he rights it in time for me to see him come all over his stomach. I’m instantly jealous of his abs, which are getting to feel what I want from him.

“Show me your pussy,” he commands. My hand shakes as I try to hold the phone and get myself off. “Fuck that twat faster,” he says, and I do, pushing not two but three fingers into me until my walls contract over them. It’s not the same as when his cock is inside me, pulsing with me, though. That is what I need.

“Fucking hello, Kim, that was the hottest thing I’ve witnessed in a long time. I think I’m going to like this version of phone sex.”

“I want the real thing,” I pant. “I want to hold and touch you, let my tongue roam over your body until I’m taking you in my mouth. I want to feel you inside me, Bodhi.”

He groans and runs his hand over his face.

“I have an awards show coming up. Would you like to be my date?”

“I’d love to,” I say without hesitation.

“If you’re too busy to shop for an outfit I can send my mom’s personal shopper down. She can take your measurements and bring you back a whole store to try on. And you shouldn’t have to lay out the money for a dress for something I have to go to.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I know, but I want to. I want to take care of you, Kim. And not just in bed,” he says, winking. “When can I see you?”

I breathe a sigh of relief that he asked the question that was sitting on the tip of my tongue. I don’t want to be that girlfriend, the needy one, but I’m afraid I will be if I’m not careful.

“Three more days,” I tell him. “I’ll drive over after work on Thursday.”

“I’ll be waiting, but until then, let me see you play with those rocking tits you have.”

I do, and he’s clearly enjoying it. But even as I do, I realize that the hours he keeps don’t exactly work with my schedule. He’s just getting off work when I’m going to bed, and talking to him until all hours of the night will mess me up the next day. But I think he’s worth it.

Chapter 19

Bodhi

I’m trying not to count the days since I left rehab, but each one is a reminder that I’m clean and sober, albeit tired. Each day is a struggle. The stress that I was experiencing before is back with a vengeance, I’m feeling like everything I do is wrong, and the exhaustion is beginning to set in. It’s easy to see why many people relapse so quickly.

At night, when I’m done working, I spend an hour by myself in the hot tub just thinking, asking myself if this is worth it. I want to be with Kim, but it’s been almost three weeks since I’ve seen her. She was supposed to be here last weekend, and the weekend before, but she was given a new patient and her father wouldn’t let her take the time off. The phone sex just isn’t enough.

Not that I need her only for sex. I just need her, and every time our plans get canceled, I feel like I’m teetering on the edge, wondering what happens if I step to the left or right. What awaits me? I haven’t left my parents’ house since I got out of rehab and the press is camped outside our gate, screaming my name. Reports have surfaced that I’m dead, dying, been kidnapped, and, of course, in rehab. Even though they see Rebel, Brayden, and Carson going to and from the house, the reports continue.

Thing is, I haven’t wanted to go out because I’m afraid. I had planned my first outing to be with Kim, and she’s yet to arrive, so here I sit, locked in my house by my own accord, fearful of what awaits me beyond the walls of safety.

The awards show is in two days and I don’t know if Kim is coming or not. Once rehearsal ended early today, I phoned her, but she didn’t answer. That seems to be one of our problems, communication. When I’m awake, she’s asleep. When I’m starting my day, hers is half over. Our nightly chats are often cut short because she’s yawning and her head is bobbing up and down, fighting sleep. I fear it’s only a matter of time before one of us forgets to call and we think nothing of it. That’s not the type of relationship I want to have with her.

Natalie, along with Brayden and Carson, are all sitting by the pool. Maggie is learning to swim, thanks to the instructor that my mom hired. Natalie walks up and down the pool edge, talking on the phone. Brayden is encouraging Maggie, and Carson is working on his tan while I sit here feeling like a loser.

“Mr. McKnight?”

I roll my eyes, hating that I’m being referred to as that while my friends are here, but our staff is very professional when we have company. I look up at one of our housekeepers and shield my eyes from the sun.

“There’s a Kimberly Gordon at the gate, asking to speak with you.”

It takes a moment for her name to register, but once it does, I’m up out of the lounge chair like my ass is on fire.

“Let her in!”

The housekeeper scampers off while I stand on the back patio in my swim shorts staring at the door. “What the fuck?” I say, low enough for only me to hear. I search for my phone and bring it to life, seeing that I’ve missed five calls from her. “Shit,” I say, throwing it down onto the chair and taking off toward the house.

When I step into the air-conditioned house I feel chilled, but I’m too eager to see Kim to bother searching for a shirt. When I come around the corner into the foyer, the door is opening and she’s walking in. The scene is like something from a movie, with a halo of sunlight behind her and birds chirping.

In an instant she’s in my arms, and my lips are on hers as I carry her down the hall to my dad’s study. He’s out of town and my mom’s working at the studio lot, so we’ll have some privacy.

“Fuck, I’ve missed you.” The words come out between kisses. “Not to sound like a dick, but what are you doing here?”

Kim takes a half step back so she can look up at me. “I wanted to surprise you,” she says, shaking her head. “But I sorta forgot what kind of place you live in.”

“So you thought you could walk right up to the front door of Roger McKnight and Gabriela Laura’s house and ring the doorbell?”

“I don’t make a very good fan, do I?”

I shake my head and pull her back into my arms. “No, babe, you’re not a very good fan, but that’s okay, because I happen to love you.”

She steps back again and looks me in the eyes. “You love me?”

Fuck. I didn’t mean to blurt it out like that. I do love her, but shit with us has been weird. I don’t want her to think that I’m telling her this so she feels obligated.

I cup her face. “I love you, Kim. The time we’ve been apart, I’ve been craving you—your voice, your body, just your presence. The only thing that’s kept me going is knowing that you’re there waiting for me.”

Kim says nothing, but there’s a really strange expression on her face.

“What is it?” I ask, my heart beating loudly in my ears.

“The first night you were at Serenity Springs, after you had your episode, I spent the night in your room, because I didn’t want to leave you. You were talking in your sleep, and you told me that you loved me. Unless there’s another Kimberly in your life?”

So my subconscious knew all along that Kimberly was the one for me, and within hours of meeting her, no less. That seems fucking crazy, but maybe that’s why I couldn’t stay away from her and didn’t give a shit about the rules.

“No, there’s never been nor will there ever be another Kimberly in my life. Just you, babe.”

Her eyes gleam with excitement. “I love you too, Bodhi.”

The smile that spreads across my face is unstoppable. I lean down and kiss her, slow and sweet at first, but soon the passion ignites.

“Fuck, I’m hard.”

Kim’s eyes travel down to my crotch, and she lets out a slight giggle.

“You should never laugh at a man’s hard-on,” I tease. “You might give him a complex.”

“Yeah, well, I think you’re doing okay.” Kimberly trails her finger down the valley of my abs, sending chills down my spine. Her hand lingers along my waistband, teasing me. Then she pulls on the elastic and looks down inside my shorts.

I growl, biting the inside of my cheek. With the guys, Natalie, and Maggie outside, there’s no way I can take her upstairs and have my way with her. Maybe the old Bodhi would have, but not this new guy I’m trying to be.

“Kim…” Her name comes off my lips in a warning tone. She looks into my eyes and winks before letting the elastic snap back against my skin. Everything is telling me to take her now, but she deserves so much more than a fast fuck in my dad’s study. Resting my forehead against hers, I sigh and rub noses with her, trying to bring the sexual tension down a notch. But it’s not working, because her fingertips are lightly moving up and down my back and over the top of my ass.

“The guys are outside, and I’d like for you to meet them.” I want the guys to love her as much as I do, because I see her as part of my future, someone who’s going to be around a lot. She nods. Taking her hand in mine, I lead her through the house.

Kimberly stops dead in her tracks once we enter our massive living room with its floor-to-ceiling windows that look directly out onto the pool. From there you can also see the wings of our enormous U-shaped house. It’s easy for me to take this for granted since this is all I know, but I recognize how impressive it can seem at first glance.

“Bodhi, this house…” She says this as if she doesn’t live on a beautiful seven-hundred-acre ranch.

“I think I’d trade this house for your ranch any day.” I love the idea of living so far away from noise, traffic, and people. The creative juices would be able to flow in a place like that.

Her eyes wander over the artistically painted ceiling, mostly designs from my mother’s homeland, Romania. “I’ll give you a tour later,” I promise her. It’s lovely to see her excitement.

As soon as we step outside, Brayden and Carson are on their feet and coming toward us. Her hand squeezes mine and I squeeze back, reassuring her that everything is fine. No, it’s more than fine—I feel perfect right now.

“Kim Gordon, allow me to introduce you to Carson Monroe and Brayden Copeland.”

“It’s very nice to meet you both,” she says, shaking hands.

“We’ve heard a lot about you,” Carson says, giving her a wink.

“Bodhi hasn’t shut up about you since he got back. I’m happy you’re here so he can stop bitching.”

“Shut up, jerk.”

Kim’s head snaps to mine and her mouth drops open.

“What?”

“You said ‘jerk’ and not ‘fu—’ ”

I slam my hand over her mouth, much to her surprise, and pull her a step away from the guys so she can see around them. Her eyes widen when she spots Maggie in the pool.

“We try to watch what we say when Maggie is around,” I tell her as I remove my hand.

“Got it. But I didn’t think any of you had children.” Her statement catches me off guard. Why would she lump me in there? Does she truly think I wouldn’t tell her if I had a kid?

“Maggie belongs to my roommate, Natalie.” Brayden points to Natalie, who is still on her phone but has taken herself off to a corner. I frown, wishing she’d hang up and not be rude to my guest, but whatever.

“And she takes swimming lessons here,” I add. “But don’t worry, babe. Once she’s gone the f-bombs will fly.”

“And the beer will flow,” Carson adds. I didn’t want to insist that the guys hold back on their beer intake, but honestly it’s been hard for me to watch them drink while I’m staying away from the stuff. I wasn’t an alcoholic by any means, but when things were bad, booze and drugs went hand in hand, and I want to avoid the trigger. I’ve been clean for almost two months, and while that may not seem like a long time, it is for me. I can’t remember the last time I went this long without having some type of adult beverage.

“Come on, let me show you around,” I say to Kim.

“It was nice meeting you,” she says, waving as I pull her back into the house. To me she adds, “They seem nice.”

“They’re the best,” I reply.

I give her the quickest tour known to man, pausing only when we get to my bedroom door.

Opening the door, I let her walk in first. Sitting on my chair is her bag, already brought up by one of the staff.

“Bodhi, your bedroom is bigger than my apartment.” I let her walk around and explore, watching as her fingers trail over my dresser and she looks in my closet and the bathroom. Finally she comes back to find me sitting on my bed.

I beckon her with my finger, and she comes willingly. Her hands are on my shoulders and mine are on her hips pushing their way under her shirt. I lift it enough to kiss her tanned belly while her fingers move into my hair. The button on her shorts is undone with a flick of my fingers, exposing her white lace panties. I trace her hip bone with my tongue while my hands shimmy her shorts down her legs.

“Your friends are downstairs,” she whispers, as if someone can hear us. My room is at one end of the second floor, while my parents’ is at the other. So they wouldn’t be able to hear what goes on in my room, even if they were home.

“They’re always here, and they’re not going to care if I’m taking care of my girl right now.”

The next thing to go is her shirt, and the sight of her matching bra has me rubbing my palm over my growing erection. She stands back, just out of my reach, and unclasps her bra. The fabric dangles there, teasing the fuck out of me. I swallow hard, waiting for her to show herself to me. Her arms fall, along with her bra, and the cool air causes her nipples to peak.

Kim bends, pushing her panties to the floor. I stand and match her, dropping my swim trunks and kicking them away. I feel like I’m a teen again and about to have sex for the first time. We stand here, naked, taking each other in.

“Your pictures don’t do you justice,” she says as she steps closer, trailing her fingers over my chest and creating a maze that only she knows the exit to.

“You’re the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.” I sit down and pull her to me so she’s straddling me. My cock jumps for joy, eager to be inside her.

“Are you sure your friends won’t mind?”

I shake my head. Even if they do, we’re not getting dressed now.

Kimberly leans back into my arms, allowing my dick to move into position. I look down in awe as it disappears inside her.

“Motherfucker, that’s hot. You’re so tight.”

“Yeah,” she says as she starts moving her hips with the guidance of my hands. “God, I can feel you in places I’ve never felt before.”

She picks up momentum, rocking faster against me. Her soft cries and moans are making me harder, if that’s at all possible. I can’t take my eyes off her, enjoying the way her face morphs with pleasure. Kimberly is doing all the work, using me to get off, and I’m loving every minute of it.

“I’m going to come, Kimberly.”

“Me too.”

I bite down on her shoulder, hoping to hang on a bit longer. “No condom,” I whisper into her ear. If she cares, she doesn’t show it. Her nails dig into my shoulders and her whimpers grow louder. The frantic movement of her hips lets me know she’s close.

“Let me help you.” I massage her clit vigorously, pushing her over the edge. “Oh, fuck,” I yell out, grabbing her hips and thrusting into her as I find my release.

We collapse in each other’s arms, our hearts pounding and our breathing labored.

“Did I tell you that I’m happy you’re here?” I ask, kissing her neck.

“No, but I think you showed me.”

I can’t help but laugh. “I love you.”

“I love you, Bodhi.”

Silence falls upon us as we hold each other. There are small kisses here and there, but nothing more. This is what I needed. I needed her here and in my arms to complete me. To make me feel like I’m on the right path.

Chapter 20

Bodhi

Waking up with Kim in my arms surpasses anything I’d ever expected. Yesterday after she made love to me, we went down to hang out by the pool. Natalie was finally off the phone, and those two chatted like crazy about lots of things that didn’t interest me. But I didn’t care. I was happy watching her from afar, knowing that she was in my home and had come to see me.

For dinner, we joined my mother and sat around the dining room table while they chatted about more girly shit. That didn’t matter, though, because both the women in my life were happy, and I got to take a small part of the credit for that.

Now I’m struggling, though. Curled up in my bed, Kimberly looks so peaceful, but I have to go to work. I could let her sleep, knowing that when she wakes up she’ll be well taken care of by the staff, but thinking about her and wondering what she’s doing will mean that my mind will be focused on her and not on rehearsing. The only option, I decide, is to take her with me.

I pepper with her kisses, causing her to squirm in her sleep. I laugh and keep at it until she wakes up.

“I have to go to work.”

“You work at the other end of the house. It’s not like you’re leaving.”

“You’re coming with me.”

“Ugh,” she groans into the pillow. “I’m on vacation.”

“Yep, and you can come to rehearsal. Please, baby.” I rub up against her, giving her a feel of what I’ll give her in return.

“Fine,” she huffs, throwing the blanket off. She’s naked and looks completely ravishing. Also a little tired—after dinner, we feasted on each other until we were both so sated that we couldn’t move. I had a lot to make up for, not to mention remind her of what she’ll be missing when she goes home.

After Kim showers, she runs into my mom, and I have to drag her to rehearsal. My mom wants Kim to stay with her and wait for me, but I don’t want to let her out of my sight. I know that seems possessive and probably unhealthy, but she’s here for only the weekend, and that’s not enough time for me to get my fill of her.

Rebel is none too happy when we walk in and I introduce her to Kim, but I don’t care. As we get set up, I can’t help noticing the daggers Rebel is tossing her way when she’s not looking. I don’t get it. Natalie has been to rehearsals before. Hell, from time to time Bray has had to leave to pick up Maggie. It’s not like Kim is going to disturb us or make us lose our concentration. She’s there to give me peace of mind and to keep me focused. She’s my reward for hard work, proving that it does pay off.

We go over the lyrics and the dance moves. The makeshift studio doesn’t have enough room for us to spread out, which can be good or bad. The stage we’ll be performing on isn’t exactly square, so we’ll be dealing with limitations anyway. And tomorrow we’ll have a rehearsal at the venue to get our timing right.

Every so often I feel Rebel’s eyes on me. For all I know she’s waiting for me to screw up or fall off the wagon so she can nail my ass to the wall. It’s not going to happen, not if I have any say about it. The hottie in the corner who has her face buried in a book is not worth losing just to feel high again. I have no doubt Kim would tell me to take a flying fuck if I were to snort coke again. And I’d deserve it.

As we continue to go over the lyrics, I remind myself that one of the things on my recovery list is to seek out a voice coach. I want to be better. I want to be someone that the guys can put faith in and who they know won’t let them down. Right now it’s mostly Carson who does the singing, with Brayden having a role. I’m relegated to backup for the time being.

By the time we’re finished, it’s well after dinner and I catch Kimberly yawning.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” I say, brushing some hair out of her face as I kneel in front of her. She smiles softly, causing my dick to perk up.

“Hey, Bodhi, do you guys want to grab dinner?” Carson asks as he walks by. I look at him over my shoulder and shrug.

“Nah, I think we’ll stay in.” The thought of leaving the house with her is something I’m not ready for. I want to keep her to myself a bit longer. Tomorrow she’ll be hitting Rodeo Drive with my mother, and I’d rather have her experience that in relative peace before she’s seen with me. “You can stay here if you want. We can probably grill if you’re up for it.”

“Cool. I’ll be back in a bit.” I watch him leave, along with the other guys who are all part of making Virtuous Paradox work.

Brayden and Rebel are in the corner having a heated discussion. I frown at the thought that there’s discord among any of us, especially considering that I fucked up royally and will be paying the price for a long time.

It could be that Rebel isn’t a good match for us and maybe we need to find a new manager. The thought makes my stomach turn, not only because of the legalities of contracts and all that but also because if she’s feeling vengeful she could destroy us.

I turn back to Kimberly. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to ignore you for the last hour. We just had to get that last bit down.”

“It’s fine, Bodhi. You look tired.” She runs her fingers over the worry lines in my face. I am tired, but not because of work. I wasn’t exactly smart with my time last night. There were more important things to do than sleep once we went to bed.

I take her hand in mine and lead her out of the studio.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“You can ask me anything,” I tell her as we enter my room.

“You’re done working and it’s only six. How come when I wasn’t here you wouldn’t call me until after eleven?”

Pulling off my shirt, I toss it onto the ground and stalk toward her, picking her up, much to her delight, and taking her to the bathroom. I set her down only long enough to turn on the shower before I start undressing her.

“Rehearsal usually goes that late. But we have the show tomorrow night and we can’t look haggard on television. We need beauty sleep.”

She gives me a wry smile. “Maybe we should have gotten a little more sleep last night.”

I motion for her to get into the shower. “It was worth it, so don’t even think otherwise.”

She steps into the shower, letting the water cascade over her. Under the spray we kiss and fondle each other until I’m resting on my knees.

“I can’t get enough of you.” She spreads her legs and allows me to hook one over my shoulder as she leans against the tiled wall.

The first swipe of my tongue against her pussy sends shivers down my spine. Her fingers grab hold of my hair and pull, spurring me on. She’s a little vixen and doesn’t even realize it. And I love that she is free with her body, giving in to temptation and desire when she’s near me.

I softly nip at her bud while slowly giving her my fingers to ride, watching as she grinds against my hand and face.

“Do you like that?”

“Your stubble drives me crazy.”

“Do you want me to shave?”

“Fuck no,” she says, pushing her pussy back to my face. I take her command and work her over, lapping up her juices as she comes for me. Setting her trembling leg down, I stand and kiss her with all my heart. There is no doubt in my mind that I’m in love with this woman, and I know that she loves me back. I’m praying that it’s enough—enough to keep me out of harm’s way and do right by her. Because the last thing I want to do is let her down in any way.

By the time we’re done showering and dressing, the gang is at my house. When Kim and I come downstairs, my mom is entertaining the crew and looking like she’s having the time of her life. That sight alone makes me happy. Seeing her smile means the world to me.

We join the group and hugs are given as if we haven’t seen each other for days and not an hour or so. This is how Virtuous Paradox used to be until I fucked it up. Once I started using, Aspen was my only concern. All I wanted to do was spend time with her and no one else.

I decide to help our chef with dinner by throwing the steaks, chicken, and corn on the cob onto the grill. He frowns at me and slowly takes over, pushing me out of the way. I can’t cook worth shit, but I’m a self-proclaimed grill master.

At the sound of squealing, I turn around to find Brayden with Natalie and Maggie in his arms as he jumps into the pool. Everyone is laughing, and my mom is reminding him that Maggie can’t swim yet.

Kimberly comes to stand next to me and hands me a glass of iced tea. “Your mom says you like this.”

“I do, thank you.” I lean down and give her a quick kiss.

“Your mom is really nice.”

“My mom thinks you walk on water. I bet you’ll have fun tomorrow when you and Natalie go shopping with her.”

Kim’s eyes light up, but then she bites her lip. “I have to admit, I’m a bit scared.”

“Don’t be. You’re going to be treated like royalty, and my mom…well, she’s always wanted a daughter.” I shrug and sip my iced tea.

Kim takes me by the hand and leads me over to a lounge chair, pulling me down next to her so we’re sitting together. I like this, being able to hold her.

“How long have Brayden and Natalie been dating? I’ve never read anything about them.”

“They’re not, that’s why. She’s his best friend and he swears that’s all they’ll ever be. He helps take care of Maggie because her dad is in and out of her life.”

“That’s too bad.”

“It is, but my parents love Maggie. She’s living the life right now. And if I’m not mistaken, she has a bedroom here.”

Kimberly watches everyone for a bit, including my mom, who is now in the pool playing with Maggie. “She wants grandchildren.”

“Don’t I know it.” I purposely look away from Kim, afraid of what her reaction might be. We’re not even a full month into dating, and I don’t want to scare her off with talk of kids. Besides, I’m nowhere near ready to be a dad. I can’t take care of myself, let alone be responsible for someone. Having Maggie around is enough for me. I can admire from afar, buy presents when it’s her birthday, and watch her leave with her mother. It’s a win-win for a guy such as myself.

Kim shifts slightly away from me and I don’t like it. I don’t want her to think children aren’t something I want. They are, just not now or in the next few months. Pulling her into my arms, I kiss her below her ear, nuzzling her there until she leans into me.

“Do you want to go swimming?”

“I didn’t bring my suit.”

“My mom has a whole shit-ton of swimsuits in the pool house. Designers send her so much crap it’s not even funny. Want to see if you can find one you like?”

She nods and reaches for my hand. “We’ll be right back,” I tell everyone as we make our way into the pool house to change.

Carson and Brayden catcall from the pool, yelling that they hope we don’t take too long. I flip them off, only for my mother to chastise me. She thinks Maggie never hears any bad words or sees anything that might damage her young mind, and as much as we try to protect her from our foul language, her father is no shining example.

Chapter 21

Kimberly

I’m exhausted, and it’s from a lack of sleep. It’s clear to me how and why Bodhi became hooked on coke. Coke keeps you awake, and in his life, being awake is almost demanded of you. I don’t know what I expected when I came up here, but this wasn’t it. Maybe I’m the romantic type, the rainbows-and-unicorns type. Or maybe I’m just blinded by the world I live in, which has structure and routine. Bodhi’s life is anything but.

Gabriela told me we’d leave to go shopping shortly after ten, and when the alarm on my phone went off a little before nine, I continued to hit snooze until I was at the point where I had to get up or cancel my plans with her. Canceling meant I wouldn’t be able to attend the awards show later because I wouldn’t have a dress, and I didn’t want to do that to Bodhi.

What shocked me the most is that as many times as my alarm went off, Bodhi slept through it. I know part of a cocaine addiction means you sleep less, but I would’ve thought he caught up on his sleep while staying at Serenity Springs. Even as I slipped out of bed, he didn’t budge. And as I watched him sleep, the thought of crawling back into bed with him was tempting. But tonight is important to him, and the last thing I want to do is let him down.

Coming down the wide and long staircase, I imagine what the house must look like when it’s decorated for Christmas. I can see garland with white lights and red bows wrapped around the banister to go along with the smell of freshly baked cookies and carols playing from the living room.

Even though Bodhi has given me the tour, I can find my way to only his room and back down to the kitchen and living room. We haven’t spent much time on the other side of the house, where there’s a library, a home theater, a gym, and his parents’ room. He did show me where Susan will live when she checks out of rehab. It’s a cute two-bedroom apartment attached to the house, and she’ll have access to the pool, along with her own private entrance. The apartment is in the process of getting a makeover in hopes that Susan’s children will be coming to visit.

Children…yesterday I was such a fool to bring up kids. I don’t know what I was thinking, but I could tell that Bodhi didn’t want to talk about the subject. I don’t blame him. I don’t particularly want to talk about it either, but it’s something I think about often. I had a stupid plan when I was in college that I’d be married and starting a family by twenty-five. I wanted to be a young mother, but that plan is quickly falling by the wayside. “Dirty thirty” is looming, and I’m in love with a musician who doesn’t seem ready to settle down.

When I reach the bottom step, I turn and take in the grand staircases. There are two, one on each side of the foyer, and I imagine myself walking down the steps in my wedding dress and meeting my dad here. It’s a fairy tale, I know, and one that I’ll keep to myself, at least until I tell Daphne how crazy I’m acting.

Gabriela calls my name, grabbing my attention. I blush, because her smile tells me she’s caught me daydreaming. Does she imagine it too, her son getting married in their home and the bride walking down the stairs? Their house is perfect for an intimate gathering, and I have no doubt it would be decorated beautifully.

“Are you ready?” she asks. Her Romanian accent is light but there. It couldn’t have been easy for her to come to the United States at such a young age and be thrust into the spotlight. She married Roger when they were both young, and by all accounts they’re extremely happy. It’s something to strive for.

“I am.”

I follow her out and into the waiting car. I half expect to see Natalie already inside, but she’s not.

“Isn’t Natalie coming?”

“She’ll meet us there,” she says as we climb in. Once the door shuts, Gabriela hands me a champagne glass of orange juice. “To our first women’s day.” We tap glasses and drink, and it’s only then that I find out it’s not just orange juice.

“Whoa, I wasn’t expecting that.” I smack my lips, enjoying the taste, and decide to finish it off. I’m not working, nor do I have to drive anywhere, so I might as well enjoy myself. Gabriela does the same, then makes us another round of mimosas.

Our car ride is short considering that the McKnights live only a few blocks from Rodeo Drive. We could’ve walked, but that’s probably out of the question for someone like Gabriela.

The driver lets her out first and the frenzy is almost instant. Someone yells her name, but she ignores them as she reaches for my hand. My foot touches the cobblestone street, and I climb out. I’m so surprised at how small Rodeo Drive truly is. In all the movies, it’s so much grander.

We walk into a store and find Natalie waiting for us. She meets us with another glass, but this time it’s only champagne. I fear by the time the event happens, I’ll be drunk and unable to support Bodhi in his first public appearance since leaving rehab.

In a flash, Natalie and I are whisked away to the dressing rooms with an assortment of dresses. We’re shown everything from elegant to trendy to downright risqué. Gabriela insists that we try everything on, and with each dress comes another glass of champagne.

Food is catered for us throughout the morning; we’re pampered, treated like royalty, and given everything we ask for. I finally narrow it down to three dresses and am having a hard time deciding. I know which one Gabriela likes, but I’m not sure if the formal, elegant look is right for tonight.

I pull out my phone and call Bodhi, but by the fourth ring I’m losing hope he’s going to answer.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, out of breath.

“Nothing, I—”

“I’m in the middle of rehearsal, Kim.”

Bodhi is short with me, catching me off guard. I don’t know what to say and my thoughts fumble. “Never mind,” I say, pressing end to disconnect the call. The feeling of tears is instant, and I do everything I can to fight them off. The last thing I want is for his mom to see me crying and ask me what’s wrong.

He calls me back immediately, but I ignore the call. I don’t have anything to say to him right now. Instead, I call Daphne to ask for her opinion.

“Hi,” I whisper, trying to keep my voice down.

“Why are you whispering?”

“Because I’m in a dressing room and Bodhi’s very famous mother is on the other side of the door waiting for me to decide which dress I want for tonight and I tried to call him to see if there’s a theme or a vibe but he’s busy.”

“He’s too busy for you?” I can hear the sarcasm in her voice, and I don’t like it.

“What does the newly labeled girlfriend of Bodhi McKnight wear to an event like this?” I tell Daphne my options, and she asks me to try each one on and send her a picture of each, which I do.

“Definitely the short one.”

“Are you sure?”

“Hell yes, with heels. Just don’t make yourself taller than him.”

I stare at the short black dress and wonder if she’s right. “Okay,” I concede, and promise to call her later. I come out of the dressing room with my choice hanging in front of me and can tell it’s not Gabriela’s favorite, but it is Natalie’s.

“Bodhi is going to flip out when he sees you in that dress,” Natalie says.

“I hope so.” Right now I’m not so sure. His brusque answer when I called has me second-guessing a lot of things right now. Which is crazy, I know. It’s just that I feel so insecure in his world, like I don’t belong or can’t compete with the onslaught of women who are vying for his attention. It doesn’t matter how many times I tell myself that he chose me; it doesn’t quell the nagging voice in the back of my head telling me that there are others out there waiting to pounce on him. Waiting for their moment to shine in his arms.

The car is there for us when we exit the store. The driver takes our bags and makes sure we’re settled before he shuts the door. Once again we’re treated to more champagne, and I’m feeling both a slight buzz and a recently developed headache. I thank Gabriela for the shopping trip, and she tells me with a smile that I’m very welcome.

We drive about two blocks and stop. The same routine happens, with more fans yelling out her name. She doesn’t pay them any mind as we enter a salon. Just like at the boutique, we get food, drinks, and even more pampering.

Our hair is done, manicure and pedicures complete, and makeup painted on to perfection. Never in my life have I done something like this.

“Let me see you,” Gabriela says, spinning my chair toward her. “Simply beautiful. Bodhi better shave if he wants to have his picture taken next to you tonight.” She winks, and my heart plunges. He can’t shave! I absolutely adore his stubble.

“Thank you.”

“Why don’t you and Natalie try on your dresses? Let’s make sure your hair is perfect.”

And just like that, the driver appears with our dresses. We’re ushered into the back room, where we change.

“I don’t think Gabriela likes my dress,” I whisper to Natalie.

“She probably doesn’t like the idea that it’s so short. I’m sure she’s thinking about her son and his less-than-clean mind.”

Looking at myself in the mirror with my heels on and my hair and makeup done, I can sort of understand his mother’s point of view. The dress is short and the heels accentuate my legs. Knowing Bodhi, he’s going to have trouble keeping his hands off me.

“You look hot, Kim.”

“Thanks. So do you.” Natalie is dressed in a pink off-the-shoulder dress that stops at her knees. Mine barely covers my ass.

“You’ll turn a lot of heads tonight. Be prepared,” she tells me. I’m not sure what that means, and before I can ask her, she’s out of the room. I follow quickly behind, and when I emerge, I hear a few gasps. I seek out Gabriela, hoping for her approval. The smile on her face tells me that she’s no longer upset by my choice of dress. Now here’s hoping that Bodhi likes it.

It’s midafternoon by the time we’re done and pulling into the driveway of the McKnight mansion. The only thing I want to do is take a nap, but I can’t. Another instance that proves how easy it is to choose a stimulant drug in this industry. I never thought shopping on Rodeo Drive would be so tiring, but I was sorely mistaken. Between the drinks, the food, and the constant changing, I could sleep for the next eight hours. But Gabriela and Natalie look fresh and ready to go.

I’m relieved once we step inside the house, but nervous as well. I’m still feeling uneasy about my phone call with Bodhi earlier and honestly don’t know how to proceed. Musicians are temperamental to begin with, but add in the recent stint at rehab and the possibility of a trigger and I might see a different side of Bodhi than I have so far. I don’t want to ruin his night, but I also don’t want to be on the receiving end of a negative attitude. If my being here is bothersome, he just has to tell me and I’ll go.

“Bodhi,” I call as I enter his room.

He comes out of the bathroom, fresh out of the shower.

“Hi. Did you have fun?” He doesn’t smile or come over to greet me.

I nod, biting the inside of my cheek to prevent myself from crying.

“Are you happy with what you chose?”

“Yeah.”

“Your hair looks pretty.”

“Thanks,” I say, and excuse myself so I can go get dressed. In the bathroom, I stand in front of the mirror and tell myself that he loves me, despite his attitude right now.

When I come out of the bathroom I know I chose the right dress. Bodhi is slipping on his watch and is dressed in distressed jeans, combat boots, and a formfitting shirt. I’m reminded of my comment back at Serenity Springs about how he sometimes looks like James Dean.

“Bodhi, you look…I’m not sure I know the right word. ‘Sexy’ and ‘hot’ seem like an understatement. I’m glad you’re not wearing a tuxedo, because I’d feel underdressed,” I say, breaking the ice.

“I’ll take that as a compliment, but holy fuck,” he says once he takes a look at me. “Turn around.”

I twirl to show off the back of the dress, and startle a bit when his hand lands on my ass.

“Jesus Christ, Kim, are you trying to kill me?” he asks with a grin, letting his hand slip under my dress and over my bare ass until he’s grazing my core. His other hand pulls me back as he grinds his already hard dick into me. This wasn’t what I was going for, but I’m ecstatic about his reaction.

“I bet my mom flipped when she saw this.”

“What makes you say that?” I ask as I turn around in his arms.

“Hmm,” he says, kissing my bare shoulder. “It’s short, sexy as fuck, and showing your shoulders. She likes to think of me as a kid sometimes and is probably wondering what the hell we’re doing up here.”

“What are we doing, Bodhi?”

He steps back and appraises me for a moment. “Well, we’re not fucking, but the only reason is because we have this stupid awards thing to go to.”

I decide to take a chance. “You scared me earlier, the way you spoke to me.”

Bodhi steps away, running his hand through his hair. It’s perfectly styled to match his outfit.

“Stress, Kim. Rebel was on my ass, and I took it out on you. I’m sorry.”

All I hear is trigger.

“You’re sure I’m not in the way?”

His fiery eyes meet mine, and he stalks over to me, reaching out to clasp my arms firmly. “Don’t ever think that. You being here has kept me grounded. Knowing that you’re here with me keeps me solid, Kimberly. I need you.”

“I need you too.”

He takes my words wrong and waggles his eyebrows at me. “You know, if you bend over, I can fuck you and not even mess up your hair.”

The thought excites me, but before I can answer, one of the staff calls him over the intercom, telling us that the car is here. He takes my hands in his and gives me a once-over. “Fucking killing me, Ms. Gordon. My dick is hurting already.”

Chapter 22

Bodhi

Word must’ve traveled fast that my mother was seen today with someone who might possibly be my girlfriend, because as soon as we step out of the house the paparazzi are yelling my name and saying, “There she is.” The gate keeps them off the property, but they’re still close enough for us to hear and see, and they get the shot they need, which is me walking Kimberly to the car with my hand on her back.

“Bodhi, new fling?” one of the paparazzi says before we enter the car. This makes Kim’s step falter, and I almost trip over her.

“Keep moving forward,” I say to Kim. She does and reaches for my hand as she’s about to step into the car. From my vantage point I can see just enough of her ass, and while the thought appeals to me, it also puts me on high alert. I’m going to have to keep her away from the fuckheads tonight, and I wasn’t planning on having to do that.

The car takes off, and the paparazzi rush up to the windows in hopes of getting a picture. I sort of like the attention, especially because it means the world will know that I’m off the market. Kim’s hand travels up my leg absentmindedly, causing my dick to strain against the buttons of my jeans. I take hold of her hand and place it on my crotch, getting her attention.

“Bodhi!”

“What?” I shrug and raise the privacy panel between us and the driver. “He can’t hear or see anything. Not to mention he works for my parents, so he won’t say anything. We could fuck in the car and he wouldn’t even know.”

Never in my life have I seen someone as beautiful as Kimberly or been so aroused by a woman’s mere presence. She could wear a garbage bag as a dress and I’d find it sexy. Her short dress is molded to every curve of her body; her blond hair is curled to perfection and resting on her shoulders. I want to say fuck it and take her right now, but I don’t think she trusts that no one will see us. It’d be so easy to whip my dick out and have her sit on me. Fuck, even thinking about it has me engorged and needing a release.

My hand squeezes hers as the car turns the corner in front of the venue and the fans start screaming. They have no idea who is in the car, but they don’t care. It’s someone they want to see. Our car is in front and in the one behind are Brayden and Carson. I had requested that Kimberly and I arrive in a separate car, rather than with the two of them; Rebel was clearly displeased, but the guys didn’t care.

As we file out of the car, the deafening screams pierce our ears. I hold on to Kim’s hand tightly as I wave to the crowd. It’s in this moment that I make my move. That I show her and everyone who is watching that I’m off the market.

Cupping her cheek with my free hand, I lean in and kiss her. The noise level is not lost on me. Before I pull away, I rest my forehead on hers.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” I tell her, meeting her gaze. “You have no idea what this dress, your hair, and your perfume are doing to me, but know this, Kimberly—I’m so in love with you.”

“I love you too. Now go to your fans before they maim me.”

I look her over once more and shake my head. “You and me, in that car after the show, whether you like it or not.”

“Is that a promise?”

I groan before saying, “Over and over again.” I take her over to the bodyguard we’ve arranged for; she and Natalie will stay near him while we sign autographs. When we’re on the red carpet, she’ll be right behind me, never out of my reach.

Questions from fans are thrown at us, all personal, which we don’t answer. We smile and ignore them, doing exactly what Rebel taught us. The three of us work the crowd like magicians. We pose for selfies, sign posters and pictures from magazines and random pieces of paper. Every now and again I look over my shoulder at Kimberly, and out of the corner of my eye I catch Rebel watching me carefully. I know bringing Kim isn’t what Rebel wanted, but it’s what I need. When I’m with Kimberly, I don’t worry about how I’m going to get through the day, or feel the need to numb myself. She makes me want to feel and experience with a clean and sober body what this opportunity is giving me. This is the first time I’ve done this fan thing with Virtuous Paradox without being high, and I have to say it feels pretty damn good.

The next set of stars arrives and the crowd goes crazy. When we get to the end of the barricades keeping the fans back, we go back to where Rebel is standing and follow her across the street. I hold Kim’s hand and tug her along behind me until it’s time for us to pose for pictures on the red carpet. There are a few taken with Kim, but most are done with just the three of us.

The publicist works the lines, securing us interviews while we pose for photos. They want us together, Brayden, Carson, and me, but also each of us by ourselves. I catch a glimpse of Kim and Natalie with bright, excited faces as they covertly point out some of the biggest stars in music and film. It’s endearing, but something she’ll get used to.

“Seems like the hype hasn’t died down and everyone still thinks we’re hot,” I yell over the noise into Rebel’s ear while she smiles at someone shouting her name. It’s crazy that she’s just as popular as we are, if not more. Musicians beg for her representation. And to think I almost threw it all away. She was afraid that if two months went by without the three of us being seen together, we’d damage our status with the fans. Boy, was she mistaken. Absence makes the heart grow fonder.

“That’s because you are. Check your ego at the door, McKnight, and remember you were chosen because of your looks. Everyone will remember what you wore and how you walked the red carpet, so keep smiling and selling yourself with those baby blues. But don’t forget how little you cared about your appearance a few months back. These fans deserve what they’re seeing now, not that shit we had to look at. Tomorrow morning your faces will be all over the front pages of every celebrity magazine and website, commenting on your style.”

She moves away to greet the woman who is calling her name, leaving me stunned by what she said. I study them for a moment, watching as they kiss each other on the cheek and lightly hold on to each other’s arm while they chat. I feel a hand slide into mine and turn to find Kimberly next to me.

“Are you doing okay?”

I know she’s asking about my mental state right now. Is this a trigger? Do I want to run and find the nearest dealer? It wouldn’t be hard to find one if I wanted to, but I don’t. I feel great, exhilarated even.

I pull her close, cupping her cheek again. There’s no mistaking the frantic clicking noise as the cameras go off. I’m giving them an image they can sell ten times over, but for Kimberly and me, I’m giving us confirmation that we’re a couple.

“With you here,” I tell her, “I’m on top of the world.”

Before I can make any other declarations of love, I’m pulled away to do interviews. I’ve given them something to ask about aside from music and my parents.

“Bodhi, who’s your date?”

“Bodhi, when’s the wedding?”

“Bodhi, how long have you been together?”

Each question gets ignored, as the publicist yells, “Next question.” I don’t mind sharing Kimberly with the world, but the world needs to be patient. I wish I could keep her to myself a little bit longer before the tabloids start following her around. I’m a realist, though. I’m aware that by the end of the night people will know who she is.

We make our way down the carpet and into the venue. Kimberly and our bodyguard are hot on our heels as we’re ushered into a greenroom. When I step in, I see a woman with long blond hair and for a moment think it’s Aspen. Everything comes rushing back to me, throwing me off balance: the lines of coke I snorted off her body, the partying, and the subsequent feeding of my addiction.

“Are you okay?” both Rebel and Kimberly ask, each of them grabbing one of my arms.

“Yeah,” I say, shaking my head. I don’t want to tell them that I thought I saw Aspen. That I was remembering the night when it all started. I think that would hurt Kim, and I don’t want to do that. Those memories should be tucked away and stay there.

The bustle around us is furious. Wardrobe and makeup are in the same greenroom. Commands are being hollered out and we’re being directed to stand here, sit here, put this on, and mike up. There’s a pounding on the door, someone yelling out that we have five minutes.

Rebel gathers us in a circle, our arms wrapped around each other. “This moment is yours. Show them all that Virtuous Paradox is here to stay. Go out there and shine. Work that crowd and entertain them.” Then she lets us go and motions for us to head toward the stage. We’re the opening act. I’ll never know how she scored the coveted spot for us, but if we can pull it off, I’ll be forever grateful.

Everything moves in a rush backstage. A few people with clipboards and headsets are whizzing past us, trying to get to their talent; others are barking orders into their headsets, and the rest seem to be bossing everyone else around. You would think this is the first time anyone’s ever done an awards show; it’s not, but the chaos will always remain, no matter how many times they’ve been through this.

The three of us stand in position onstage, with our matching black jeans and white shirts that probably cost a fortune. Carson is in the middle, with Brayden on his right. Our heads are down, legs slightly apart. We can hear the emcee in our earpieces as he introduces us. The crowd starts to cheer, and as the curtain rises they get louder, their chants and screaming sending shock waves down my spine. It’s different now that I’m not in the haze of being high. Their energy is enough to feed me; it’s not fake or induced by my own stupidity.

We wait until the music starts and the spotlight shines on the three of us. It’s only then do we move. We bounce, kick, turn, and gyrate to the music, working our way to the center of the stage, almost close enough to the front for the female members of the audience sitting right down front to touch us. I wink at one who catches my eye before I deliver my verses. I love this. I love the way I feel.

Each move is calculated to go with the music and the lyrics. Our routine tells the story of love, sex, and devotion as Carson, Bray, and I move around each other in sync. There are no miscues or stumbles. We flow just like I knew we would when I proposed the idea to Rebel all those months ago.

Our song finishes and the crowd is on their feet. We stand in the center with our hands clasped and arms raised as we take a bow before exiting. Rebel is there to meet us, but there’s no smile on her face.

“What’s wrong?” Brayden asks.

“Nothing,” she says, shaking her head. “It was good, but I want better. I want you guys to be so sought after that we’re turning away offers. We have a lot of work to do. This is just the beginning.”

“When is it the middle?” I stupidly ask. The look on her face tells me that she’s not happy with me. I get it, but I want to know when we reach the middle. Every time we turn around, it seems, Rebel’s telling us it’s only the beginning. At what point does that change? We’ve already had sold-out shows, and our faces are everywhere. What else do we have to do to prove that we’re here and that we have staying power?

“It’s the middle when I say it’s the middle. Your performance was good, not great. We need better,” she says, pointing at each of us in turn while the others backstage look on. “If you want stardom, you’re going to have to work.” She walks away from us, leaving us speechless. I don’t think it’s too much to ask for her to give us a compliment, tell us that we did a good job—hell, maybe even pat us on the back.

“What crawled into her earpiece and bit her?” Carson asks as we watch her walk away.

None of us know, and the people who saw her lecturing us are whispering. I’m trying not to look, but I can’t help it.

Just then a man I don’t know approaches us. “I saw your performance. It was great,” he says. “What Van Zandt said is bullshit. You’re new and the hard work you’ve put in is evident in your performance. If you ever want to work with a real manager, give me a call.”

He doesn’t introduce himself, leaving only his business card in our hands. When he turns away from us I let mine drop to the ground. I’m in no position to seek out a different manager.

We head back to the greenroom. I’m expecting Rebel to be there, but she’s not. Kimberly and Natalie are, and they look like they’re involved in a very serious conversation. They both smile and stand when we walk in, with Kimberly coming over to greet me with a sweet kiss.

“You were great.”

I shake my head, Rebel’s words still plaguing me. Maybe I’m a better performer when I’m high and just going through the motions. That’s not something I’m willing to consider, though, because right now I have too much to lose. I know Brayden and Carson care about me, but they’re also watching me carefully, waiting for signs that I’ve screwed up. Same with Kimberly. And they’re the last people I’d ever want to let down.

“Thank you. I happen to think you’re pretty great yourself,” I say with a wink. She giggles, and the sound of her laughter goes right to my crotch and my heart. She owns me, every part of me. That feeling is beginning to become familiar, and I pray that it never goes away.

I rush to the back of the room and change back into the clothes that I arrived in before taking Kimberly’s hand in mine and pulling her toward the door. As soon as the next commercial break happens, we’ll be seated, but until then she and I are going to stand outside this room and get lost in each other. I lean up against the wall and pull her close to me. Her body presses into mine, and her breasts push up against my chest, giving me ample viewing pleasure.

Right now would be the ideal moment to kiss her, but there are too many people around and I don’t want to make her uncomfortable, so instead I fish for compliments. “Are you sure we were good? You’re not just blowing smoke up my ass?”

Kimberly thinks about my question for far too long until my mouth is dropping open in disbelief. Maybe Rebel was right and we truly need to work more.

Then she flashes a grin. “Just kidding. I thought you guys were great. Natalie and I were dancing backstage. I loved your performance.”

“But?”

“No but.”

“I sense a but,” I tell her.

She shakes her head before resting it on my shoulder. I use this to my advantage and press my lips to her skin, nipping along her collarbone until I’ve reached her ear. She shies away.

“Tell me,” I beg, whispering into her ear.

Kim looks at me and shrugs, trying to hide the smile from her face. “It’s weird, seeing you onstage and knowing that we’re in a relationship. I honestly never thought I’d be dating a member of a boy band.”

“So don’t think of us as a boy band,” I suggest, trying not to laugh. I’ve said the same thing many times to the guys, but let’s face it—we don’t play instruments, we dance around in choreographed moves, and we sing fucking pop songs. If that doesn’t scream boy band, I don’t know what the hell else would.

“I don’t think of it as a bad thing,” she tells me. “I mean, when you’re onstage and moving your hips”—Kim leans in, her lips grazing my ear—“it does things to me. Watching you onstage gives me a feeling that I can’t describe. My body aches, begging for you to touch me, for your lips to kiss me, and for your—”

“Commercial break. Please take your seats.” The announcement causes me to jump, and the words quickly deflate the stiffy that was growing in my jeans. I feel like sending a memo to my dick that it should just stay hard when Kim’s around, because I’m bound to get it more action soon. The up-and-down sensation from being hard to not is no fun.

“You’re evil,” I tell Kim, but she shrugs as if she did nothing wrong. We head down the hall, following the gofer they sent to retrieve us. The dim hallway gives me a chance to discreetly adjust myself before we enter the auditorium. I know the people in the audience will look, even stare, because I’ve done the same to other artists when they’ve entered the auditorium in a rush to get to their seats before the commercials are over.

I take the outside seat, letting Kim sit next to Natalie, with Brayden next to her and finally Carson. I sneak a look at Brayden, who is focused on the stage. His hand rests on his knee with his index finger aimed slightly at Natalie. I don’t know how long he’s going to keep up the charade that they’re just friends, because I can see through his bullshit. Natalie, on the other hand, is angled toward Kimberly, making me wonder if she’s put Brayden in the friend zone.

Kimberly is angled toward me, as close as she can possibly get with the armrest in our way. When I look at her, she bites her lower lip, and her lust-filled blue eyes return my gaze, telling me that she’s going to welcome my advances when we get in the car later. That dress she’s wearing will be around her waist the second the car door shuts and that sweet pussy of her will be wrapped around my dick, keeping it happy for at least an hour.

Chapter 23

Kimberly

Bodhi tells the driver to take the long way to the after-party before he pushes the button to raise the privacy panel. I don’t bother trying to pull down my dress when I sit, and indeed, before the driver even pulls out into traffic, Bodhi’s freed his cock from the confines of his jeans and begins stroking it, knowing how much I like to watch.

His thumb lightly grazes over my parted lips. The next swipe has a little more pressure, and this time my tongue sneaks out, wetting the pad of his thumb. He lets out a low growl as my eyes go from his down to his arousal. I lick my lips as wetness begins between my legs. I can’t wait any longer and straddle him, sliding my tongue over his lips as I do. The sensation of him filling me is too much to handle, causing me to cry out.

“That’s it, baby, ride my cock.” Bodhi slouches down, giving us a better angle, and plants his foot against the other seat, giving him more leverage to thrust into me.

The top of my dress is pulled down, and one breast is covered by his mouth and the other by his hand, with his fingers tweaking my nipples. My hands move everywhere—his hair, his face, his lips, his chest, and back again—as I try to satisfy the desire I’m feeling.

“You’re so fucking sexy,” he coos. “You’re enough to keep me high, Kimberly.”

That’s what I want. I want to be the one he needs to stay clean. I grab at my breast and throw my head back as my orgasm takes over. Bodhi pulls me forward and slams into me as hard as he can until he’s grunting and releasing inside me.

“Mr. McKnight, we’re pulling up now,” the driver says through the intercom.

Bodhi reaches over and presses the intercom button. “Thanks. Give us a minute, please.”

I slide off him and grab a few tissues to clean myself as discreetly as possible. Once my dress is righted, I checking the mirror to make sure I don’t look freshly fucked. I’m a little surprised that we did all that and my lipstick still looks flawless.

“We fucked with no foreplay,” I tell him.

He chuckles and kisses my shoulder. “I’m always hard, you’re always wet. Match made in heaven, if you ask me.”

I can’t help but laugh at him. Maybe this is all someone needs in life, amazing and spontaneous sex. But that gets you only so far in a relationship.

Once we both look presentable, he tells the driver that we’re ready to get out of the car.

The door opens and Bodhi steps out first, leaving his hand extended for me to grab. I carefully place both my legs out of the car first before standing, knowing that if I step out with one leg, people can see right up my dress.

Questions are thrown at him in rapid succession, but he doesn’t answer any of them. My heart misses a beat when I hear the name Aspen, but I try not to let my steps falter. The last thing Bodhi needs to know is that I looked him up on the Web and know about Aspen. By all accounts, she was his girlfriend, even though he never admitted it. Maybe it was a contractual thing that he not have an official girlfriend, but I’m almost certain they were a couple and now they’re not.

We enter the nightclub, which is packed. Bodies everywhere are making it hard to move. I cling to his hand, refusing to let go even though I’m jostled by people trying to get by.

“The guys are over there,” he says, almost yelling in my ear, and pointing toward one side of the club. I nod and squeeze his hand, letting him know that I’m following him.

I breathe a sigh of relief when I spot Natalie sitting with Brayden.

“Man, what the fuck took you so long?” Carson asks.

“Traffic,” Bodhi replies.

“What traffic?”

Bodhi shrugs and looks at me. I’ve got nothing. I was too busy having an orgasm to care.

“I need to go use the restroom,” I tell Bodhi, and ask Natalie to go with me. She does, and the guys laugh, saying something about chicks and the bathroom. Natalie flips them off, then grabs my hand so we don’t get separated.

Thankfully there isn’t a line and I take the first stall that I come to. Natalie is chatting up a storm with someone she seems to know, and I’m trying not to listen. By the time I’m finished, she’s waiting by the door for me.

“Let me just wash my hands.”

“No rush. The guys won’t go anywhere without us.”

“That’s good. Do you come with Brayden a lot?”

She shakes her head and fixes her hair in the dingy mirror. “Only when I’m not working or he can give me enough notice to ask for the time off.”

“Do you like being a nurse?” Earlier in the day she told me about her job, which involves really long hours; sometimes she has to rely on Brayden to pick Maggie up from preschool.

“I love it, just not the hours.”

We leave the bathroom as a swarm of girls come in. A few call out the guys’ names, but Natalie keeps walking, dragging me behind her. Then she’s stopped by someone else she knows, and I’m left standing there awkwardly. Natalie introduces me, but I’m more focused on spotting Bodhi. When I do, my heart drops.

“Excuse me,” I say. “Natalie, who is that talking to Bodhi?”

Natalie stretches to see, standing on her tiptoes. “Oh, that’s Aspen Lawrence.”

Dread washes over me as I take them in. He’s standing with a drink in his hand, and she’s close to him—too close for my liking. When her hand touches him, I just about lose the contents of my stomach because he doesn’t push her away. She leans into him, saying something in his ear, and he laughs, keeping his head angled toward her.

It takes me a while to make my way over to him, trying to squeeze past the bodies. People jostle me, others call my name, and I’m even groped as I try to get by them. I hate this place and I want to leave. This life isn’t for me.

I walk over to our reserved table, but Bodhi and Aspen are so into each other they don’t even know I’m here. I open my mouth a few times to say something, but nothing comes out. Aspen finally looks at me, smirks, and goes right back to talking to Bodhi.

I’ve been cheated on before, and it’s not something I ever want to experience again. I tug on his arm, hard enough that he spills his drink on Aspen.

“Shit,” he says as he starts to wipe her dress off. She, of course, is enjoying the fact that he’s touching her.

“Bodhi,” I yell, shoving him to get is attention. When he looks at me, his blue eyes are dull and his pupils dilated. He’s high. I cover my mouth to keep from crying out, but my reaction means nothing to him. Not a single thing.

I turn and leave, weaving my way through the crowd until I’m outside. As soon as my feet hit the pavement, I slip off my shoes and hail the first cab I can. The driver laughs when I give him the address, but I tell him to take me there anyway. I’m assuming I’ll be let in; if not, I’ll call my father and ask him to come get me.

The cabdriver laughs again when I hand him my money and get out. It’s late and I have no choice but to push the button for the intercom.

“Hi, it’s Kimberly Gordon, Bodhi’s…friend. Can you let me in? I forgot something.”

The gate swings open and I slip in, running up to the house. Before I can knock, the door opens. I breeze past the staff member and up the stairs. Once inside his room I strip off the dress and lay it neatly on the chair. I don’t want it; maybe his mom can give it to someone.

I pack hastily, fighting the tears, and make my exit. Aspen is his trigger, and being clean wasn’t important enough for him. I was just a toy he was having fun with until he saw her again. I throw my bag in my car and drive toward the gate, asking to be let out. They do so without question. They can be the one to tell Bodhi that I left in the middle of the night.

The moment I hit the street, the tears start flowing. I call Daphne and tell her everything. She listens to me cry and berate myself for being so damn stupid as to fall for his game. She tells me to come to her house and that we’ll eat ice cream until we’re puking our brains out. The thought doesn’t appeal to me, and the only thing I want is the comfort of my own bed. We talk until I reach the mile-long driveway for Serenity Springs.

I park and turn the car off. I’m holding my phone in my hand, waiting for a message from Bodhi that I know isn’t going to come before I shut it off. Inside my apartment, it feels empty. When I left, I left with so much love and promise in my heart. Now that I’m home, I regret going.

Chapter 24

Bodhi

I startle awake when my door is abruptly opened and slammed against my wall. My name is yelled by a voice sounding much like my father’s.

“Get up, Bodhi!”

The blankets are pulled from my bed and ice-cold water is poured over my head.

I gasp for air and cough, trying to clear the water from my mouth. “Fuck, I’m awake. What the hell?”

Kim moans beside me, and I look over to make sure she’s covered up. My dad stands in front of me with his hands on his hips and his face red. I glance at my clock; it’s just after nine. I think we rolled in from the after-party about five. Fuck, I’m going to have a headache.

“What part of ‘no drugs’ wasn’t clear to you?”

“What are you talking about?” My head is pounding and I don’t know why. Usually lack of sleep won’t do this to me, but I feel hungover and I know I drank only water last night.

“Wake your guest up and tell her to go home. She’s not welcome here.”

I look at my father incredulously and stand to face him.

“Kimberly has been here all weekend. I’m not booting her out of the house because you have some stick up your ass. If you want her gone, I’ll go too.”

“It’s not Kimberly, Bodhi, and if you weren’t so fucking high, you would’ve known that.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” I point at Kim, who is still asleep. “That’s Kim. Her dress is right there from last night.” I gesture toward the chair where her
dress is lying.

My dad rips the rest of the covers from my bed, exposing Kim. I start to protest, but then I see it—a tattoo on her foot. Kim doesn’t have a tattoo. My eyes continue to travel up her body. The same small figure, blond hair, but there’s something different, something I can’t pinpoint.

“Holy fuck,” I say, running to the bathroom and expelling the contents of my stomach. My dad steps in behind me but doesn’t offer assistance. “What the fuck happened?”

“That’s what I’m asking you. I received a very unpleasant phone call this morning from my friend Bruce Gordon, a man who helped you out, about how inappropriate my son is and how his daughter is distraught because you relapsed. What he couldn’t figure out is why she cared so much until she let it slip that you two have been dating since you checked out. But what I don’t understand is why that’s not Kim in your bed. I thought you really liked her.”

I flush the toilet and then shift to the sink to rinse my mouth out.

“Dad, I don’t know what happened. The last thing I remember before you woke me up is taking Kim to the after-party.”

“Why would you ruin what you’ve accomplished by getting high?”

“I didn’t,” I tell him, running my hands through my hair. “I didn’t, Dad. Kim…she means a lot to me. I wouldn’t do that to her.”

“Who’s in your bed?”

“Aspen Lawrence,” I grit out. I don’t need to see the look on his face to know he’s disappointed in me. Hell, I’m disappointed in myself right now.

“Get her out of my house, Bodhi, than meet me downstairs.”

“Yes, sir.”

My father leaves, slamming my bedroom door. I jump at the sound even though I was expecting it. I’m so fucked. My life as I know it is over as far as Kimberly is concerned. She’ll never listen to me when I tell her that I didn’t fall off the wagon. God, what the fuck happened last night?

Stomping back into my room, I try to rouse Aspen. At first she doesn’t budge, but she wakes up fast when I start pulling her off my bed. She smiles and reaches for me, but I bat away her hand.

“Asshole, what’s your problem?”

“How the fuck did you end up here?”

“You brought me home.”

“Bullshit. The last thing I remember is showing up at the after-party with my girlfriend. You’re not my girlfriend, and for some fucked-up reason she’s not here. What did you do to me?”

“Nothing you didn’t want done.” Aspen sighs and pulls her hair into a bun.

I sit down in the chair, careful to move Kim’s dress. The smell of her perfume washes over me, reminding me of what we did in the car.

“Aspen, I need you to be serious with me because I’m about to lose my shit. I worked my ass off in rehab to get clean and found a nice woman that I want to spend my time with, yet somehow you end up in my bed and I don’t remember how it happened. You can tell me the truth, or I’m going to call the cops and tell them I have an intruder in my house. And I’m willing to bet that once they search your bag, you’ll be spending the night in jail.”

She looks around my room, likely contemplating her exit, but there isn’t one. I won’t let her leave without the truth.

“I’m waiting.”

“Why couldn’t you just love me, huh?”

“Because I never saw you like that. Tell me what happened last night.”

She picks at her skin, making her fingers bleed. That’s something Kim would never do. Aspen’s sunken eyes and stringy hair are a far cry from the beauty that Kimberly has.

“I saw you come in with her, and when she left I came over to talk to you. You were drinking water, like a good boy, and I was pissed. You fucking hung me out to dry and with no place to live, so I thought I’d have a little fun.”

“What kind of fun?”

She shrugs as if this is no big deal. To her it probably isn’t, but to me, it’s my life. “I put a little GHB in your water when you weren’t looking. I didn’t think it’d work, but as soon as she came back you wanted nothing to do with her.”

I fight back the tears as my heart breaks, not only for myself but for Kimberly. “What happened between us?”

“Nothing.”

“No sex?”

“Nope. I tried, but you passed out.”

I sit there, unable to look at her, as my stomach rolls. I can’t even imagine what Kimberly is feeling right now. If it’s half of what I am, it’s crippling. “You’re a fucking bitch, Aspen. I used to feel sorry for you, but now I feel nothing but hatred. Get the fuck out of my house and my life. Don’t come around, don’t show up at any VeeP events. If you think I’m going to be there, don’t go. If I see you, I will ruin you.”

She calmly gathers her things and exits my room. I should walk her out, make sure she leaves, but the only thing I want to do is get to Kimberly before it’s too late.

I dress quickly in shorts and T-shirt, slipping on my shoes and grabbing the essentials. I run into my dad at the bottom of the stairs as he’s shutting the front door.

“Where are you going?”

“To San Diego.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

“I appreciate the concern, but I have to go.”

He doesn’t try to stop me, for which I’m thankful.

I punch the code into the panel and the garage door opens. In my bay is my car and my motorcycle. The car is the smart choice, but right now I don’t want to be smart. I want to be reckless and stupid. And I want to get there faster. My mind is made up when I see my helmet hanging from a peg on the wall. I slip it on over my head and straddle my bike. It’s been far too long since I’ve ridden, and the roar of the engine excites me.

I pull out of the garage and onto the street. It’s only a matter of minutes before I’m on the highway, heading toward San Diego. The day is going to be hot, and the farther south I go, the warmer it is. In hindsight, my car would’ve been smart for the air-conditioning.

You might think this is the time to go through my thoughts and figure out what I’m going to say to Kim, but all I can come up with is “I’m sorry.” It’s not going to be enough, I know that, but everything else is failing me right now. I never should’ve left her side last night. I weave in and out of traffic, pissing off other motorists, but I’m determined to get to her before it’s too late.

Too late for what? That’s what I don’t know. I thought professing my love for her would be enough to prove to her that I want to be in a relationship with her and only her. If it’s not, I don’t know what else I can do.

When I see her exit ahead, I accelerate, willing to push the speed limit. I have to try to find the ranch from memory, since I really don’t want to stop and ask for directions. After half an hour of searching, I finally find the road that leads to the center.

The parking lot is full; it must be family day. I can only hope that her patient has someone visiting. I park my bike, remove my helmet, and head in.

“I need to see Kimberly, please,” I tell the receptionist, who asks me to give her a minute. I tell her I’ll be outside waiting, and she nods. I look up at the bright blue sky and think about how Kim and I could be somewhere out on the boat, having a good time, but no, I’m here trying to win back the woman I love because of a mistake that I didn’t even make.

“Bodhi, you shouldn’t be here,” Kim says from behind me, as if I’m not welcome or I’m breaking some sort of rehab law. I’d laugh at the ridiculousness of such a law if her voice wasn’t flat and nothing like the sound I’m used to.

I turn and look at her, but she’s focused on the ground. “You have to let me explain, Kimberly,” I plead.

“I need to work,” she says without looking at me.

I step to her and gently lift her chin so she’s looking at me. “You had today and tomorrow off. Don’t try to lie to me.”

“I’m not the liar.”

“I’m not either.”

“I don’t date drug users.”

“Good thing I’m clean.”

She sighs and says, “I don’t date cheaters.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I’m not a cheater, then. Kim, that shit you saw last night wasn’t my doing. When you went to the bathroom, she used that as an opportunity to put GHB in my water.” I step closer and grab her hands. “Kimberly, look at me.”

She doesn’t, and I know there isn’t anything I can do about it.

“I wouldn’t hurt you. These past few days have been the best days of my life, and I wouldn’t trade those for anything, definitely not drugs. You’re my high, baby. I don’t need anything else as long as I have you.”

“Did you sleep with her?”

“I did not, except she slept in my bed last night. I thought she was you, and when my dad was yelling at me this morning I kept telling him that you were sleeping—until he pulled the blanket off her and I saw that it wasn’t you. I threw up just from the thought that I hurt you. Please say you’ll come back with me.”

Tears well up in her eyes, and as she blinks they start to fall. She shakes her head, telling me everything I need to know. Slowly I step away from her, putting enough space between us so that an onlooker would think we’re acquaintances and nothing more.

“So this is it? You don’t believe me, and you’re not willing to accept the fact that the only mistake I made last night was not following you to the bathroom?”

When she doesn’t say anything, I have my answer.

“Thanks for nothing, Kim.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She follows me to my bike. “You cheated on me.”

“The fuck I did. I was fucking drugged by a damn sociopath, and I came down here to tell you that. If I wanted her or wanted to be high, I would just do it.”

She blanches at my words, but at this point I don’t care. She doesn’t trust me, that much is clear, and once trust is broken there really isn’t a way to get it back. I can’t live a life where she’s second-guessing everything I do, and she shouldn’t live that way either.

Chapter 25

Kimberly

The dust from Bodhi’s bike blocks my view of him as he speeds away. The second I heard his bike start, I second-guessed everything I had just said to him, and I called out to him, but he couldn’t hear me. My head tells me I shouldn’t believe him, but my heart tells me I should. Even while he was a patient here, he never gave me any reason to think he was a liar.

But he’s famous. Aren’t all famous people liars? Maybe that’s what the tabloids want us to believe so we continue to buy their garbage. Or is it me—I can’t believe anything he says because he’s been in rehab? Maybe it’s because I’m insecure in his love for me—why would a mega-superstar like Bodhi McKnight love an average person like me? I keep looking down the road, waiting for him to reappear, but the sound of his motorcycle is nothing but a faint memory.

“Kim?”

My dad’s hand rests on my back. I turn, put my head on his chest, and cry. I’ve been sobbing for hours, but the tears seem to continue to fall. When he saw me come home in the middle of the night, he came to my apartment and I told him everything. I hadn’t wanted to, but once the words started I couldn’t stop them. He was shocked to find out about Bodhi, and when he asked if anything happened while he was in rehab, I lied.

I lied to protect Bodhi and myself.

I’m the liar in this relationship, but I accused Bodhi of lying when in my heart I know he’s telling the truth. Why did I let him get away?

“I have to go after him, Dad.”

“No, Kim. It’s clear that he rushed into a relationship and isn’t man enough to handle it. It’s common with addicts. They need a person to hold their hand, even away from rehab.”

“No, that’s not it at all. I lost faith in him too quickly.”

My dad shepherds me into my apartment and sits me on the couch, then ducks into the bathroom and returns with a cold compress.

“Thanks. I’m sure I look crazy.”

“You’re always beautiful to me.”

I nod, remembering the words Bodhi said to me. He was always complimenting me, making sure I was comfortable, and he never let me feel like I didn’t belong with him and his friends.

And when he needed me the most, when he needed me to believe him, I gave up because it was easier to block him out and forget about everything we’ve shared over the past two months than to let him tell me his side of the story. Maybe I thought that was the safer route—take the hurt all up front rather than draw out a painful breakup. But the joke’s on me. I never should have doubted him in the first place.

As soon as my dad leaves, I dial Daphne’s number.

“He came to see you, didn’t he?”

“How do you know?”

“Just a hunch. Some blog posted about seeing him getting gas at a station in San Diego.”

“Yeah, he was here. I think I screwed up, D.”

“Tell me,” she says. I can hear her moving around her apartment, and I wonder if I caught her at a bad time. Even if I did, she’d never tell me.

“He said he was drugged.”

“Hmm. Seems to be a classic line from someone who’s addicted, right? ‘It’s not what it looks like’ and all that shit?”

“That’s what I thought, but now I don’t know. It doesn’t add up. The way he was treating me, how we were together—why would he suddenly get high while I was in the bathroom?”

“Because he’s an addict?”

Daphne’s words are no different from my father’s. But what good am I to someone I’m helping get clean if I think of them as only an addict once they leave here?

“I need to go talk to him, D. Even if it’s just to talk. He has to know that I believe him, and I do now. I do believe he didn’t get high by choice.”

“So what are you waiting for?”

“I don’t know. Maybe for you to tell me I’m stupid. Or maybe that I need to follow my heart and go after the man I love, whether he relapsed or not.”

“Kimmy, I’m not going to tell you either of those things. Look at me. I haven’t had a single serious relationship in my life, so I’m the last one you should ask for advice. It seems to me that if you love him, that love should conquer all. I’d understand if you’d been down this path with him before and he kept using, but I don’t think that’s the case. I think you were confused and hurt by what you saw and you reacted like any normal human would. You were in a crowded club, emotions were high, and you did the right thing given what you saw.

“Now you have to ask yourself if he’s worth it. If you’re not sure, you need to let him go so you can both heal. But if he is, Kimmy, and you want to be with him, then go grovel and tell him how sorry you are for not trusting him. Only you can make the decision. This isn’t like asking me whether or not you should get vanilla or chocolate, because you know I’ll always choose chocolate. This is your life. Follow your heart and see where it leads.”

I laugh at her reference to ice cream—somehow I knew her favorite food group would make an appearance in any conversation about my love life—but I let her words sink in.

“I gotta go, Daphne.”

“Oh yeah? Where?”

“Back to Beverly Hills.”

“Are you sure about this, Kimmy?”

I nod, even though she can’t see me. “I am. I love him, Daph.”

“Call me when you get there so I know you made it.”

“I will. Bye.”

I move quickly throughout my apartment, gathering my stuff. When I came home I just threw everything down and fell onto my bed and cried.

I know my dad wouldn’t want me to go. But my heart is telling me otherwise. Deep down I believe Bodhi, even despite the lingering thought that he put himself in her path and could’ve moved away from her. I guess he could’ve been trying to be nice, but I’m not sure I buy that. I don’t want him to be nice to her, because I fear that she could be a wedge between us.

Do I give him an ultimatum? Do I tell them that if wants to be with me, she has to be out of his life? That’s fair, right?

Rushing to my car, I toss my bag into the backseat and pull out before my dad can catch on to what I’m doing. No sooner am I down the driveway than my phone rings. It’s my dad, and I let it go to voicemail. I need to do what’s right for me, and that is Bodhi. Dad will never understand until he can see us together.

As soon as I hit the interstate, traffic comes to a standstill. I bang my head against my steering wheel and yell in frustration.

Chapter 26

Bodhi

The drive home from Serenity Springs was a blur. I can’t get it out of my head that Kim thought I would cheat on her or go back to drugs. I never would have thought that about her. But I guess I’m not a very good judge of character when it comes to women. The evidence: my association with Aspen.

Before I know it, I’m pulling into the garage. As if on autopilot, I hang up my helmet and make my way back into the house. My parents call out to me, but I tell them I’m going to bed. I’m sure they’re worried that I’ve relapsed, and honestly, I don’t blame them. I’m nothing but a fuckup, anyway.

As soon as I open my bedroom door, the smell of Kim’s perfume hits me like a ton of bricks. I miss her, and I had her here for only a few short days. I step inside the room, shutting the door behind me, and picture her everywhere. The chair holding her dress mocks me, reminding me what Kimberly and I shared in the back of the car. Even my closet feels empty without her stuff hanging next to mine.

I’m alone. I’m alone when I thought I was going to have someone to share my life with. Even with the distance between San Diego and Beverly Hills, I knew I’d hear her voice on the phone or we’d video chat. But now I have nothing and it hurts. My chest feels tight and my eyes sting as I try to fight back the tears. Why do I feel this way after only weeks of knowing her? I shouldn’t. I should be able to shrug her off like she didn’t matter.

Except I can’t, because I need her like I need air to breathe and water to live.

And she’s gone.

It’s with that realization that I finally understand why Dr. Rosenberg said that new relationships are frowned upon for people who’ve recently been through rehab. The threat of relapse is there. Except I have too much going for me to go out and snort some nose candy. Rebel wouldn’t give me a second chance, no matter what, and I need the group. I need Kimberly more, but she doesn’t want me.

I lie back on the bed and let the tears flow. Whoever said guys don’t cry are full of shit. It feels good to let everything out. I never used to understand when people say it’s good to cry sometimes, but I do now. I have so many suppressed emotions that they all start flowing once I open the gates: Kimberly, my parents, Virtuous Paradox. The memories aren’t all bad—some are good—but nonetheless the tears flow like they never have before.

I look at the bedside clock and make the decision that tomorrow is going to be a sick day for me. I need some time to get my head straight before I face Rebel. The last thing I need is for her to assume I’m using again if I show up with bloodshot eyes from lack of sleep. I don’t need to give her an excuse to kick me out of VeeP. It’s the only thing that I have left.

I pull out my phone. The screen comes alive, only to show me a picture that I took of Kimberly and me last night. Man, she looked like a fucking movie star in that formfitting strapless dress. She belonged on the red carpet, putting all the other women to shame.

She’s the first woman I ever really made love to, as opposed to just screwing, but it all seems to have been for naught. She doesn’t love me like I love her. It was so easy for her to dismiss the truth without listening to me explain.

Images of her beneath me with her head thrown back, her neck elongated and begging for me to bite it, replay in my mind. Every memory I have from every encounter is going to be distant before too long. Next week I won’t be able to recall the smell of her perfume, or the way her leg wrapped around my hip before she was about to come. Two months with her wasn’t enough to last me a lifetime.

I compose a quick text to Rebel and the guys, letting them know that I’m not feeling well. Before I can turn my phone off, Rebel replies, asking if I need anything. I’m certain she’s asking because I’m fresh out of rehab and the worry that I’m using again is at the forefront of her mind. When it comes down to it, she has to protect the group, not me. I tell her that I’m okay and just need tomorrow off. I know it puts us behind, but I can make it up. Besides, working seven days a week isn’t going to cut it in the long run, and she knows it.

I close my eyes as the tears fall again. They run down the sides of my face, wetting my ears and leaving puddles on my comforter. I feel like such a girl, lying here and crying because someone doesn’t want to be with me. I don’t know what hurts more, the fact that she rejected me after she told me she loved me or the fact that she doesn’t believe me. When I think of either, my chest aches and it’s hard to breathe.

This is karma coming back in the worst way. I was a douche growing up and while I was doing coke, and I hurt a lot of people. Now Kim’s shown me that I can hurt too. Feeling the way I do now makes me want to repent every misdeed I’ve done in the past. I have the urge to look up the chicks I dated and tell them how sorry I am that I was such a dick to them in high school and after. I should’ve known that someone like Kimberly was too good for me, even though most people would see it the other way around—according to Hollywood standards, I should have another A-lister on my arm, someone famous or the daughter of someone famous. Definitely not the daughter of a man who happens to run an exclusive rehab facility that caters to snobby rich kids like myself.

It occurs to me that that’s the classic fairy-tale romance that everyone is always looking for—minus the rehab part, of course. Celebrity falls in love with average girl, and they live happily ever after. Except we met at rehab, so that makes our story more like a Brothers Grimm version. Addict falls for his drug counselor, but in a twist of fate he’s drugged by his former dealer, and the one woman he wants to be with single-handedly destroys everything he thought was starting to go right in his life when she refuses to believe he’s telling the truth.

Maybe Kim saw the fairy tale turning into a nightmare and that’s why she left. I’d much prefer that she think she can’t fit into my Hollywood life than to believe I cheated on her or that I went back to snorting cocaine. And it’s funny, but this is why coke is the perfect numbing agent: it shuts off your thoughts. Your brain receptors shut down and you float through life on this high that you never want to come down from.

There are so many things I want to say to Kimberly. But the most important is that she didn’t need to love me in order to save me; she just needed to be my friend. Though it would have been hard if she didn’t feel the same love for me as I felt for her, I think in the long run I would’ve been perfectly fine with having her as someone I could trust, someone I could talk to when I needed to hear a voice of reason. But now I don’t even have that.

I don’t have her.

I don’t have anyone.

—

Someone is pounding on my bedroom door. I jolt awake and rub my eyes, swollen from crying. They open slowly, painfully. My mouth is dry and my lips chapped. Rain pelts the windows. The bedside clock flashes red numbers at me; there must have been a power outage at some point. I get up and press the switch for my bedside lamp. I search for my cellphone to see the time; when I find it, it’s dead.

“Shit,” I mutter as I make my way to my bedroom door. I twist the knob, only to find it won’t open. I must’ve locked it when I came home earlier. I unlock it and open it, and I’m shocked to see Kimberly standing there, her hair matted and makeup running down her face.

My hand rests on the doorknob, and my heart is beating loudly, drowning out the rainstorm outside. If I let her in, I’m letting my wounded heart bleed more. If I close the door in her face, I’ll always wonder why she came here in the middle of the night during a storm.

I’m torn. It would be easier to just walk away. I can heal, move on, and pretend that the past two months never meant anything to me. With the success of Virtuous Paradox, getting laid won’t be an issue. And I’m sure Rebel much prefers if I don’t have a girlfriend.

Except I love Kimberly and I want to be with her. And even if I can’t be with her that way, if she doesn’t love me, I need her in my life. I need the support she can offer me. Even if all we can be is friends, she’ll be there in the middle of the night when I’m feeling like I can’t do this anymore.

For that reason I step aside and let her in, closing the door behind her. In the end, I need her in my life in any capacity that I can have her.

“Hi,” she says after a long moment of silence between us. I wanted to be the first one to say something, but the lump in my throat has prevented me.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, my tone harsher than I intended it to be. She takes a step back, and for some reason I find it comical that she’s caught off guard by my tone.

She brushes the wet hair from her face, takes a deep breath. “I had to come here, to talk to you.”

“So talk.” I go over to stand by the window and watch as the rain splashes in the pool. When she doesn’t say anything, I glance at her.

She looks down for a second before bringing her eyes back up to mine and squaring her shoulders as if she’s preparing for battle. “I’m sorry about not believing you earlier. I foolishly looked you up on the Web one night and found numerous pictures of you and Aspen. I figured she was one of your triggers. So when I saw you guys together I…I didn’t know what to do. I’m in love with you, but I feel like I’m having to compete for your time. Our schedules are different. You stay up all night, whereas I’m usually in bed by ten. I’m afraid that I won’t be able to fit in with your lifestyle, and you’ll forget about me.”

When Kimberly pauses, I open my mouth to speak, but she holds her hand up and goes on. “I never had any difficulty working with other patients one-on-one, but from the moment I met you in the parking lot you made my insides quiver. I found it hard to breathe when you were near, and I was giddy every time I saw you. I should’ve asked that you be reassigned to someone else to help in your recovery, but I’m selfish. Falling for you while you were at Serenity Springs was ethically wrong, but I did it anyway.” She stops, her gaze fixed on me.

At last I ask, “Why’d you leave?”

Kimberly shakes her head and wipes away tears. “Because I thought you chose drugs and her over me, and I couldn’t bear to hear that from your mouth. When I asked at the club what was going on, the look you gave me was soulless. There was nothing but a void in your eyes, and I thought that I had lost you. I knew Aspen was my competition; I just didn’t expect to run into her so quickly.”

“She’s not your competition, Kimberly. She’s not even in your league.” I push away from the wall and sit down in a chair. Taking a deep breath, I tell Kim the story about Aspen. “Aspen was a friend for a long time—her mother is an actress, so we’ve run in the same circles for a long time—and when I needed a pick-me-up, she was there with the coke. Aspen was my dealer, for lack of a better word. I stupidly let her move in with me because that meant I could get high anytime I wanted. We were never lovers, although she tried many times and we did fool around.

“But I don’t love her. I never have. You’re the one I’m in love with.” I look straight into Kim’s eyes. “But if you can’t trust me, then this isn’t going to work.”

“I know,” she says, shaking her head.

My heart falls. I thought she’d come here to tell me she wants me back, but now I don’t think that’s it. I don’t want to accept that our relationship is over before it even really had a chance to grow, but that’s my reality right now.

Kimberly walks over to me and stands in front of me. I fight the urge to touch her, keeping my hands glued to my thighs. When she starts crying, though, it’s my undoing, and I pull her into my arms—against my better judgment, because touching her and not being able to be with her is going to be the death of me. Her hands grip my shirt and she cries into my shoulder. This makes me want to scream at Aspen again, but what’s the point? Aspen needs help and isn’t going to get it before it’s too late.

“I’m sorry, Bodhi.”

“I’m sorry too, Kimberly. I thought things would be different. That you’d trust me and believe in me. I can see what Dr. Rosenberg means by new relationships beginning just after rehab not being a good idea. They probably don’t start off very healthy.”

We sit there together for a moment in silence.

At last Kim says, “I was wrong to assume that I was enough.”

“Enough for what?”

“Enough for you to stay clean, Bodhi.”

I look into her blue eyes. “But you are, Kimberly.” Tears form in my own eyes. “For you, I want to be a better person than the one you read about. Because of you, I have a different outlook on life and want to share it with you. In the thirty days we spent with each other at Serenity Springs, you changed me. You showed me what it’s like to live for me and not worry about what others think. You guided me through one of the worst periods of my life and never judged me. And then you gave me a chance to be someone that I’ve never been before. With you I found a relationship that made me want to wake up every day. You’re the reason I’m going to stay clean. You’re the reason I smile and want to be a better person. So yes, you are enough to keep me clean.”

“I’m so sorry I left,” she cries out. “I was so stupid.”

“I forgive you,” I say, surprised to hear myself saying it, but realizing that it’s true. I’m in love with her and want her to be a part of my life.

Kimberly kisses me. Her hands are everywhere, and mine quickly follow suit. Something tells me that makeup sex is going to be especially hot, but I’m secretly hoping we don’t fight like this ever again.

“I have one question,” I say, pulling away from her. “Will you take a sabbatical and stay here with me for a while? In a few months VeeP will be going on tour and I honestly don’t want to be away from you for that long. It’s not that I think I’m going to relapse; it’s more that I don’t want to be away from you. I don’t think I can go on tour and not see you at least on the weekends.”

“Do you think we’ll be together in a few months?”

I blanch at her words but understand where she’s coming from. I’m not exactly known for commitment. “You know, my mom once said to me that when you find the one you’re supposed to be with, it’s easy, because you can be yourself. When I’m with you, I’m just Bodhi McKnight.”

“And I never once thought of you as someone else.”

“That’s what makes this so right. You see me for me, and I love you for that.”

“I love you too, Bodhi, and the answer is yes. I’ll happily take a sabbatical, and then I’ll go on tour with you.”

My heart leaps, but I realize I have to tell her what touring is like and give her the chance to back out. “I want you to really think about it, because it means living on a tour bus and eating shitty food. Plus the hours suck. But I also promise you that the payoff will be worth it.”

“What kind of benefits are there?” She raises one eyebrow, and I’m so glad to see her sense of humor again.

“Free concert tickets, merchandise, and sex in odd places. You’ll have to learn how to be quiet and to enjoy fucking in closets and bending over bathrooms sinks so we can have a quickie. The beds on the bus are tiny, but that means we can cuddle more.”

“You make it sound so romantic.”

“It will be, if you believe in me.”

“I do, Bodhi. I do believe in you.”

Epilogue: Bodhi

It’s been months since I left rehab, and now I’m back—but it’s not because I relapsed. To date I haven’t touched drugs or alcohol, aside from the time Aspen drugged me. It’s been rather refreshing, actually—I’ve been able to see just how ridiculous people act when they’re wasted. For the most part, Bray and Carson have stopped drinking as well, especially when we’re at parties representing Virtuous Paradox.

I’m back at Serenity Springs because Susan is finally leaving, and I promised her that I’d be here when she got out. I had hoped things with her husband would turn around, but they haven’t. According to Kim and Susan, things only got worse—he stopped taking her calls and then changed his phone number. Many times I’ve wanted to hunt him down, but my father says he’ll have his day in court. Also as promised, Susan has a place to live at my parents’, a job, and a high-priced attorney ready to file on her behalf tomorrow morning.

I’m making her trip to my parents’ house an unforgettable one. I rented a white stretch limousine and brought Brayden and Carson with me. I don’t know if she’s a fan or not, but we’re going to treat her to lunch and make sure she feels special, because she is, and it’s about time someone shows her that.

The three of us lean against the limo waiting for Susan. Kim comes out first, carrying her overnight bag. The driver takes it from her before she even reaches me. I welcome her with a kiss that lingers longer than what is deemed appropriate in public. She’s been my salvation and the reason I am becoming a better person. Yes, I have to fight temptation, and I often wonder where Aspen is. Since that morning in my room, I haven’t seen or heard from her, and part of me hopes she’s in a place like Serenity Springs getting the help she needs. I know that what I have now is worth the struggle, and I want her to discover that too.

“Today is a big day,” she says, nestling into my side.

“I know. Is Susan ready?”

Kimberly nods and looks over at the door, waiting for Susan.

Even though Kim and I have been together for only a few months, things are amazing. Right now Kim spends four days a week with me, mostly over weekends. As much as I wanted her with me every day, it didn’t make sense for her to leave her job and sit at my parents’ every day while I worked. I didn’t want her to be bored and come to resent me.

Virtuous Paradox is going on tour soon, and when we do, Kim is coming with me. Rebel isn’t thrilled with the idea, but eventually she agreed. It’s not that I need Kim there to keep me on the straight and narrow; it’s because I love her and I don’t want to be away from her. My father was the same way after he met my mother. He cast her in all his upcoming movies so that he could be with her nonstop, marrying her just months after they met. It seemed to work for my parents, and I’m hoping it works for Kim and me as well.

“You guys really went above and beyond,” Kim says, and I look over at them. Carson is holding a dozen long-stemmed roses, and Bray a box of chocolates. Once I told them Susan’s story, they wanted to help. They’re in agreement with me that her husband is an epic piece of shit.

When Susan appears, I notice that she looks healthier. She’s put on a little weight, her eyes are less sunken, and her skin isn’t so ashen. It’s amazing what therapy, decent meals, and love can do for someone.

She comes to a halt in surprise when she sees us waiting for her, but her smile doesn’t waver. It’s as bright as the sun.

“Is this for me?” she asks timidly.

“Of course,” Carson says, stepping forward and handing her the roses.

“Wow, it’s been so long since I’ve been given flowers.”

“And chocolates,” Brayden says.

“Susan, allow me to introduce Brayden Copeland and Carson Monroe.”

Her eyes twinkle as the guys shake her hand. “I’m a huge fan,” she tells them, and then she looks over at me. “Thank you, Bodhi.”

I shrug because this isn’t a big deal. I know what she’s been through, and this is the least I could do for her.

“Don’t do that,” Susan tells me.

“Do what?” I ask her.

“Don’t act like this is something you do every day. The things you’ve done for me, what your family has offered…I’ll never be able to repay you.”

Stepping away from Kim, I place my hands on Susan’s shoulders and look her square in the eye. “Listen to me. We’ll never ask for repayment. You can stay as long as you want to, as long as you need to. Sometimes people need a break in life, and that is what we’re giving you. My parents are thrilled that you’re moving in, and my father is excited that you’ll be coming to work for him.”

“The apartment is very cute, Susan. Gabriela has gone a bit crazy decorating, but I think you’ll love it,” Kim adds.

Susan starts to cry, but Kim quickly envelops her in a hug. It’s another reason Kim’s coming with us today—to help Susan transition. I imagine it’s pretty damn scary being out on your own for the first time in months.

Kimberly helps Susan into the limo, and we pile in after her. Our first stop is Chateau Marmont, for lunch. We figured that Susan needs to see what it’s going to be like to dine with my father during the week. He’s always holding meetings here because the paparazzi aren’t allowed near the place.

Our drive back to Los Angeles is filled with jokes and a lot of laughter. At one point we have Susan laughing so hard that she’s holding her stomach and can barely catch her breath. It’s a nice sight to see. After lunch we head to my parents’, and my mother promptly whisks her away to show her the apartment.

Finally Kim and I are alone for a few minutes.

“Wanna take a walk?” I ask her. We link hands and venture outside, past the gate, and into the street. Luckily for us the media frenzy died down quickly when they realized Kim was here to stay and wasn’t just a weekend fling.

We walk a few blocks until we come to a condo with a real estate agent’s SOLD sign out front. I lead us up the walkway and unlock the door to my newly purchased house. I know it’s a risk, but I’m hoping she likes it. Otherwise it’s going back on the market.

“What’s this?”

“It’s something I wanted to show you.”

The entryway opens to a long hallway, with the living room and kitchen off to the left and a staircase on the right. Everything has been upgraded and painted, and the place is move-in ready. That’s the spiel the real estate agent gave me when she showed me the condo a few weeks ago.

Kim walks around and I follow behind her. I’ve been here many times imagining us living here and starting a family, but if she doesn’t like it, I’ll buy something else.

“The kitchen is beautiful.” And it is, with its stainless-steel appliances, buttermilk-colored cabinets, and hardwood floors. The kitchen was one of the big selling points for me, because I could see her being happy in here.

“As long as you’re standing in it, it is.” I go over to her and lift her up on the counter. The thought occurs to me that it’s the perfect height for me to fuck her on. “I bought this house for us.”

“You did?” Her eyes light up, confirming for me that she loves it as much as I do.

“I did, but I had to bring you here to test a few things.”

“Like what?”

“Well, the counter first of all. I have to make sure that the height is perfect, so when you’re cooking and I want to fuck, it’ll be easy to bend you over or take you like this.” I grind my growing erection into her core. I’m always hard when she’s around, and it’s something I’ve had to grow accustomed to. Kim scoots closer to the edge, adding her own pressure to my groin.

“What else?”

“The shower, of course. If we can’t fuck in there, it’ll have to be remodeled.”

“Do you think we should test it out?” she teases me.

“Maybe after we finish the tour.”

“What’s upstairs?” she asks. I look at the staircase and smile, because the upstairs is the most important part of the tour.

“Three bedrooms and two bathrooms.” I help her off the counter, making sure she slides down my erection before her feet touch the ground. I’m confident that we’ll be christening the house before we leave today. I kiss her lightly on the nose and take her hand in mine.

She follows me up the stairs, letting go of my hand when we come to the first room. It’s average size and would make a great guest room. I thought about finding something bigger, something with more rooms and a pool, but with this being so close to my parents’ house, it didn’t make sense.

She checks out the next room, which was used as a nursery. I see the twinkle in her eye, and her hand unconsciously glides over her stomach. I know she wants children, and I plan to give them to her.

When she gets to the master bedroom, she gasps and covers her mouth. I’ve already decorated it, sort of, with a bed and a picture on the wall.

The picture is of me, holding a ring in my hand. She walks over to it, and when she turns back to look at me, I’m on bended knee, holding a black velvet box in my hand.

“My father told me that when you find the one, the one who makes your heart beat faster, you make excuses to see them,” I began. “I make every excuse I can to drive down to see you before I have to go to rehearsal, even when I know I’ll see you on the weekends. I can’t go an hour without texting you or talking to you.

“You make me feel like I can accomplish anything, and there isn’t anything I want to do that doesn’t involve you. Kimberly, will you marry me?”

She drops to her knees, tears in her eyes. “Yes. Oh my, yes, I’ll marry you.”

My nervous hands fumble with the ring as I slip it on her finger. She holds her hand up, the sunlight hitting her diamond perfectly.

“If you don’t like it, we can get you something else.”

She shakes her head. “I love it. I love you. And I love this house.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she says, nodding. Her eyes glisten with happy tears. “And I’m going to show you.”

Kimberly has never shied away from showing me how she feels, but this time it feels different. We’re in what’s going to be our home, the place where our future will start. Her hands fumble with the buttons on my shirt, and after each button is undone, her lips press against my skin, burning the sensation into my being.

The way she undresses me is slow and methodical, almost like a present that you’re eager to open but you want to take your time with to savor the beautiful wrapping.

“Stand up,” she commands, and I do, watching her intently as she undoes my belt, letting it dangle between us. Next she opens the button on my pants and pushes my slacks and boxers to the floor, freeing my straining cock.

Kimberly licks her lips before taking me deep in her throat. My head falls back as I groan. I don’t care how many times we fuck—I’ll never get used to her mouth or pussy. Each time is like the first time. Her nails scrape along my legs and over to my ass, bringing me forward into her mouth. I thrust gently, creating some much-needed friction as she pumps me with her hand.

All of a sudden I need to be in her. I reach for her arms, pulling her up until she’s standing in front of me. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand in the sexiest fucking move I have ever seen.

“Turn around,” I demand, guiding her shoulder until her back is facing me. The swell of her ass presses against my growing erection. She shimmies against me, eager for my dick. The dress she’s wearing is one of those summer ones that flow easily and make it so fucking easy to bend her over. I bunch it up in my hands to reveal her perfect ass.

“Spread your legs for me.”

She does as I ask, and I ease her panties off. I press my cock against her, moving ever so slightly, and begin to slide into her wet folds.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” I tell her as I thrust into her. She cries out and reaches to steady herself against the wall. I take my time, moving in and out slowly until she starts meeting my thrusts.

“Do you want it hard?”

She looks at me over her shoulder and nods. I pull out of her, my gaze fixed on her blue eyes, which are filled with lust, desire, need, and love. She pulls her dress off and moves to the bed, beckoning me with her finger. I crawl on top of her and, suddenly and inexplicably nervous, start to tremble as I enter her. Kimberly’s fingers thread through my hair, tugging lightly. The deeper I go, the more I feel…the more this moment means.

“I love you,” I say to her as her lips turn up in a smile.

“I love you too,” she says.

And then she bucks her hips. That’s my sign to get the deed done. To bring my woman the pleasure we both desire.

We move in unison, as if we’ve done this a million times. Her hands, my lips, always where we need them. She moans and arches her back, causing me to go deeper. I flip us over and marvel at the gorgeous woman on top of me, bringing herself to ecstasy as her nails dig into my skin.

“Do you know how sexy you are?” I ask her as I palm her breasts.

“You make me feel this way. I have never…” She shakes her head and falls to my chest, letting me finish the job. My hips buck into her, and she screams out my name, a sound I’ll never tire of hearing.

We stay like this, our bodies soaked in sweat, until the sun goes down. When we finally dress, I stand behind her in the bathroom mirror and hold up her hand so she can see what her ring looks like, what others will see.

“Hearts will shatter when this hits the news,” she says with a laugh.

“I don’t care. You’re the only one that matters to me. The only one.”

As I watch her admire her ring, I think if it hadn’t been for coke, I wouldn’t ever have met her. What a bunch of dumb luck that is.

To my sister, Ashley: keep fighting

Acknowledgments

First and foremost I have to thank my agent, Marisa Corvisiero, for everything. There are no words to properly tell you how much I appreciate all your hard work.

Many thanks to my editor, Sue Grimshaw, for taking a chance on me.

To my family for being supportive and putting up with the long hours; thank you for giving me an opportunity to follow my dreams.

Leslie Dover—you are without a doubt one of the best people I know. My life would not be the same without you in it. Thank you for your friendship, for your support, and for taking a chance on Society X with me.

To my usual crew—your continued support means the world to me.

And to all my readers—you guys are the best. Thank you for everything.

BY HEIDI MCLAUGHLIN

Virtuous Paradox

Blow

Bang (coming soon)

The Beaumont Series

Forever My Girl

My Unexpected Forever

Finding My Forever

Finding My Way

My Kind of Forever

The Archer Brothers

Here with Me

Choose Me

Save Me

The Boys of Summer

Third Base

Home Run (coming soon)

Society X

Dark Room

Viewing Room

Play Room

Reality Series

Blind Reality

Twisted Reality

Standalone

Stripped Bare (coming soon)

PHOTO: SARA EIREW

HEIDI MCLAUGHLIN is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author. Originally from the Pacific Northwest, she now lives in picturesque Vermont with her husband and two daughters. Also renting space in their home is a hyper Beagle/Jack Russell, Buttercup, and a Highland West/Mini Schnauzer, Jill, plus her brother, Racicot. When Heidi isn’t writing, you’ll find her sitting courtside during one of her daughter’s basketball games.

Sign up for her newsletter at the website below.

heidimclaughlin.com

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Read on for an excerpt from

Necessary Evil

A Sentinels of Babylon Novel
by Jamie K. Schmidt

Available from Loveswept

Chapter 1

Lucy Simmons dozed on the train back to Babylon from a night out in Manhattan. She was happily boozed up, but a trickle of sadness seeped in. She missed her friends. She wished they could get together more than once a month for a night out. But they were scattered all over the New York metro area and their schedules were a nightmare.

Standing up as the train pulled into the station, she stretched and yawned so hard her jaw popped. She couldn’t wait to get out of the fancy underwear and club outfit; it was so different from what she wore in court, it might as well have been a Halloween costume. Lucy slung her oversized purse over her shoulder and watched the gap as she stepped onto the platform. Shivering in the night air, she wondered why it always seemed frigid after 2:00 a.m., even in the summertime.

Her heels made a clip-clop noise on the cement. The station was so deserted, it was spooky. A few of the lights were out as well, and she hurried to the back parking lot as fast as her stilettos would carry her. In hindsight, it was probably a dumb idea to come back so late, but she had been having so much fun she couldn’t bring herself to leave. She thumbed through her contacts on her phone to text her friends that she’d gotten home all right.

A shadow uncoiled from the side of the building, and before she could react, her purse was tugged off her shoulder. Her phone tumbled out of her hands and landed on the concrete with a crack.

“Shit.” Lucy yanked back reflexively on her purse handle, stumbling on her heels.

She let go when her attacker moved in with a knife. He was skinny and wore a ski mask with and ratty black gloves. The knife looked like something that would give Crocodile Dundee a hard-on.

“Take it,” Lucy said, raising her hands in surrender. She backed away, even as the man came closer. She should have had her keys in her hand, or even Mace. Instead she’d gotten caught texting like a teenager.

“I would have just taken it. But you had to fight me.” His smile was cruel. “That’s going to cost you, bitch.”

“Help!” she screamed, turning to run for her car. Maybe he’d just take her purse and leave her alone.

No such luck. He caught her by the arm and pulled her back.

“Asshole,” she raged, kicking him. The heel of her expensive shoe snapped. Lucy struggled as he tried to twist her arm behind her back. She kicked him with the other foot, but the only damage she did was to the strap on her shoe.

Just then two headlights flashed to life, one on each side of them. The loud roar of big piped motorcycles started up, sounding like dueling lions.

“Shit,” her mugger said, and took off running with her purse, hopping over barriers and weaving in and out of parked cars.

One of the motorcycles followed him. Lucy hobbled to her car as fast as her ruined shoes would carry her. Looking back over her shoulder, she saw that the other bike was slowly rolling toward her. The rider was a big man, his features hidden by his helmet.

“Help,” she yelled again, but there wasn’t anyone else around. She got to her car and tried the handle. Of course it was locked. The keys were in her purse. And that was fleeing with her mugger, who was being chased down a side street by someone from a motorcycle gang.

Pressing herself flat against her car door, she faced the biker head-on. Lucy kicked off her shoes. She wouldn’t be able to outrun the motorcycle, but maybe she could put up enough of a fight that it wouldn’t be worth it for him to bother with her. Her heart pounded as adrenaline fired through her system.

When the bike rolled to a stop alongside her, the light from the lamppost nearby gave her a good look at the bearded thug. He was all denim, leather, and muscles. She let out a frightened gasp. She didn’t have a chance.

As he reached up to take off his helmet, Lucy flinched and pressed closer against her car.

“You’re out late, Counselor.”

The familiar gravelly voice turned her knees to Jell-O in relief. Now that she recognized his face, she sagged against the car.

“Evan, what are you doing here?”

He tossed his helmet on the back of the bike. His honey-brown hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail, and a few strands hung in his eyes. He smiled at her, and she could swear that her knees wobbled again, but for a much different reason.

“The night’s just getting started for me.” Evan Villiers was an ex-cop who’d retired young to live the good life. For him, that meant opening a bar that specialized in cheap drinks and hot women. The Blue Line had the best happy hour on the Island.

“You scared the shit out of me,” she said, wheezing in air. Tears pricked at the corner of her eyes. She would not cry in front of him. That was all she needed, for it to get back to his old precinct that she’d been in tears. The detectives would never let her hear the end of it.

“Want to go for a ride?” He revved the bike.

“I want to call the cops,” Lucy said, her hands on her hips. “I can’t believe I got mugged. This used to be a nice neighborhood.”

“Still is.” He looked her up and down. “Seems a shame to waste that dress. Let me buy you a drink.”

That wasn’t the first time he’d asked her that question.

When he had been a cop and they’d faced off in court, her job had been to nail his procedures to the wall. She didn’t like letting assholes get off on technicalities any more than he had, but she hated when cops allowed that to happen due to sloppy casework. Evan would take it personally when one of his perps walked. He had cornered her in the elevator after one trial and banged his fist against the door in frustration.

“You know that asshole is going right back to selling drugs to kids. You have to know that.” He had whirled on her, his custom-made suit and his freshly shaven face doing nothing to civilize him. Evan was six-five and solid muscle. Looming over her in the small elevator car, he had oozed testosterone.

But she hadn’t been about to back down from a big guy, especially not in her courthouse. Lucy had jammed her finger into his chest and said, “Then you go out there and do it right next time, so that there won’t be a shadow of a damn doubt.”

“You know he’s guilty.”

“I don’t care. What I care about is that he gets a fair trial.”

Evan’s hands had clenched and unclenched. “I care about those kids that are overdosing from the shit he’s selling.”

“Then do your fucking job—”

He jerked back as if she’d slapped him.

“—and stop expecting me not to do mine.” It would have been a great exit line. But unfortunately, her office was in the basement, and the stupid elevator stopped on every floor. So Lucy had crossed her shaking arms over her chest and glared at the doors instead of looking at him.

Evan had studied her as if she was some strange insect he’d never seen before. It didn’t unnerve her. She’d sat across from hardened criminals as they took a shit in their jail cells. Let him look, she thought. When it was finally her floor, she allowed herself to relax.

“Want to go out for a drink sometime?” he’d asked as she got out.

He had left her gaping at him like a fish; she had half expected to hear him laugh as the elevator doors closed. But he hadn’t.

They never had gone out for that drink. Shortly after that incident, Evan took an early retirement. But not before he tagged the drug dealer again and this time got his conviction.

“The dress wasn’t wasted,” Lucy said now as he continued to smile at her with that sexy grin that made her want to make really bad choices. Lucy crossed her arms over her chest, but when his sultry green eyes warmed at how it pushed her cleavage up, she dropped her arms. “My phone!”

She hurried back to where she’d dropped it. Evan followed slowly, his headlight lighting the way.

“Stupid, cheap piece of shit.” Lucy bent to pick it up. The battery had sprung out and she couldn’t get it back in. The glass was shattered as well. “Can I use your phone?”

“No cops,” Evan said. “Sentinel will get your purse back.”

Sentinel was an army vet who co-owned The Blue Line. When he wasn’t bartending, he was working his way through most of the bar’s female patrons.

“Thank you,” she said, remembering her manners. “I mean that. If you guys hadn’t been here…” Lucy started to shake. She rubbed her bare arms, hoping he would think it was from the chilly night air.

“But we were,” he said. “Now, climb on the back of my bike and I’ll take you to my place. You can warm up and relax while we wait for your purse to come back.”

Lucy bit her lip. “I don’t want to be any trouble.”

“Sweetheart, in that dress you’re nothing but trouble.”

She scowled at him and stormed back to her car, where she’d left her shoes. Dumping the ruined mess of her cellphone on the hood, she pulled on her shoes. Evan waited patiently for her as if he just expected she would hop on the back of his bike.

She didn’t like guys with beards.

She didn’t like big thugs who solved problems with their fists.

She sighed. Who was she kidding?

“Look, I ain’t going anywhere without you,” Evan said, patting the seat behind him. “So you can lean against your cold car, or you can be comfortable on my couch.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. She’d been to his place before. It had been pretty memorable. “How comfortable?”

“As comfortable as you want.” He held out a hand. “Come on, honey. I’ll take you to your house if you want.”

Her shoulders slumped in defeat. “Can’t. My spare key is in the car.”

“Good place for it.” Evan smirked. “Put your foot on the footrest, then put your hands on my shoulder and swing your other leg across.”

“Are you sure I won’t tip the bike?” Lucy didn’t think she could take any more humiliation.

He laughed. “I’m sure.”

She hiked up her cute little dress and did what he said. After she’d settled into the seat, she tugged it down and wriggled to get comfortable.

“Counselor, are you wearing a garter belt?” He handed her his helmet, and she felt herself blush at the twinkle in his eye. Mortification flooded her, and she pressed her forehead to the center of his back. “Maybe,” she muttered.

“Hold on to me tight. And be careful your legs don’t touch the chrome. It’s hot and you might get burned. Fact is, you could probably wrap them around my waist—”

“Not going to happen, Evan,” she said, tugging on the helmet. “Drive slow.”

“Not going to happen, Lucy,” he replied, mimicking her tone.

When he took off with an enormous snarl of his engine, she hugged him as though her life depended on it. Lucy wished she could enjoy the ride, but she was freezing and still shaking with reaction. Still, it felt good to hold on to something solid, and clutching Evan’s wide chest was almost like hugging him. Closing her eyes, she squeezed him tighter. He had saved her, and she was pretty sure he didn’t even like her that much.

Evan pulled into the parking lot of his bar, The Blue Line. Last call had been almost an hour ago, so Lucy didn’t think she’d run into anyone she knew. His apartment was on the second floor. She had been there once, almost two years ago.

Oh God, don’t think about that night now. Or about kissing him again.

She winced at the memory, and she was glad he couldn’t see her face.

He parked the bike and said, “Okay, get off the same way you got on, but in reverse.”

“Don’t look at my stockings,” she warned.

“I won’t.”

He lied. He was completely ogling her legs. “I like the lace tops,” he growled in a husky voice. It unnerved her, and her leg brushed the tailpipe as she climbed off.

“Shit,” she hissed when she felt the quick flash of pain.

“You all right?” Evan uncoiled from the bike and stretched, the white T-shirt he wore sliding up to show a tanned and taut stomach. His black leather jacket crinkled as it settled on his wide shoulders. He looked like a hot fudge sin sundae with a cherry on top. Lucy licked her lips before realizing she had done so. He was wearing faded blue jeans with leather chaps. His worn leather boots were adorned with chains—and ankle holsters, she noted with alarm. After leaving the force, he had let his hair grow out and gotten more tattoos. It made him even more dangerous-looking.

“Yeah. I just burned my leg.”

“Let me see.”

She slapped his hands as he went for her skirt. Evan frowned at her, and she realized he wasn’t being fresh. “I’m fine,” she said.

“Let’s go upstairs. I want to make sure that doesn’t blister.”

Lucy wanted to grumble, but he was being so nice about everything that it made her feel churlish. They went in through the back of the bar and took a rickety set of stairs up to his apartment.

“What are you drinking?” he asked.

Her stomach protested at the thought of more alcohol. “Water. I’m a little dehydrated.”

She collapsed on the couch and winced in pain. That burn really hurt. Evan handed her a large glass of ice water and she drank half of it immediately. “Thanks,” she said as he left the room.

He came back moments later with some gauze and hydrogen peroxide.

“It’s not that bad,” she said, standing up.

Evan pushed her back down. “Don’t be a baby.”

“I’m not,” she grumbled.

“Let me see it,” he said, kneeling between her legs.

Hitching up her skirt, Lucy looked over his head. I will not be embarrassed.

His fingers were gentle as he spread her thighs apart.

I will not think naughty thoughts.

“You got lucky,” he said. “Looks like it’s just a first-degree burn. No blisters.”

Lucy nodded, unable to speak. She took another sip of water because her throat was suddenly dry.

“Did I mention I like the lace tops of your stockings?” He tickled a finger over them.

“Evan,” she warned, but it came out shaky.

They stared at each other, and the silence was flammable. She could sense the heat of his body and wanted to snuggle against him. But she had a feeling he wasn’t the cuddling kind. He was more the nail-you-against-the-wall kind.

Lucy was so damned tempted.

He got back to his feet in a quick, lithe movement that belied his size, and the spell between them was broken. Coming back with a cold compress, he handed it to her. “Cool it down with that and then we’ll put some aloe vera gel on it.”

“You seem pretty stocked up for this.”

Evan shrugged. “Burns happen.”

Lucy awkwardly pressed the cold washcloth to her leg, and she had to admit it did feel better. Evan got himself a beer out of the fridge and leaned against the doorway to the kitchen, looking at her as though she was a puzzle he had to figure out.

“What were you guys doing out by the train station so late?” she asked.

“Patrolling.”

Lucy shook her head. “I thought you’d had enough of that when you were a cop.”

He shrugged. “It’s necessary.”

“Do you do that every night?”

“Off and on,” he said. His phone rang, and he picked it up without taking his gaze from her. “Good. Drive it over here.” He hung up and slid his phone back into his pocket. “Got your purse back. Warden is going to bring your car over.”

Warden, as his name implied, used to work in the prison system. Lucy didn’t know him well, but she had seen him around the bar a few times.

“Wow, that was quick.” Lucy wondered if these guys ever slept. “That’s so nice of him. Do you need me to go down to the station house and make a statement?”

Evan gave a short laugh. “No. I told you. No cops.”

“What’s going to happen to the mugger?” Lucy couldn’t figure Evan out. He was just going to let the guy go?

“Don’t worry about it. He won’t be bothering anyone for a long time.”

“Evan,” she said warningly, “what did you do to him?”

“Nothing,” he said, and snagged the bottle of aloe vera off a shelf. “I was here with you the whole time.”

This time when he sank to his knees in front of her, she couldn’t kid herself into thinking there wasn’t any spark between them. He pushed her knees apart, and when she looked down at his hands, she jumped and bit back a scream.

He frowned. “Did I hurt you?”

Her heart was galloping in her chest. “I forgot about your tattoo,” she said through gritted teeth.

The tattoo was a very lifelike black widow spider. She abhorred spiders. They terrified her. Seeing that tattoo was like dunking her entire body in ice water. One frightening—silly, really—experience when she was a kid had, over the years, become an embarrassing but real fear she couldn’t shake.

“You ever think about getting a tat, Counselor?” He eased between her legs and poured some gel over his fingers.

She began to speak, but flinched for a second when the gel touched the burned area. On the second try she got out, “What makes you think I don’t have one?”

He snorted. “You? You’re too straitlaced, even if you are wearing a garter belt and silk stockings. Who were they for?” Evan’s face closed down into a scowl, but his fingers were still gentle.

“No one,” she said, pushing her skirt down and his fingers away.

He reluctantly swayed back and pulled her to her feet with him. “Why don’t I believe you?”

Lucy shrugged. “You’ve got a suspicious nature, I guess.”

“Where were you tonight?”

He acted like he had the right to know that information. She could have busted his balls about it, but she owed him for rescuing her and then taking care of her.

“I met some friends in the city. We went to some clubs.” Lucy shrugged, feeling a little self-conscious.

“I bet you were a big hit on the dance floor.” He stepped in closer and pulled her against him. “Want to dance with me?”

Boy, did she.

“You still in the market for an FWB?” she asked.

He nodded.

“That’s not me.” While Lucy thought friends with benefits sounded fun, she knew she’d regret it. She just couldn’t do casual. She wasn’t wired that way.

“It feels like it could be you.” Evan rubbed her back.

She laid her head on his chest. “I’m not what you’re looking for.” Lucy echoed the words he’d said to her two years ago.

“Maybe you are.”

Lucy refused to consider just what that could mean. Right now she just needed his mouth on hers because it had been so long and her imagination was probably blowing the memory of his kiss out of proportion. His beard had filled out since his retirement party, and she wondered if it would be soft or raspy.

Standing on her tiptoes, she stretched up to meet his lips.

Oh hell. Her imagination had forgotten a lot.

Lucy had expected the tingles down to her toes, but she was blown away by the sweetness of his mouth moving over hers. As she clung to him, he went to her head faster than eighteen-year-old Glenfiddich.

“Evil!” Fists pounded against his door. “Do a body shot off me,” an obviously drunk woman catcalled through the closed door.

Wrenching herself out of his arms, Lucy had a terrible sense of déjà vu. Right. This was why it was a bad idea.

Evan stalked to the door and flung it open. “Get the fuck out of here,” he growled at two giggling women.

“Whoopsie.” One woman finger waved at Lucy, while the other one pulled her friend back downstairs.

Lucy looked everywhere but at Evan. “Seems to me you have the FWBs lining up.”

“They’re not friends,” he said.

“I’ll just wait outside.” Lucy had to get out of here before he charmed her out of her panties. “You don’t have to come out with me.”

“I’d hate to have to rescue you two times in one night. You’ve got a FUCK ME sign around your neck in that dress.”

She gave him the finger. “Fuck you.”

He followed her down the stairs. “Nothing I’d rather be doing.”

“Not even body shots off a toned stomach?” Lucy could have cursed the bitchiness that she couldn’t stop coming out of her mouth. She had no right to judge. No right to feel the slightest bit jealous.

“You offering?”

She’d asked for that one.

After about five tense minutes of silence, Lucy was relieved to see her car pulling into the parking lot. Warden climbed out of it and tossed her the keys.

“Your purse is on the front seat,” he said.

“Thank you,” she said. “Where’s Sentinel? I want to thank him too.”

Warden and Evan exchanged a glance.

“He had another engagement.” Warden nodded at her and let himself in the back door of the bar. While the door was open, Lucy could see that there was a private party going on in the bar; evidently the body shot girls had found another taker.

“Oh,” Lucy said faintly. She wanted to ask again what happened to the mugger, but a warning voice in her head told her to drop it.

“I’ll see you around, Counselor.” Evan leaned in close and brushed a kiss across her temple before heading back into the bar to join the party.

Love stories you’ll never forget

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