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replied emphatically.
    “Do you think he knew that he could come to you if he wanted to, and you would move heaven and hell to help him?”
    Bryan paused, but then finally had to admit to himself that Brodie had to have known that he would not let him down. “Yes,” he murmured reluctantly, not at all happy with the direction Callie seemed to be taking.
    “So, if he knew help was available and didn’t use it, what do you think that means?”
    Bryan stared at her, not wanting to acknowledge Brodie’s complicity in his own death.
    Callie softened her tone. “He obviously didn’t want help. I don’t know that much about addiction, but I do know that you have to want help. You have to do that for yourself, sweetie,” she murmured softly. Her voice, though barely above a whisper, resonated with tenderness and compassion. “No one can do that for you.”
    Bryan still didn’t respond, so Callie asked another question. “Bryan, how did you find out that Brodie was using?”
    Bryan leaned back until he was prone on the ground, his knees still bent, his arms stretched above his head. He seemed to reflect for a moment, then gave a heavy sigh. “You know, like I told you, we all were using stuff in the beginning.” Callie nodded. “Then Brodie and I moved to B.T.’s house, and his wife Maria didn’t put up with it, so we stopped.” His mouth curved into a shadow of a smile as he recalled Maria’s reaction when she located their stash of marijuana. She’d stormed through the house with all the force of a Valkyrie. There had been hell to pay that night, and they’d never dared try that again. Somehow, recalling the horror of watching her flush two weeks’ pay had quelled any desire they might have had to attempt smoking in the house again. He hadn’t seen Maria that angry before or since, but he was eternally grateful for her intervention. He continued the story. “I mean, we still drank beer and smoked weed, when we could get away with it, but it wasn’t a regular thing anymore. We hooked up with Jon, and then a little later we met Twist. After that, we worked so hard we didn’t have time to party anyway. I was okay with that, but now, looking back, I don’t think Brodie was. Then we hit big with our second album. We moved out of B.T.’s house and lived together for a while. Brodie would go on these incredible binges. After a while I couldn’t hang with the constant partying and moved out. But Brodie and I still spent most of our time together. At first Brodie was on coke. I tried it once, but I really didn’t like it.”
    Callie interrupted, fascinated by what she was hearing. Since she’d never tried any illegal drugs, she was curious. “Why didn’t you like it?”
    Bryan wiped his hands over his face. “It was just too good, you know? I mean, the moment I came down, all I could think about was how badly I wanted it again. That scared the crap out of me, and I didn’t want to use it again. Brodie did, though. I mean, this was the early nineties, everybody was using something. Me and the other guys pretty much left it alone five or six years ago. For me, having a life where I could write and play my music and have people actually pay money to hear it was more than enough of a high. All I ever wanted was to play music, have enough money to pay my rent and buy CDs. Storm Crow gave me all that and more than I ever thought possible. Hell, I actually own a house. Never in a million years did I ever think that would happen. I didn’t need to get high anymore. I guess I grew up or something. I don’t know. I knew Brodie was still using occasionally. I’d see him sometimes and he’d be really wasted, but I didn’t worry too much about it. He seemed okay with just using it for partying. He was still able to function at that point. I didn’t know how bad it had gotten until about a year or so ago.”
    “What happened?” Callie was wide-eyed as she tried take it all in.
    Bryan took another tremulous