What I didn’t know, however, was that Ryan was actually flying inthatnight, a day early, to meet up with an old friend from high school… at that same hotel. As luck would have it, he saw me leaving the room with another man, and it didn’t take a genius to put together what had just happened.
It made for one hell of a tense Christmas.
I can count on one hand the number of times we’ve spoken since that night.
My marriage, from the outside, looked pretty perfect back then. And it was… in its own way. I’ve never beenunhappywith Lorelei, I just had needs she couldn’t meet. I’ve always appreciated her and her understanding of me. From very early on in our marriage, she was well aware of my proclivities toward men, and she was happy to open our marriage to let me fulfill that part of me. Ryan, of course, had no way of knowing that because that isn’t the type of thing you share with your child, so seeing it right in front of his face was a shock, I’m sure.
Never did I expect it to be the end of our relationship, though.
Grabbing my phone out of my pocket, I find his contact, deciding it’s worth a shot to at least try to tell him I’m going there. Maybe, just maybe, he’ll agree to meet up with me. It rings twice before his voicemail picks up. He rejected the call. I leave a message, even though I know he won’t return the call before draining the rest of the contents in my glass and pouring another.
An indescribable ache buries itself behind my ribs, clutching on for dear life, while simultaneously draining the light from my being. The pain and soul-sucking heartache that comes from not speaking to your own child is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. It’s something I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy.
It isn’t often that I look back on what’s happened in this family and wonder how I could’ve done things differently, and how things would be now if I had, because the truth of the matter is, I can’t change the past. I can’t take anything back. So, wishing and daydreaming I could isn’t getting me anywhere other than drowning in hopelessness.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I pull his contact up once more. A last-ditch effort.
Me: Hi, son. I’m going to be near LA from Friday until Sunday night this week. I’d love it if we could meet up. Maybe grab dinner and catch up. I miss you and love you. Give me a call back if you think you’d be okay with that.
Hitting send, I get up, deciding that getting shitty drunk on a work night probably isn’t the smartest move. I put the whiskey back in the cupboard, the glass in the dishwasher, and I haul my ass back upstairs to take a hot shower before bed. Bodhi reenters my mind during the process, taking center stage once again, and I can’t help but feel an overwhelming urge to see him too.
I’ve always been careful, smart, mindful of being discreet. If the Officer Montgomery situation has solidified anything for me, it’s how fragile a public image can be. It reminded me how I can’t afford to be reckless. But something about Bodhi has me wanting to say to hell with it all. He makes me want to be careless.
Making out with him in the middle of a parking lot where anyone could’ve seen us. Approaching him in the bathroom the way that I did, because while yes, I locked the door, anybody could’ve tried to come in. Hell, hisdatecould’ve. It’s a dangerous line I’m walking with Bodhi, but I can’t seem to care. There’s something about him.
I tried setting up another meeting with him through Giselle the other day, and she told me he’s taking limited clients right now due to his school schedule. It’s infuriating because he’s clearly seeing clients… just not me.
Deep down, I know I should let it go. I should listen to Bodhi and move on. If this was any other situation, and any other person, I would cut my losses and walk away with my pride still intact.
But this isn’t any other situation, and Bodhi isn’t any other person. He’s someone worth fighting for. He’s someone worth the effort.
His heart is an indestructible brick wall.
I want to change that.
And I will.
Chapter Seventeen
Bodhi King
My mind is all over the place lately. I’m ninety-eight percent sure I just failed my biology exam. Halfway through the test, I blanked—completely forgot every single thing I’ve learned so far this semester and everything I spent the last few days studying. Forcing myself to sit down and study was about the hardest thing I could’ve done, too. My drive lately has been nonexistent. Every little thing is such a task.
Slinging my backpack over my shoulder, I walk down the stairs in the classroom, and right before I can sneak out the door, my professor speaks up.
“Bodhi, can I talk to you for a moment, please?”
Professor Kline is a great professor and a nice enough woman. Normally, I wouldn’t mind staying and talking with her. Except this time, I just want to get out of here and go home. I’m not sleeping well; my mind can’t seem to shut off most nights.
Walking over, I stop in front of her desk. “What’s up?”
“Bodhi, is everything okay with you?”
My brows pinch at her question. “Yeah, I’m fine. Why do you ask?”
She couldn’t possibly know I failed the exam. I just finished it.
“I’ve noticed you’ve been a little withdrawn lately. Quieter. And the quality of your work seems to have declined, which is unlike you.”
