Bodhi is it for me. He was the part I always felt was missing, what I searched for, never feeling satisfied or content without it. The broken piece of him fits perfectly with the broken piece of me, and there is something to be said about two people being able to love through their tears, through their heartache, through the mess that is life.
“I love you.” The three words are spoken like a prayer against Bodhi’s lips. I’ve never meant anything more than this.
“I love you,” he breathes, a grin sliding into place as he runs his fingers through the hair at my nape.
“Uh, the door was open, so I just walked in.”
Bodhi and I look over my shoulder at the same time, my gaze landing on someone I didn’t expect to see. Turning to face the entrance to the kitchen, I stay put between Bodhi’s thighs as I rest against the counter. “Hey… this is a surprise.”
Ryan runs a hand through his dark blond hair as he stands awkwardly with his other hand stuffed into the pocket of his jeans. He glances over my shoulder, presumably at Bodhi, before nodding. “Bodhi, uh, let me know y’all were moving here this weekend and said I should stop by to say hi.”
“He did, huh?” I smirk, peering over my shoulder to find a sheepish Bodhi watching me.
Ryan was drafted into the NFL by a North Carolina team, so he also lives here in Charlotte. We’ve talked here and there since he found out about me and Bodhi, but it hasn’t been anywhere near where I’d wanted it to be. I’d hoped moving here, we’d be able to mend our relationship and try to move forward, but a big part of me didn’t think we’d be able to.
Bodhi knows this.
“Yeah.” Ryan shifts from one foot to the other. “Figured since we’re both living here now, I could give you these.” Pulling his hand out of his pocket, he crosses the room, handing me a white envelope.
“What is this?”
“Well, open it and see.” Ryan chuckles a little as Bodhi’s hand fists the side of my shirt in silent support.
I hate the tremble to my hands as I peel open the lip of this envelope. My eyes widen when I get a look at the contents inside, my gaze snapping to meet Ryan’s. “A season ticket?”
“Two.” He clears his throat. “Figured if you guys wanted to come to the home games, you’re more than welcome to.”
I’m stunned silent. This is the first olive-branch he’s ever given me, and it’s a big one. “I-I don’t know what to say, son.”
“It’s not a big deal,” he murmurs with a shrug. Looking around, he adds, “This place is nice.”
“Thanks. Uh, you want to stay for lunch? I can order us some pizza.”
Ryan’s gaze bounces between me and Bodhi. “Sure. Let me go grab my phone from the car while you order.”
As he leaves the kitchen, I turn to face Bodhi. “Someone is sneaky, pretty boy.”
He huffs out a laugh. “It’s the least I could do. I know how much fixing your relationship with Ryan has been weighing on you, and had the shoe been on the other foot, you would’ve done the same in a heartbeat.”
My chest swells as tears prick the back of my eyes. Bodhi never ceases to amaze me. Leaning forward, he seals his lips to mine in a quick kiss.
“Don’t make it a big deal.” He smiles. “Order us some lunch.”
So, I do.
And when Ryan comes back inside, we show him around. It’s a little uncomfortable, but not unbearable. I don’t have a clue where this will go, or if it’ll go anywhere at all. But all I can do at this point is try. And hope. I can’t force a relationship with my son, but if he’s willing to have one, then so am I.
Bodhi’s Epilogue
One Year Later
Public speaking has always made me nervous. That’s never changed, even when it’s in front of a room of people I’ve spent the last year getting to know. So, with trembling legs, a racing heart, and sweat lining the back of my neck, I stand, making my way to the podium in the front of the room.
Since coming back from Blackwood Ranch a year and some odd months ago, I not only started going to regular therapy once a week, but I also found a group therapy in Charlotte that I also attend weekly. Like Blackwood, it’s a group for adolescents and adults with eating and co-occurring disorders. It’s a place where I’ve learned I can be open, a place I’ve continued to heal, and it’s a place I truly think I’ve been able to help people too.
We were all asked to write a letter to our younger selves last week, and today I’m reading mine in front of the group. This group session today is a little different from most; we were allowed to invite family if we wanted to. Of course, none of my blood family is here, but the tall, brute of a man sitting in the back row with his chocolate brown eyes zeroed in on me and the two guys who have never failed to be there for me sitting on opposite sides of him are all the family I need.
Standing in front of the podium, I set my letter down, looking out at the group. “Forgive me if I trip over any of my words. Public speaking isn’t my forte.” I laugh, finding Jules’s supportive gaze and the subtle nod of his head, letting me know he’s here for me.
