Page 35 of Incomplete
I didn’t press him further. I wanted him to feel comfortable in the place he’d just divulged he held close to his heart.
He startled me when he quickly sat up and popped the lid on the cooler.
“Would you like a vodka cooler or beer?”
“Beer, please.”
While I slouched back, nestled amongst the pillows, Boden stayed upright, with his legs bent and spread wide, with his arms resting over his knees for support. After a few swigs, his shoulders relaxed, and he found his voice, thus opening the door to share a part of himself with me.
“I caught my first fish over there.”
I followed his line of sight off to the left.
“I remember hating that my mom always wanted to take photos or film the silliest little things we did.” He sighed. “But now . . . now, I wish I could take back all the attitude I dished out because those memories she helped document are all Brooke and I have left.” The timbre of his voice splintered, and the air around us thickened. “I was four when my dad helped me put my first worm on a hook and taught me how to cast a line out. Yes, I was too young to really remember it, but when I watch our home movies, I can feel his words in my chest, and it feels like it was just yesterday he was here. He’d say,‘You caught a fishy, Bo, great job. Look at this guy, he’s about your size.’”
Boden’s shoulders vibrated with the sweet sound of genuine laughter.
“God, he was the best dad. He always made time for my sister, my mom, and me. He never missed a practice, game, recital, or chance to pass on the words of wisdom. But this land here was my parent’s favorite place to bring us for years before I hit my teens and my responsibilities with school and extra-curriculars increased, and friends became my life. My mom insisted on family dinners twice weekly so we could catch up. Brooke was younger, so she wasn’t affected, but attendance was mandatory for me. Sometimes, we’d pack up the car and come out here, bring a portable grill, barbeque, swim, fish, and make s’mores. He tilted his head back and swallowed down his darkened ale. “Sutton River is a small place, everyone knows everyone but drive a little outside of the city and it . . . this is where I feel closest to my parents. It was our family’s slice of heaven. No one ever bothered us, and we had free rein because the land belonged to a family friend.”
“I’m—” Not sure what to say. His relationship with his parents was completely foreign to me, but the pain in his tone was palpable and gutted me to the core. “Thank you for sharing this piece of you with me.”
Boden pressed his lips together and looked deep in thought as he stared into the night sky.
“Is this place still owned by the same people?”
“No.”
“Does that mean we are trespassing?”
“It’s mine, I own it. I approached Elliot a few years ago with a proposal. His place is a five-minute drive from here, and as he ages, the need for all this acreage isn’t really appealing or something he can keep maintaining. Thankfully, it was a slam dunk. He knew what the property meant to Brooke and me, and subdividing it made mathematical sense for him.”
“That’s amazing. Will either of you build here? I mean, you clearly have the skill set.”
“I do . . . this is my future. This is where I want to build my forever home one day.”
“One day? What’s holding you back? If you need help with creating architectural drawings, a friend of mine—Jenna—that’s her area of expertise. I could always put you in contact with her.”
“Good to know.” He nodded solemnly.
“But.”
“The timing isn’t right.”
“If I’ve learned anything over the past year, it’s that tomorrow isn’t always promised. Don’t wait, Boden. If it’s your dream, your future, then you need to make it happen.”
A sense of sadness flanked his expression.
I got the feeling that Boden put his life on hold to raise his sister, but she was older now, married even. It made me question why he hadn’t been snapped up and locked down because he checked all the boxes from where I sat. He had a good head on his shoulders and was career-driven, business savvy, caring, and compassionate.
Nothing about him raised a single red flag, and trust me, I was on hyper-alert.
“Okay, we’ve gotten totally sidetracked. This wasn’t my intention when I brought you out here. I didn’t mean to pour my heart out and look like a sap.”
“Gosh, no, Boden, I’m . . . I’m thankful you shared as much as you did. Being here with you, listening, and sharing is comfortable. I’ve told you my life has been a hellish roller coaster as of late, and moving here for a fresh start when I knew absolutely no one was terrifying but you, you’ve made it bearable. You’ve shown me that compassion for another does exist, so please, you have nothing to apologize for.”
With any new friendship or relationship, there was always a get-to-know-you stage, and in my past experience, it had always been awkward, but not with Boden. There was an effortless vibe, a familiarity of sorts.
“So, shifting gears, what movie did you plan to feature tonight?”
