Page 50 of More For Me

“You should probably go,” he mutters, but doesn’t pull away from my hand. “Seriously, Lele. I appreciate your concern but you don’t need to be here.”

He finally looks up at me and I want to cry at how blank his eyes have become. And then I want to cry even more when I see him fix a totally false smile to his face. “We’ll hang out later, okay?” he says, in a pretty good imitation of his usual, charming, easy-going Bodhi voice. But I know him too well.

“I’m not leaving.”

He opens his mouth to argue but I cut him off. “If I was sitting in a car, looking the way you look right now, there’s nothing in the universe that could make you leave me.”

He blinks up at me, surprised.

“I don’t know what has you hurting like this, Bodhi, and you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. But I’m not leaving you. If tonight is going to be hard, I’ll sit there with you through all the hard.”

“Everly,” he whispers, pain twisting his features. “I don’t want to go in there by myself.”

“You’re not,” I say fiercely. “Didn’t we already establish that I’m going with you?”

He gives me a ghost of a smile and reaches up to take my hand from his face. He entwines our fingers, squeezing them tight. “It’s going to be okay, Bodhi.” Of course, I don’t actually know that. I have no idea what’s going on with him or his family. But I can’t conceive of a world where Bodhi isn’t okay. So I have to believe it.

He takes a deep breath, seeming to gather himself, and the next time he speaks he sounds a little more together. “You shouldn’t walk in there completely clueless. I need to tell you what—”

“Beta?” a voice calls from the house, and our heads both snap in that direction. His mother is standing on the porch, and my breath catches at the sight of her, at how different she looks.

Bodhi’s mother is gorgeous. She has his same coloring, same dark eyes and thick black hair that she wears in a long braid down her back. She’s also sweet and funny and thinks the world revolves around her son. Looking at her, it’s easy to understand how Bodhi turned out the way he did—all warmth and smiles and kindness.

But I don’t see any of that in her right now. It’s not that much has changed about her physical appearance—her braid looks smooth and neat, her trousers and blouse as stylish and put together as what she usually wears—but somehow everything about her seems different. Her shoulders are hunched, head lowered, like she’s purposefully trying to make herself smaller. Even from this distance I can see how red her eyes are. She looks a lot like Bodhi had looked at the dining table earlier. Dazed. Lost.

But then she realizes that I’m there, and her shoulders ease, her face lighting. “Everly! Sweetheart, I had no idea you’d be coming.”

“I’m sorry to barge in, Mrs. Lakra,” I call, but she waves her hands, and starts down the steps.

“Don’t be silly. You come over any time you want.”

“Ammi, you don’t need to activate the welcoming committee,” Bodhi calls when she reaches the bottom of the steps. “You’re not wearing shoes.”

She looks down at her feet, almost like she’s confused, and some of that dazed sadness seems to return to her. He lets out a sigh and reaches over to grab a bakery box and what looks like a leather-bound book from the passenger seat before climbing out of the Jeep.

But when his feet hit the pavement, something seems to shift in him. His shoulders straighten, his head comes up. All the blank darkness I saw in his eyes disappears. He looks more like Bodhi now—easy, light, handsome. But all I can think is how jarring it is, watching him change right in front of me.

I follow him to the steps and he wraps his mother in a one-armed hug. She holds on just a few seconds longer than usual, and her knuckles are white as she grips the back of his dress shirt. When he releases her, she turns to me, eyes bright in spite of their redness, and holds out her arms for a hug. I’m pretty sure she’s trembling when I squeeze her.

“It’s so nice of you to come,” she says, patting my cheek once she’s pulled away. “I’m so pleased Bodhi has such a good friend, to keep him company tonight.”

I feel like an idiot, having zero clue what I’m walking into, but I try to keep a smile on my face. “I’m glad to be here.”

“Bodhi Uncle!” a voice calls, then a little body comes hurtling onto the porch and crashes into Bodhi’s legs. “Did you bring the dessert?”

Bodhi laughs, grabbing the kid under his shoulders and pulling him up into his arms. My heart gives a little wobble at the sight of Bodhi holding his nephew, Ravi. The kid looks a lot like him, blessed with Bodhi’s melty chocolate eyes and those ridiculous eyelashes. Ravi also adores his uncle, and Bodhi loves him (and his older brother) right back.

“Why are we all out on the porch?” Nisha calls, sticking her head through the door. “Everly!” she’s clearly surprised to see me, and her eyes dart over to her brother. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

But she looks more worried than glad, and I have no idea why.

We all move into the foyer. Zayne, Bodhi’s oldest nephew, is hiding behind his mother’s legs. At six, he’s a good deal more shy than his younger brother, but really smart and funny once you get him out of his shell. His face lights up when he sees me, and I lean down for a hug.

“Come into the living room, come, come,” Mrs. Lakra says, moving into hostess mode. “What can I get you, Everly? Tea? Coffee?” She gestures at Nisha’s husband, Dev, who’s sitting on the couch reading the paper. “Would you like a cocktail? Dev can make you anything.”

He looks up from his paper and meets my eyes. “You probably want one,” he says drily.

“Oh, hush,” Mrs. Lakra says. “We’re going to have a lovely dinner.” She turns to me. “Nisha brought so much food from Angelina’s, this house will smell like garlic for weeks.” Her face clouds. “Maybe I should have cooked. If I had known you were coming…”