Page 83 of More For Me

I’ll just have to find him,I tell myself.Wherever he is, I’ll find him.

The universe must be on my side today because Bodhi’s Jeep is in the driveway. I let out a sigh of relief and pull my car up next to his.

My heart is pounding hard as I run into the house, fear and eagerness mixing in my belly. The downstairs is dark and empty, so I take the stairs two at a time, stopping short when I get to the top. The light is on in Bodhi’s room, the door open. I can hear the faint sound of music drifting down the hall. He’s in there.

My fear doubles as I walk down the hall.You’re doing this for him, not you, I remind myself.He needs to know how much you regret—

I freeze when I can see into his room. Bodhi is there, standing in front of his mirror as he combs his thick hair back away from his face, just the way I like best on him. That’s not what has my blood running cold though.

Bodhi is dressed to go out.

He’s wearing almost the same thing he did that night my cousins tricked us into having dinner together. This time his slacks are navy but the white button down is the same. He’s even rolled up the sleeves like he did that night.

He must sense me standing there staring at him like a creeper, because he looks up. There’s a split second where that Bodhi brightness shines through, but he dampens it almost immediately, a wall coming up to cover his face. “Hey.”

“Hi, Bodhi,” I whisper, voice raspy. I clear my throat. “You look nice.”

He won’t meet my eye. “Thanks.”

“Bodhi, I’m so sorry,” I blurt out. I’d tried to plan out the best way to do this in the car, but nothing came to me. Might as well just get it out there. “Saying that I didn’t remember was terrible and—”

He holds up a hand. “It’s okay, Lele.”

“It’s not.” I try to tamp down the tears that are threatening. “I was just...I just got scared and—” I shake my head. Why am I screwing this up so much?

“I know,” he says, his voice more gentle, and he actually meets my gaze now. His eyes are still guarded, but there’s a hint of the warmth I’m used to from him. “I get it. Really.”

Relief crashes into me. “You do?”

“Sure. You regretted what happened and you panicked.”

Wait. That’s not what happened. Is it?

“I didn’t say I regretted it.”

“But you obviously did.” His jaw clenches. “I don’t think you’ve ever lied to me about anything before. You must have really been freaking out.”

“I did lie,” I whisper, hating that tight clench of his jaw. He might say it’s okay and he might say he gets it, but he’s hurt. And I did that. “I’m so, so sorry I lied to you, Bodhi. I have no idea why I did that.”

He’s quiet for a moment, studying my face. Finally, he turns to the mirror and goes back to his hair. “It was an emotional night,” he says. “We were both drinking. It’s perfectly understandable to not know what to do with all that in the morning.” He meets my eye in the mirror and gives me a small smile. “Don’t worry. We don’t need to talk about it anymore.”

This doesn’t feel right. I don’t know how I was expecting him to react but this calm resignation seems off. He’s clearly more upset than he’s letting on right now—why else would he have stayed somewhere else all week?

“I want you to come back home,” I blurt out.

He raises his eyebrows. “Am I not home right now?”

“That’s not what I mean. I want you to stay at home. I hate that you felt like you couldn’t come back here.”

He shrugs, but his jaw has gone tight again. “I figured you wanted some space from me.”

God, this entire conversation seems wrong. I’ve never not known how to talk to Bodhi, but I can’t figure out how to express all the swirling thoughts in my head. “I don’t want space from you. This is your home. You should be staying here. I just want…I want things to go back to how they were.”

Something crosses his face but it passes so quickly I can’t identify it. He sets his brush down on the dresser and turns away from the mirror, but he doesn’t look at me. “Don’t worry, Everly. I’m staying here. Everything will go back to how it was.”

I should feel relieved, but I don’t. “Bodhi—”

“Look, can we continue this later?” He roots around on his dresser until he finds his wallet. He slips it into his back pocket—God, those charcoal pants look good on him. “I’m running late.”