Chapter 39
Bodie
By the time I finally gave up lurking like some kind of creeper down the street from Adalyn’s place, the sky had gone full dark.
Porch lights glowed across town like scattered stars, moths drunk on light smacking themselves silly against the yellow bulbs, and the crickets had struck up their relentless nighttime chorus that seemed to echo the restless rhythm hammering in my chest. I’d sat there in my truck with Rubble panting in the passenger seat, waiting, watching, hoping for the faintest glimpse of Emmaline through those damn curtains—a shadow moving past the window, the flicker of a lamp being turned on, anything to prove she was really there as Adalyn had said.
Nothing. Not a shadow, not a sound, not even the glow of a phone screen.
Just me acting like a damn stalker, sweating through my uniform shirt despite the evening chill.
The longer I sat there, the more pathetic I felt.
This wasn’t me. I didn’t chase women down dark streets or lurk outside houses like some lovesick teenager.
But Emmaline had always been the exception to every rule I’d ever made for myself, and apparently that included relinquishing whatever dignity I had left.
So I drove home, stomach tied in knots that pulled tighter with every mile, pulse hammering like I’d run a marathon instead of just sat there thinking myself into a hole deep enough to bury what was left of my sanity.
Colter was waiting on the porch, sitting on the top step with a six-pack beside him like he had all the time in the world, his massive bear of a dog, Ludo, stretched out at his feet like a furry mountain.
The sight of him there, patient as stone, told me everything about how obvious my desperation had become.
I killed the engine and climbed out, legs stiff from sitting too long, and sprang Rubble from the cab. She immediately bounded over to greet Ludo with the kind of enthusiasm that made me wonder what it would be like to be that uncomplicated about affection.
“You find her?” Colter asked, though the fact that he was here at all was proof enough he already suspected the answer.
I scrubbed a hand down my face. “She’s at Adalyn’s. Spending the night.” The words tasted like defeat, bitter and metallic on my tongue.
He nodded, slow and understanding, then reached into the six-pack and held one out. The condensation on the bottle caught the porch light, and I found myself staring at it like it might hold answers. “Beer?”
I took it, mostly to have something in my hands that wasn’t shaking.
Popped the top with more force than necessary and let the sharp hiss fill the silence that stretched between us like a wire about to snap.
I didn’t drink it, though. My throat was too tight, my stomach too churned up to handle anything right now.
Ludo roused himself enough for a game of chase as I dropped onto the step beside my brother, the old boards creaking under our combined weight.
We sat in companionable silence for a few minutes, watching our dogs joyfully wrestle and streak from one side of the yard to the other, their play breaking the tension that had been building in my chest all day.
“I’m not sure I had any idea Ludo could move that fast,” Colter muttered, watching his usually lazy giant of a dog practically prance around Rubble like a puppy.
“Guess he’s motivated by a pretty girl.”
“Reckon he’s not the only one.” Colter looked over at me with that steady gaze that had always seen too much and waited with the patience of someone who’d had plenty of practice talking his older brother down from ledges.
I couldn’t meet his eyes, so I just kept staring into the dark yard. “I thought we were good. Better than good. Same page, same book. And now she won’t even talk to me. Somehow, I managed to fuck up the best thing in my life, and I don’t have any idea how.”
The admission hung in the air between us, raw and bleeding, and the exposure made my skin crawl. But if I couldn’t tell Colter, who could I tell?
Colter twisted his bottle cap off with a sharp pop that made me jerk, then set it carefully on the step between us like he was buying time to choose his words. “From where I’m sitting, you’re not wrong. You are on the same page.”
I barked a humorless laugh that echoed off the porch ceiling. “If that were true, my wife wouldn’t be at her best friend’s right now, shutting me out.”
He tipped his beer up, swallowed slow and deliberate, then gave me one of those looks that always made me feel like I was twelve again, getting life lessons whether I wanted them or not.
The look that said he was about to drop some wisdom that would either save my ass or make me want to punch him.
“Or she’s spooked. And if I had to lay money, I’d bet it’s got something to do with her mama or her aunt running their mouths.
Maddox poison has a way of seeping into everything, and God knows they’ve got plenty of practice using her as a target. ”
My temper kindled as I thought about that.
I’d wanted to put a stop to that bullshit.
Use myself as a shield between her and them.
But the reality was that I couldn’t be with her twenty-four-seven, and we weren’t exactly living in a time when I could run them both out of town on rails.
I rolled the idea around in my head like a stone I was trying to smooth.
Tomorrow was her brother’s review hearing before the commission.
If one or both of them had gotten to her to poke at her, it would make sense she’d have sought me ought at the station.
But then why had she turned right back around and left?
“That still doesn’t explain why she turned around and left rather than talking to me.”
Colter leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees, bottle dangling from his fingers like he was settling in for a long conversation.
“Emmaline isn’t like us, Bodie. Gibsons, we feel shit out loud.
Loud, proud, messy as hell. We don’t always talk about it—God knows we’re not the most articulate bunch—but it’s out there, whether we want it or not.
Her people? Not so much. All my life, I remember her being…
self-contained. Like she balanced herself against her mama’s chaos, you know?
If she’s upset enough to bolt, that’s a level of vulnerable she’s not comfortable with. ”
I knew that. Knew she struggled with big feelings and that she’d learned to shut down because it was safer than feeling too much when her mother was apt to use those emotions as weapons against her.
I shook my head, frustration burning hot under my skin like a fever I couldn’t break. “I’m her husband. I’m supposed to be her safe space.”
“That’s complicated, though.” Colter’s mouth curved in that expression that was half-smirk, half-sympathy, the one he’d worn through most of our teenage years when he was trying to explain something I was too stubborn to see.
“It’s not like when you were kids and she’d slip off to you because you were the calm when her life was a storm.
Now you are the storm, in a way. You’re the thing that matters too much to lose. ”
Slowly, I turned to stare at him. “You knew?”
He smirked in full this time, leaning back against the porch post like he’d just won a hand of cards and was enjoying watching me squirm.
“Of course I knew. You think you could sneak off for years and none of us would notice? Please. You were about as subtle as a brick through a window. We followed you a few times—not to spy, just curiosity. Found out where you were going, figured out you two had your little hideout by the creek. Didn’t seem like it needed meddling, so we let it be. ”
The memory of those stolen afternoons hit me like a physical blow—Emmaline curled up against my side on that old blanket, her head on my chest, both of us talking about everything and nothing while the water rushed by and the world seemed like it belonged to just us.
I’d thought we were so careful, so secret.
Apparently, we’d been about as covert as a parade.
I blew out a shaky breath, staring down at the beer in my hand. The condensation had warmed under my palm, and I realized I’d been holding it so tight my knuckles had gone white. “She packed all her stuff, Colt. Everything. She left me.”
“No.” He shook his head firmly, voice like bedrock, like something I could build a foundation on.
“She ran because she’s scared, not because she doesn’t care.
You don’t run from nothing, Bodie. You run when it matters too damn much, when the thought of losing it is worse than the pain of walking away. ”
His words cut straight through my panic, settling somewhere deeper, in that place where hope lived alongside fear and uncertainty. Maybe he was right. Maybe this wasn’t about me not being enough—maybe it was about me being too much, too important, too scary to lose.
As if they sensed the tone of the conversation shifting, both dogs stopped their game and ambled back over to collapse at our feet in matching heaps of fur and contentment. Rubble leaned her warm weight against my shins, and I found myself grateful for the simple, uncomplicated affection.
“She loves you,” Colter went on, softer now, his voice carrying the kind of certainty I’d been desperately searching for all evening. “That’s what makes it messy. That’s what makes it hurt. It’s about hanging on when it’s hard and staying in the fight even when you can’t see how it’s going to end.”
My chest tightened, not with panic this time but with the raw ache of wanting her back, of wanting to believe my brother was right, that this wasn’t the end but just another chapter in a story that was far from over.
“You gonna see her tomorrow at the hearing?”
“Yeah. She wouldn’t miss that.” It was one of the few things I was certain of—Emmaline would be there to support Wesley, would see this thing through to the end no matter what was happening between us.
“Then give her tonight. Give her the space she’s asking for, even if it kills you. But when you see her tomorrow, let her know you’re still here. Still in this. That hasn’t changed, and it won’t change.”
I swallowed hard, throat working around words that didn’t want to come, emotions too big for the space between my ribs. “I’m not sure if I can keep from grabbing her the second I see her.”
Colter clinked his bottle lightly against the one in my hand, the sound sharp and clear in the night air. “Then that’s how she’ll know. Sometimes showing up is enough. Sometimes it’s everything.”
I sat there in the dark beside my little brother, beer finally warming in my hand, Rubble’s solid weight anchoring me to the moment, and realized he was right.
All I had to do now was survive until morning, and then show up.
Show her that whatever storm was raging in her head, whatever poison her family had poured in her ear, I wasn’t going anywhere.
I’d weather this like I’d weathered everything else—one breath at a time, one moment at a time, until we found our way back to each other.