Prologue #2
He huffs out a laugh and stands. “You have no idea. But this conversation requires another drink. Can I get you something other than water?”
I’m tempted to tell him wine, but I shake my head. I watch as he goes to the bar and passes the bartender a bill before getting two more drinks. Another beer, and another water.
This time, I don’t accuse him of drugging it.
Bodhi seems contemplative as he drinks at least a quarter of his beer, drags his fingers through his hair, and sighs heavily. “I just found out that I’m going to be a dad,” he tells me.
My eyes widen a fraction. “Wow.” I blink, unsure of what the feeling tugging in my chest is. It can’t be jealousy because I don’t know this man enough to care. “Are you…”
Before I can stop myself, I glance down at his hands to see if I missed a ring or tan line. Not that it would mean much. I’m not wearing one either.
His fingers twitch around his glass. “We’re not together,” he tells me, wiggling the finger I’m gawking at like an idiot. “Maybe we should be, though. For our kid, you know? I never thought I’d be in the position to even think about this sort of thing.”
I have no idea what to say to him. We don’t know each other, so do I have a right to give him advice? I’m not biased to his situation. I have no real opinion of the matter. “Do you want to be a dad?”
His Adam’s apple bobs as he stares into his drink thoughtfully before bringing it to his mouth and taking a large swig. “I’ve never thought about it. I just turned twenty-eight. I barely have my own shit together.”
I watch the torture that lingers in his eyes. “There are people a lot younger than you who’ve dealt with the same thing and managed to get by. If you truly want to be in your kid’s life, then you can’t let anything stop you.”
Bodhi’s head lifts. “You think?”
I nod. “Take it from someone whose relationship with her parents is lacking. I’ve always been a little jealous of people who get to have their mom and dad in their life. Mine are both absent. They always have been. Do you want that for your son or daughter?”
He frowns and shakes his head. “No.”
“Do you want to be with their mom?”
His frown deepens, and his shoulders tighten.
The answer is obvious even without him saying it, and an odd sense of satisfaction, which I quickly brush off, eases the tight grip around my heart.
“Look,” I offer softly, reaching over and touching his hand. “I don’t know you and you don’t know me. After tonight, we’re probably never going to see each other again. So say what you want to. Consider me your temporary therapist for the night. Free of charge. Who am I going to tell?”
His eyes spark as he studies me, then our hands on the table. “You really don’t, do you?”
Confusion pinches my brows together. “I don’t—”
His head moves back and forth as his fingers swipe at his jaw.
“I probably shouldn’t have come over here,” he murmurs, more to himself than anything as his fingers flex underneath mine.
When those annoyingly gorgeous blue eyes flick upward, I can’t help but blush under the scrutiny of them.
“It’s hard to believe a pretty girl like you is here all alone. ”
“I’m not alone.”
His tongue drags over his lips. “No,” he agrees, eyes dropping to my mouth. “You’re not.”
His touch suddenly feels heated and heavy. Almost as heavy as his lidded expression. It stirs something in my belly as I glance over at my phone. There are no messages and only fifteen percent battery life left. Doesn’t Max care where I am? Doesn’t he want me to know he’s okay?
The answer is easy. No.
My hand retreats as I let out a breath to collect myself, and Bodhi must sense that I feel the charged atmosphere the same way he does. I should tell him I need to go. But I don’t.
“So, Honor,” he says before I can make up an excuse to leave. “Tell me about yourself.”
What could he possibly want to know?
What I should tell him is that I’m married. That my husband will be home soon and probably wonder where I am. I should be honest with him—with myself.
That this is a bad idea, staying here.
But turns out, I’m a lot more like my mother than I thought. Because I don’t tell him any of those things. I lie to myself and convince my guilty conscious that this is innocent. That the feeling buzzing under my skin has nothing to do with desire or want. It’s…companionship.
At the end of the night, I’ll go home to my husband and pretend like none of this ever happened.
“What do you want to know?”
Once again, his eyes dip to my mouth. It doesn’t last nearly as long as the first time, but he might as well have touched them from how they buzz. “Everything,” he says, his eyes moving upward.
I swallow. Everything.
When was the last time Max asked how my day was? Sorrow, deep and rooted, settles into my stomach and grows like a weed.
For once, someone wants to know me.
So, I tell Bodhi…everything else.
Everything that Max never listens to.
Every dream.
Every aspiration.
Every goal.
And this man who I’ve known for only thirty minutes listens to it all intently. Nodding. Interjecting when necessary but never cutting me off. Never making me feel less than. Not the way Max does.
Bodhi makes me feel important. Like what I say matters; like what I want means something.
And by hour two, that buzzing under my skin is a full-blown forest fire as we laugh over something insignificant.
Innocent, I tell myself.
Liar, another voice counters.
And by hour three, when a college-aged boy who can’t be much younger than Bodhi and I approaches our table, everything changes.
Bodhi turns sheepishly to me when the boy says, “Dude, I can’t believe you’re here. That game tonight was wild. Can we get a picture? My frat brothers aren’t going to believe I ran into you. They’re going to be so pissed they stayed in when they could have met Bodhi-Fucking-Hoffman.”
I watch as Bodhi clears his throat and offers him a stiff nod, letting the newcomer take a selfie with him before glancing over to see the confusion on my face.
Bodhi Hoffman. Why does that name sound familiar? An itch that I can’t quite scratch nags my consciousness as Bodhi stares at me before turning back to the boy who’s asking for an autograph.
An autograph.
I slowly put the pieces together.
The game tonight.
Bodhi Hoffman.
Suddenly, his athletic build makes sense. His thick thighs fill out his jeans a little too well and his equally thick arms are roped with solid muscle that must have taken a long time to mold to the perfection they are.
I suck in a breath.
As soon as we’re alone, the man I’ve spent the last three hours going tit for tat with over our favorite colors (blue for him and purple for me), our favorite foods (we both love pizza, although he has the audacity to like sardines on his), and music preferences (oddly enough, we both enjoy pop), rubs the back of his neck like he’s suddenly shy.
“Remember how I said I dabbled in sports?”
I let out a shallow breath and move my head up and down silently.
“I’m in town for the game,” he explains, toying with the half-empty beer glass in front of him. Is that his sixth or seventh one? I’ve lost count. Maybe he’s drunk, and that boy is mistaken.
“The game,” I repeat dumbly. Realistically, he could mean he’s here to watch it. Plenty of people travel for big matches like the one tonight.
But in my gut, I know that’s not what he means. “You’re a hockey player,” I surmise, swallowing the acid rising in my throat.
He leans forward, frowning. “I’m Bodhi.”
That’s not true, though, is it?
“Which team?” I force myself to ask.
Please don’t say the one I think you’re going to, I plead internally.
He doesn’t answer right away. But when he does, my worlds collide. The worlds I’ve done my hardest to separate when I wanted a fresh start of my own. Something to build that has nothing to do with who I’m related to or my circumstances.
Something deep, deep inside me clicks into place when he says, “New York.”
I close my eyes.
Only when he says my name twice do I open my eyes to see the way he watches me with a sullen expression. “What’s wrong?”
I slide off the stool, clenching my clammy palms. “I have to use the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”
Before he can protest, I lock myself into the dive bar restroom that smells like perfume and vomit. “Out of all the guys you could have met,” I grumble to myself, swiping a hand over my face.
I stare at my flushed reflection in the mirror and cringe.
I’m not wearing makeup tonight, not that I normally do.
My red hair is a frizzy mess that I put into a bun right before getting here, the jeans and sweater I changed into after work do little for my curvy figure, yet Bodhi has been looking at me like he wants nothing more than to take me home.
And I…I’ve been wanting nothing more than to be in the position where that’s possible.
Guilt crashes into me.
Running cool water over my face, I realize I’m going to have to face him eventually. I can’t hide in the bathroom until closing, as much as I wish I could. The question is, do I tell him the truth or continue the lie?
Liar. Liar. Liar. Just like your mother.
The sour thought remains in the forefront of my mind as I dry off my face and take a deep breath. Then I walk back out to face the man who’s given me more undivided attention than I’ve gotten in a long time, ready to…I don’t know. Call him out? Get mad?
Except when I get back to our table, there’s no sign of the professional hockey player anywhere. Only stacks of money are left in the middle of the table under the empty glasses that have been piling between us all night.
I swallow my disappointment and tell myself it’s better this way.
Not because of Max, as much as it should be.
But because of my father.
After all, I just spent the last few hours talking up his star player.
When I finally get home, Max is already there. He doesn’t ask where I’ve been or why I’m crawling into bed in the middle of the night.
So, I turn onto my side with my back toward the man who’s buried in his phone, and whisper, “Don’t you care at all?”
Max’s response grabs ahold of my heart and squeezes with all its might. “I’m not doing this with you tonight, Honor.”
No questions.
No doubts.
Only empty dismissal.
The next day, I wake up discombobulated and experience one of the worst seizures of my life that changes me forever.
And Max is nowhere to be found.