Page 85 of Drop Three

Bodhi makes no move to let go, holding me as long as I need—until I finally pull away. I turn to face him. “Thank you, B.”

A smile lights up his handsome face. “Anytime. Now, let me help you get this shit out of here before I get myself back in the slammer for pummeling Luke to the ground.”

“Actually, that’s not a bad idea,” I joke.

I feel shy around him. Lately, he’s seen so many different facets of me that him seeing me like this—mistreated by a man—has me avoiding eye contact with him. Bodhi is a stand-up guy, so I know he considers what Luke did disrespectful.

Cal would too. Iwillbe telling him eventually, but not yet.

The mention of Bodhi in the slammer, however, makes me curious as to what exactly has happened to him. I know Bodhi was arrested not long after he and my brother started playing for the Strikers, but what I don’t know is why. I remember Callaway visiting him, but nothing past that.

That was all I got to see or hear until he was released two years later.

The media had a field day with his story, but Coach Leggins did everything in his power to shut them down and make the story ghost.

In my experience, there’s always a cost.

I have questions. Questions I’m not quite comfortable enough to ask.

Despite my need to know more about the mysterious man who showed up for me today, I’m overwhelmed with gratitude.

Bodhi seems to always be here when I need him the most. Similar to the way he held me in the parking garage while I cried my eyes out over the same man—the same pathetic, lowlife man.

Never again.

After one load, Bodhi carries the last of my things to the elevator before turning to look at me. A bright smile lights up his face. “You hungry?”

You have no idea.

“Starved,” I reply, letting him lead me to where our cars are parked.

Despite breaking up with my boyfriend of fourteen years, I feel free and finally like I have a chance at real happiness. I’m not sure what that looks like yet, but I’m excited to find out.

“Good. Let’s eat.”

Yes. Let’s.

26

NAVY

PRESENT DAY

“So,these were those big plans you had for today?”

I stop short, lower the paint pole, and turn to meet Bodhi standing smugly at the threshold of my bedroom door.

“Do I not look productive to you?”

He walks toward me. “I don’t know. You tell me. Did you mean to get paint all over your bed?”

My eyes dart to the right. “Shit. No, no, no, no. Please come off.” I take the wet rag I’ve been using intermittently and attempt to scrub the deep violet paint off my comforter.

Thankfully, it must have just landed there because it wipes clean.

I won’t thank him for noticing, though.

I’ve been too nice to Bodhi lately—too close to forgetting.

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