Page 132 of Need You to Choose Me

He gestures toward the truck I didn’t notice until now. “Come on. You’ve told me about the Birdseye Diner. I’m sure they have chicken tenders.”

I don’t know why an uneasy feeling settles into my stomach. “Are you dying?”

Bodhi snorts as we walk to his truck. “If I were dying, chicken tenders wouldn’t be my last meal.”

He takes my bag from my shoulder and opens the passenger side door. “Thanks. What would be your last meal be then? Steak?”

His lips twist. “I’ve never really thought about it. If they had to give me anything I wanted, probably something expensive. With gold truffle shavings on top for shits and giggles.”

From inside the truck, I hear a young voice call out, “You’re not supposed to say ‘shit’.”

I blink, turning from the massive mountain of man beside me to the small voice in the cab. “Uh, Bodhi? There’s a kid in your truck.”

He clears his throat. “That’s Gemma.”

Gemma. His daughter. “I kind of figured, since I doubted you kidnapped one on the side of the road.”

He makes a thoughtful noise. “Climb in.”

Is he really not going to tell me what’s happening right now? “Bodhi—”

He sighs, tugging me away from the truck and dropping his voice. “Because of my game schedule, I had to switch up taking her from her grandparents. And I needed… I needed you to see this side of me.”

What side? The fatherly side? “Why?”

“Can you get in? Please?” His voice softens, but the plea sounds desperate.

It’s the only reason I get in. Bodhi mouths “thank you” as he sets my backpack by my feet and closes the door.

As he rounds the front of the truck, Gemma speaks up from the seat she’s strapped to in the back. “Daddy said you go to school here. I think I want to go to school here too.”

How old is she again? “You’ve got lots of time to decide. I wasn’t sure where I wanted to go until I was seventeen.”

“Whoa,” she breathes in awe. “That’s old.”

Bodhi climbs in as she says that. “Careful, kid. I’m twice that age.”

I’m sure her eyes are huge when she says, “That’sreallyold.”

Okay, that has me grinning. “Yeah, Bodhi. You should be in a museum.”

He eyes me. “Hardy har har.”

I buckle in. “So…” I rub my palms down my leg. What do I say to a kid? I’m not well versed since Bentley barely even says “dada” or “mama” yet. “How old are you, Gemma?”

“Four.”

“She’s almost five,” Bodhi tells me. “Right, kiddo? When is your birthday?”

Gemma doesn’t answer right away. “It’s Christmas, but Grandma and Grandpa don’t like celebrating it the same day. So we have cake and presents on the 26th.”

That has to be rough. “My brother was supposed to be born on Christmas. But he held on until January. Our mom said he was born stubborn since he was over three weeks late.”

Bodhi makes a gruff noise. “That had to be hard for her.”

Clearly not hard enough because she still had me after. “It explains his personality,” I muse. “I was born right on time. An angel.”

The man beside me chuckles.

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