Page 55 of Quietly Falling
“Nothing. I don’t mind it so much now.”
“You did before?” I ask, toweling my hair dry as he pulls a shirt over his head.
“It was a punishment. I didn’t go willingly.” I stare at him because while I knew he’d gone over from working at Twinscapes with his brother, I didn’t know the details. “There was a moment last year when everything felt unsettled for me. I gave Case my resignation and thought I’d have to go back to New Hampshire.”
“Why?” I ask as he turns to look out the window.
“That’s where my sister was killed. My foster sister,” he says, his eyes cast down toward the floor. “Our foster father has been granted a new trial, and I just couldn’t bear the thought of him getting out on a technicality.”
“I’m so sorry, Bodhi.”
Audrey.
“Mason lost his shit. Things with Lana were goin’ great and he’d moved in with her and I thought it made sense for me to go.”
“I’m guessing you were wrong about that,” I say carefully and he gives me a sad smile.
“Yeah, Sorren and Hank showed up and took me back to Vetted Paws—with lots oflearn from our mistakestalks.” He blows out a breath, and I see him visibly relax, his posture not as tense. “They were right. It’s just hard when you’ve never been able to count on anyone and now you have to change your entire outlook and realize that asking for help is a part of life.”
“It’s still hard, and needing more time to get there doesn’t make it wrong,” I tell him, cupping his face in my hands. “It’s okay to need time—you just need to be able to communicate that.”
“Easier said than done.”
“We’ll keep working on it.”
“Yeah?” he asks, his tone laced with surprise.
“You’ll have to use a crowbar to get rid of me,” I tease, and he chuckles, the tension lessening in the room. “Can I show you around today? We leave tomorrow, and I just want you to see Trappers Ridge from a local’s perspective.”
“A local, huh?”
“Honorary and it still counts.”
“Make it good then, baby, and don’t leave anything out.”
27
BODHI
True to her word, Ella didnotleave anything out, taking all the winding back roads like a race car driver, her smile bright and happy as we weaved through town. I hadn’t grabbed theoh shitbar once, instead choosing to enjoy her chaos a little instead of bracing myself for the fall.
Or in this case, a ditch.
Which, she reminded me with a healthy dose of side-eye, she wasneverthat close to.
And I didn’t argue.
Instead, I placed my hand on her thigh as she told me about the lake and summers spent swimming and boating. She laughed talking about when she learned to waterski and how her uncle never missed an opportunity to make all the quick turns while the kids tried desperately to hang on to their tubes.
It sounded idyllic.
The kind of thing Mason and I could only dream about as kids.
But this time as I listened, there was no sharp pang of jealousy or longing, only a contentedness at enjoying her company and soaking in her enthusiasm as she shared her memories.
It nursed a flicker of hope inside me that maybe I could create those memories with a child of my own.
With a family.
