I study him, still hesitant to immediately believe what he’s saying after all the lies, but he looks steadier than I've seen him in years, and looks determined as he stands here, asking for a chance to prove himself.
"That's good," I say carefully. "I’m glad you’re doing okay."
His jaw tightens with determination. "Chase wouldn't let me anywhere near this if he didn't think I could handle it."
I nod, but it’s not as simple as that. He’s an addict. He has a long road ahead. I'll believe it when I see it
"Great. Stick with it. Take all the help you can get," I tell him honestly. "And I’ll be here when you do."
Jake frowns, but he doesn't look away. "That's fair. More than fair." It’s not what he wanted. A hug, maybe, or to be welcomed with open arms? It’s going to take me some time.
With a brusque nod, he takes a step back toward the door. "I just wanted you to know. And to tell you that I'm staying at Chase's compound, if you need to find me. Or want to."
"Good."
He hesitates, looking between me and Bodhi. "I'm glad you found something amazing, Em. You deserve it."
Bodhi nods once, acknowledging both the sentiment and the implicit apology.
"Take care of yourself, Jake."
Mason reappears to escort him out. “I’ll take care of him for you, Em.”
Nodding, blinking back tears, I watch through the window as they walk back toward the truck. Jake's shoulders are straighter than when he arrived and when Mason shoulder checks him right before he climbs into the truck, he even smiles.
It’s a start. A good one. He looks like a man with purpose, even if that purpose is just staying useful one more day.
When the door closes, Bodhi is beside me immediately, pulling me against his chest.
"You okay?"
I consider the question. There's hope there, buried under the lingering anger and disappointment. Jake might actually get his life back on track. Or he might not. But I can't control that, and for now, he needs to do it alone.
"Yeah," I say. "I think I am."
His hand slides down to rest on my hip, thumb stroking absently. We stay like that as the afternoon light shifts through the windows, the fire crackling low, the compound carrying on with its daily rhythm outside.
"Hungry?" Bodhi asks eventually, the same question he's asked every few hours since I woke in his bed. "You barely touched lunch. Or a snack?"
"I'm fine." But my stomach rumbles loudly in disagreement and I press my hand to my abdomen without thinking.
Bodhi goes still.
His whole body changes, every muscle locking as his attention narrows on my belly. He pulls back just enough to look at me, really look, his dark eyes searching my face.
"Emma." His voice is rough. "When did you last have your period?"
Heat floods my cheeks. "I don't know. I lost track." I try to do the math, but the days blur together. Before Kozlov took me. Even then, I never paid that much attention to the dates.
His hand slides from my hip to my stomach, palm flat against my stomach. He closes his eyes, and I watch his nostrils flare as he breathes deep.
"Bodhi, what are you doing?"
"Quiet." The word is barely a whisper. His brow furrows in concentration, head tilting slightly like he's listening for something only he can hear.
I hold my breath.
When his eyes open, they're blazing gold.
