Ican’t do this. He’ll worry about me too much, and then I’ll eventually tell him everything. There are too many consequences to one conversation.
Bodie turns to leave, hesitating as if almost changing his mind. I should stop him; I should do a lot of things. He closes the door behind him, the sound echoing in the room.
Why does the thought of telling him paralyze me, even now, when I know better? Therapy worked, for the most part, but thisis Bodie. If he ever felt the way Josh did about what happened, my heart wouldn’t survive losing him too. Josh was a horrible person in hindsight. Bodie is nothing like him, so why am I doing this to him?
I flop back on the bed, furious with myself for treating Bodie the way I did. Just another thing to put a wedge between us.
The toilet flushing from down the hallway breaks me out of my spiral. Ihaveto talk to him about this. I have to tell him something. I can’t let us go to bed like this.
I open my door and find him heading toward the kitchen. “Bodie.”
“What, Bryce?” His dejected response is muffled in the hallway. The hurt in his voice has guilt settling like a stone in my stomach. He won’t even look at me now, and I don’t blame him.
“Come here—please.” He doesn’t right away. I go to him instead, resting my head on his shoulder blades and pulling him into me by his hips. “Please.”
He repositions himself in my arms to face me, our eyes finally meeting. “How can I be here for you if you don’t let me? I’m your best friend first, right?” Not waiting for an answer, he nods for me. “So then let me decide what I can and can’t handle.”
I sink my teeth into my trembling lip, fighting back the fear I’ve kept inside for so long. Bodie guides me back to bed, curling his body around mine, waiting silently while I gain the courage to tell him.
“My dad died in a car accident when I was seven years old; you know that.”
“Yeah, you never told me all the details, though.”
“I haven’t talked about this with anyone since high school, except my therapist a few years back.” He holds me tight, and it fuels me to continue. “I was in the car with him.”
I pause, going back and forth, trying to decide how much to tell him for now.
“We were coming home from my basketball practice. It was the middle of winter, and it was already dark outside. My mother had to work late, so it was just me and my dad.” The churning in my gut is almost unbearable. “We, uh, went through a red light, and a car hit my dad’s side. I was on the passenger side in the backseat, so I wasn’t hurt badly. When the medics came, they were shocked I only had cuts on my neck and face from the shattered glass.”
Aside from Bodie holding his breath for a moment, he doesn’t respond—and it’s a relief.
“When the car stopped moving, my dad was…dead. He had blood all over his, umm, face, and in his hair. They said he died instantly. He hit his head on the window and—” I clench my eyes shut, trying to erase the image, but it doesn’t help—it never does. “He was thrown around the front seat during the crash.”
“He wasn’t wearing his seatbelt?”
I know the answer—I say it in my head—but the word won’t leave my lips.
The air is thick with silence, and I’m terrified to reveal anything more. I’m only thankful to still be in his arms, and when he doesn’t press me about the specifics, I begin to relax.
“I’m sorry.” Those words cut like a knife, deep enough to slice into the mind of the broken child inside me. The one who should’ve been left to die alone in that car all those years ago “I love you, Oz.”
I barely stop myself from choking on the boulder-sized lump that’s formed in my throat. “I love you, beautiful.”
Chapter Sixteen
Bodie
“Oz, are you almost ready?” He’s been glum ever since our conversation last week, to the point he’s barely eating. I’ve at least made sure he’s sleeping; otherwise I’m not sure he’d be able to make it through work every night. Luckily, I had a couple days’ break from games before the playoffs began. We won our first two games, and we hit the road tomorrow for a few away games. So, I’m taking Bryce out to dinner tonight. Maybe a night out is just what he needs.
“I’m ready,” he says, walking into the kitchen with a half-smile. “Where are we going anyway?”
“A new steakhouse that opened a few weeks ago. Davidson said it’s one of the best steaks he’s ever had, and I know how much you love a good ribeye.”
“You know me well, don’t you?”
“I hope so.” I stride up to him, touching my lips to his before tugging on the belt looped of his black slacks. “You look delicious all dressed up.”
“Ditto.” He kisses me softly for a moment. “Let’s go. I’m starving.”
