Their heads whip toward me, slowly releasing their holds on each other.
My hand flies to my face, cupping my mouth, as my heart booms in my chest. Tears burn my eyes. Barrett would hate this. “It was me,” I say softly behind my cupped hand.
Bodhi’s forehead wrinkles as he shakes his head and stutters a barely audible reply, “What?”
Bella blinks rapidly, jaw slack.
I nod a half dozen times before inching my hand away from my mouth, tears streaming down my face. Maybe it’s Barrett or the residual effects of the marijuana, but in spite of my racing heart and endless tears, I find a steady, almost eerily calm voice. “He wanted to die, but not because he was in a wheelchair and not because Bella moved away. He wanted to die because cancer is torturous and unforgiving to those who have it and the people who love them.”
“You killed him?” Bella starts to step toward me, but Bodhi grabs her arm.
I shake my head. “The cancer killed him.”
She wriggles out of Bodhi’s hold and slams me against the wall with her hands pressed to my shoulders. “Did you suffocate him with a fucking pillow?” Tears fill her eyes as she screams at me.
“Get off!” Bodhi pulls her away again with such force that Bella nearly stumbles to the ground.
“You’re going to jail! Do you hear me?”
Bodhi pulls me by my arm out the back door. I nearly trip trying to keep up with him as he wordlessly drags me toward Alice. With less force than Bella used, he presses my back to the door and slams his hands on either side of my head against the window. “Jesus, Henna … what the hell did you do?” His voice is tight, like a band ready to snap.
This is the unforgivable. It has to be. We will never be Henna and Bodhi again. I will be that girl who killed his father, the girl who betrayed him, the girl who lied to him.
“Physician-assisted death,” I whisper.
Bodhi shakes his head, eyes narrowed. “I … I don’t understand. That would have required him to see more than one doctor. And the money for the medication, I would have seen that come out of his account. I … how …” He continues to shake his head as if doing so will erase everything that has happened.
I stare at him, unblinking. He’s smart. He knows the answers, even if he doesn’t want to admit it after a long day.
Bodhi averts his gaze to the side, jaw clenched, eyes red with emotion. “When I—” He swallows hard, nostrils flared. “When I asked you to come over Monday morning, did you know … was he already dead?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
His head drops to his chest, face contorted with pain as he closes his eyes. “How could you?”
“It’s what he wanted.”
“He didn’t know what he wanted!” He slams his palms against the window next to my head several times, accenting each word.
My heart stops as every muscle in my body stiffens.
“He was depressed, Henna!” he yells just inches from my face, squeezing more tears out of me.
My head inches side to side. “He was dying, not depressed. There’s a difference.”
“Shut. Up.” Each word rips from his throat like he’s on the verge of wrapping his hands around my neck. “Just … shut the fuck up. Understood?”
Biting my lips together, I swallow past the boulder of pain in my throat and nod, willing the sobs to stay inside.
He closes his eyes, stepping back and letting his hands fall limp to his sides. “I can’t look at you.”
I don’t breathe. One breath will leave me a mess of destruction on the ground. Through tear-filled eyes, I take one last look at Bodhi Malone. Silent sobs reach my soul as goodbye whispers in my heart. Peeling myself off Alice’s door, my wobbling legs carry my lifeless body down the long drive.
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
Bodhi
Bella spends several days threatening to have Henna arrested. For what? I don’t know. She did nothing illegal. When my sister’s not ranting, she’s crying while going through Dad’s stuff. I have more emotions than I can handle. It could take more than one lifetime to untangle them, put them into manageable little compartments, and piece together what I’m really feeling.
I’m angry.
I’m frustrated.
I’m confused.
I’m hurt.
And I’m just exhausted.
“I’m leaving,” Bella announces while dropping her suitcase just outside of the kitchen.
I pour a cup of coffee. “Do you need a ride to the airport?”
She shakes her head. “I called a taxi.”
Leaning against the kitchen counter, I take a sip of coffee.
Bella’s gaze falls from mine, her shoulders collapsed inward. I feel as defeated as she looks.
“Bodhi, I don’t know how to fix us. I don’t know how to look at you and not see our parents’ graves. I don’t know how to forgive you or her.”
I don’t know how to forgive her—Henna—either, but I also don’t know how to convince my heart that I don’t love her anymore. It acts on its own free will.
“So I’m just going to go.” Bella forces her gaze back to mine.
It hurts. I hurt for her. As angry as I am at her for holding on to the past and abandoning Dad, I still hurt for my sister, because when I messed up years ago, I changed her life forever too.
“If I can work through this, then maybe we can … I don’t know.” She shrugs.
I nod slowly. She doesn’t have to finish. I know she’s saying goodbye. Maybe a final goodbye.
“I’m sorry for everything, even for having to say I’m sorry again. But I do love you. And I also understand that sometimes love isn’t enough. So …” I set my coffee down and walk to her, pulling her into my arms. Tears burn my eyes. “You were a victim too. And I’m just … so … sorry.”
Bella slowly pushes away, quickly wiping her eyes and finding a brave face. “I took everything I wanted. If you sell the house or the ranch … it’s yours.”
She cuts all ties.
I get it, even if it hurts.
Bella turns, grabs her suitcase, and walks out the door.
After my coffee, I head to the stables to take Snare out for a ride. Taped to his saddle is a large envelope.
“What the hell?” I pull out the cash—a lot of cash. Then I pull out a folded piece of paper.
Bodhi,
I wish I had some great wisdom to pass on to you with my final words. I don’t.
Instead, I have a few secrets, some incredibly honest gratitude, and one last request.
Secrets I promised your mom I’d take to my grave …
Your first word was Dada.
Your first steps were to me.
You ran to me every time I walked through the door after a long day.
You tiptoed into our bedroom at night and nestled into my chest.
I don’t know what I did to deserve your love.
Mom cared for you all day. Fed you. Changed your diapers. And kissed your boo-boos. She wiped your tears and made bringing you joy her full-time job.
Still … you were my boy.
Thank you for staying. I know you didn’t do it out of guilt. You did it because you are and always will be my boy.
Thank you for taking my pain and making it your own.
Thank you for being my friend.
I’m sorry it took me so long to realize that it was unfair to ask you to help me die.
You are my boy, the whisper of my name, and the hand always holding mine.
You are an undeniable, physical, eternal part of me.
But … the pain was real and the end was imminent.
It was just time to go, even if the goodbye felt impossibly unbearable.
Thank you for Henna. She gave me peace. She took the pain you couldn’t take from me.
Thank you, my dear boy, for never letting go.
Now, I need you to do me a favor. Get on a plane and go live. Live for me and live for your mom.
Live because it’s the only thing you have left to do in your life. Don’t try to rewind. Don’t try to fast forward. Honor my memory by living your best life. And whatever you do … DON’T LOSE THE GIRL!
Forever your favorite pain in the ass,
Dad
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
Henna
Two Months Later
“My favorite memories of us are on this beach.”
I turn toward my dad’s voice.
“Forgot your hat.” He sets the white, wide-brimmed hat on my head.
My lips find something like a smile to give him in return. Joy still feels foreign to my heart, but I’m trying. I stare at the foaming waves settling around our feet. “Memories …” I grunt a laugh. “Too bad we can’t be more selective with them.”
“Your mom and I were in love. The timing, our ages, the circumstances … none of it mattered. It was real. It was forever.”
I look up.
He gives me a sad smile. “Yes. I still love your mom. I will love her forever. What they say is not true—you don’t have to let go to move on.”
“Is Bethanne your moving on?”
Dad grins. “Yes, I like her … a lot. But I moved on in other ways long before Bethanne. The day your mom married Zach was a pretty official moment.”
We stand together for a few minutes, just taking in the moment.
“Did you get to say goodbye?”
I shake my head slowly. It still hurts. It will always hurt. “I waited until school was out. Then I baked cookies—the kind that only give you a sugar high.”