“Henna …” he says in a serious voice he hasn’t used with me before. “If you love him, you’ll help me do this.”
I shake my head, continuing with my pacing. “Funny. Someone just told me before I came here that if I loved Bodhi I’d convince you to get the treatment. So … I do love him. What’s the right answer? What’s the right way to show him? Something tells me it’s not letting you die.”
“When I die, he’s yours. You can go anywhere together. Do anything together. Don’t you want that? Don’t you think he’s served his time and that maybe he finally deserves that life? I die and my pain disappears. I get to see my wife again and make up for all the bad things I said and did. I die and Bodhi gets to live a good life with a good woman who loves him. I die and my kids can find closure to this battle they’ve been fighting for years. I want to die. I’m ready to die.”
A million rebuttals and “what ifs” play tag in my mind, but before I can voice them to Barrett, the front door opens.
“Hey.” Bodhi smiles, setting his bag on the floor by the infamous sex stairs.
“Hey.” I rush to him and throw my arms around his neck before he can see the pain and indecision in my eyes. “How was your day?”
“It was fine.” He kisses my cheek and sets me down. “Dad, how are you?” Taking my hand, he guides me back into the living room.
“Still alive.” Barrett grimaces, trying to adjust in his seat.
“Need some help?” I ask, letting go of Bodhi’s hand.
“He never wants help,” Bodhi grumbles.
“Well, today I could use some goddamn help.” Barrett seethes as he tries and fails to get his body adjusted where he wants it.
I start to help, but Bodhi grabs my arm and gives me a gentle tug away from his dad. “I’ve got it.” He lifts the arm to the recliner and bends over, sliding his arms under Barrett’s arms to transfer him into the wheelchair.
Barrett wraps his arms around Bodhi’s neck. After he’s in his wheelchair, Bodhi starts to stand, but Barrett grabs his son’s head and pulls him closer to whisper in his ear. I swallow hard as my throat thickens with emotion. A dying man hugs his son. I have no idea what he’s saying to Bodhi, but something about it is so incredibly tender it squeezes my heart to the point of physical pain. Drawing in a shaky breath, I blink away the stinging in my nose and eyes.
Barrett lets him go, and they just stare at each other for a few silent moments. Bodhi shakes his head slowly. “I can’t do that.” When he turns to me, his eyes start to redden, looking as hopeless and deflated as Barrett.
Shoulders curled inward, Barrett’s gaze drifts to his lap, forehead wrinkled with clear frustration.
“I’m going to change my clothes. Would you like to stay for dinner?”
It takes me a few seconds to tear my gaze from Barrett. I nod to Bodhi. “I’d love to.”
He jerks his head toward the stairs, a silent invite to follow him.
“I’ll wait for you down here with your dad.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah.” I return my attention to Barrett.
“Okay.”
When Bodhi’s upstairs, I squat next to Barrett’s wheelchair, resting my hand on his hand. “I can’t. Bodhi loves you. He would never forgive me.”
“He doesn’t have to know.”
I told Bodhi about Noah. Of course I’d tell him about his dad. I tell him everything. “That’s not how I love your son.”
“How do you love my son?”
My lips curl into a tiny smile. “Completely. Eternally. Honestly. But really just … beyond words.”
Barrett seems to consider this for a few seconds before squeezing my hand. “Beneath the surface that he shows you, he’s miserable. It won’t change my mind about the chemo, which means things are going to get so much worse for not just me, but for him too. He blames himself for my situation. My pain is his pain. No one needs to suffer any longer.”
The stairs creak and I stand, releasing Barrett’s hand while giving him a tiny nod of understanding. That’s the hard part … I really do see this from both sides.
“Do you know how to make anything aside from cookies?” Bodhi calls as he heads around the corner to the kitchen.
I wink at Barrett. “I’m going to school your son on cooking. Enjoy the show.”
Barrett doesn’t respond. Not a nod. Not a smile. Not a word.
My heart drops into my stomach. It’s like he’s already checked out of life, his heartbeat echoed in his slow, emotionless blink. Heading toward the kitchen, I pull in a big breath to chase away the pain I’m feeling for him.
“So what do you do during third period these days?” I press my chest to Bodhi’s back, running my hands up under the front of his white tee as he inspects the contents of the open fridge.
“There’s a new girl in town who likes to sit on my desk and expose herself to me.”
I curl my fingers, letting my nails dig into his flesh. Bodhi grabs my wrists to keep me from breaking his skin.
“I hate you.”
He chuckles, turning toward me, letting the refrigerator door close behind him as he backs me into the counter, still holding my wrists to his chest. “I know you do.” The mischief in his eyes challenges my scowl. Releasing my wrists, he clutches the back of my legs and lifts me up onto the counter.
My hands rest on his shoulders as he nuzzles his face into my neck, inhaling like I’m the breath he’s needed all day.
“But you love me more,” he whispers just before trailing kisses from my ear to my shoulder.
“So much more …” I wrap my legs around his waist. “Bodhi?”
“Hmm?” His hands slide under the back of my shirt, his fingers dipping to the waist of my jeans.
“Your dad is not doing well.”
Bodhi slowly lifts his head, meeting my gaze. “Because he refuses treatment.”
“It’s not a cure.”
A line forms between his eyes as his gaze intensifies. “It can prolong his life. It has prolonged his life.”
My fingers tease the nape of his neck as I nod once, lips twisted to the side. “What life?”
“What do you mean?”
Lifting one shoulder, I cringe. “He doesn’t have a wife. He has a babysitter. His daughter is rarely here. You work at school and with the horses. And when you’re here, the two of you seem to be at constant odds. He’s in pain.”
“That’s why he needs the treatment. To fight the cancer and eventually the pain will get better.”
“What if he doesn’t want to fight anymore?”
Bodhi reaches around and releases my legs from his waist, stepping back until we’re no longer touching. “What are you saying?” His chin drops to his chest as his hands rest on his hips. “I—”
“Dinner smells wonderful.” Barrett interrupts us.
I slide off the counter, giving Barrett an apologetic smile. “Sorry. That’s my fault. I think I saw some chicken in the fridge. Why don’t you boys go into the other room while I make something magical with that chicken?”
Bodhi’s gaze lifts to mine, filled with questions that I can’t answer right now.
Barrett clears his throat. “Looks like Bodhi here doesn’t trust your culinary skills.”
Bodhi doesn’t trust me at the moment, but it has nothing to do with dinner.
“My mom doesn’t know a cheese grater from a colander, so assuming I don’t either is a fair assumption. But while she was busy being her spectacular self all around the world, I was learning life skills from my nanny and our cook.”
“I’ll help.” Bodhi snaps out of it.
I shake my head. “Go hang out with your dad. Really.”
Because his days are limited no matter what you want or what I’m willing to do.
Barrett Malone is trying to check out of this world and that’s just life.
“You don’t know where stuff is at.”
I close the distance between us and lift onto my toes, grabbing Bodhi’s shirt to steady myself as I whisper in his ear, “Go. Pretending that it’s not happening won’t change reality.”
When I release him, he searches my eyes for something. I’m not sure he finds it, but he turns and follows his dad into the living room.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
After a silent dinner with Bodhi and Barrett, where Barrett takes literally one bite of his food, I walk home before dark and Bodhi lets me because he seems more worried about leaving his father unattended than letting me walk home alone. Probably a good instinct. The following day I keep my distance from both of the Malone men. Bodhi doesn’t call or text.
Saturday, I finally get a text from Bodhi.
Bodhi: My dad is having a rough day. I’m not going to be able to see you.
Me: Need help?
Bodhi: Thanks. But I’ve got this.
Me: Love you.
Bodhi: Love you too.
We repeat this conversation on Sunday. By Monday, I need to see what’s going on at the Malone house. I don’t expect to see Alice parked in the drive, but she’s there, which either means she didn’t start this morning or Bodhi didn’t go to school.