by Meghan Quinn
Breaking me out of my thoughts, Eva says, “Then I think we need to have a chat.”
***
The flight back home to Los Angeles was pure torture. Fifteen hours of Eva’s story running over and over in my head, of not hearing from Bodi, of not being able to make sure he’s okay. The poor man next to me had to hear me sniffle, cry, and sniffle some more as I buried my head against the airplane window with my hood sheltering me from everything around me. The pain scorching through me was almost too much to handle.
My poor, sweet man.
He heard their parents being murdered. At such a young age, sitting in a tub, clinging for dear life to his older sister. I can’t stop crying over the knowledge of a young Bodi, scared out of his mind, taking the blame for the intruder who killed his parents. He was only twelve years old. A baby. Every time the thought crosses my mind, I go through a whole new round of tears, of sorrow, of heartache, feeling sick to my stomach.
I can’t imagine going through such a traumatic event and feeling the blame for it.
Eva held my hand the entire time she told me their story, reassuring me she’s okay, but making it clear that Bodi is not.
It explains his OCD, why he needs such rigid order in his life. It’s the reason he keeps people at a distance. He fears losing them. When he lost his parents, he shut down emotionally and only focused on one thing—swimming. No wonder he is so socially awkward. He’s like a twelve-year-old boy.
His awkwardness around me, his phone calls at eight thirty, his panic in Target, his panic in my apartment when I didn’t lock the door . . . everything falls into place like a perfect Tetris puzzle. It all makes sense.
One moment in his life has shaped him to the man he is today—the man I love more than life itself.
If only he knew.
Fifteen hours on a plane, dehydrated from crying, and looking like a hot mess, I don’t even bother heading to my apartment. I drive straight to Bodi’s condo, praying he’s there.
Eva called Dr. Auburn, and he informed her he has yet to hear from Bodi, and we need to show our support. A lot of help he was.
Part of me hopes and prays that when he sees me, when he opens his door to find me on the other side, he envelops me into his strong hold and leans on me for support. But the other part of me fears he will continue to distance himself, that he will use this as an excuse to give up, to throw in the towel.
I can’t do this.
That part of me has my stomach churning in knots with the thought of losing this incredible man.
Luckily for me, there is parking outside of Bodi’s condo. I take his stairs two at a time and, without taking a breath, I knock on his door. The baggy sweatshirt I’m wearing is wrung out by my hands as I wait for him to answer. Impatient, I knock again.
Please be home, please be home.
I need to see him. I need to make sure he’s okay, to make sure we are okay.
The distinct sound of locks unlocking come from the other side of the door and my heart takes flight.
The door opens to reveal a very worn-out Bodi. Dark circles are under his eyes, his hair is disheveled, and his clothes look like they’ve seen their last day. But it’s the dark, bloodshot eyes that really cut me deep.
“Ruby,” he says in a deep, rough voice. “What are you doing here?”
He doesn’t look happy to see me. He actually looks scared . . . angry. He blocks the view of his apartment, leaning against the door frame for support instead of me. I’m not wanted here.
“I . . .” I’m at a loss for words. This wasn’t how I envisioned this meeting going. I expected him to be a little happy to see me. “I wanted to make sure you’re okay.” It’s a weak way of greeting him, but I don’t want to scare him by announcing I know about his very private life.
“I’m fine. You shouldn’t have come over.” If I didn’t know Bodi, I would think he’s hiding another woman behind that door, but that’s not the case with him. He’s hiding something, but it’s not another woman. It’s his heart.
“Bodi . . .” I feel tears forming, and I chastise myself. I have to be strong for him. “What happened in Rio, can we talk about it?”
“There is no need to,” he clips out, not looking me in the eye.
“But—”
“Ruby, I meant what I said, I can’t do this. It was a mistake in the first place, okay? I should have never let it get this far along.”
“What?” I ask, needing him to repeat all of that. Did he just say our love was a mistake?
Still not looking me in the eyes, he says, “It’s over.”
Now I’m angry. “It can’t be over. Bodi, Eva told me everything that happened.” His head shoots up from that announcement, fury in his eyes.
“She what?”
I gulp, a little nervous at seeing this hostility in Bodi. “She told me what happened to your parents. It’s not your fault, Bodi. Let’s just talk—”
“That’s not your assessment to make, and she had no fucking right in telling you.” He drags his hand through his hair out of frustration.
“Bodi, it’s me. Let’s talk this out.”
“There is nothing to talk out,” he snaps at me. “We’re done. So just fucking leave, forget about me. I’m not worth your time.”
“You are!” I shout back, trying to get it through his head. “Bodi, I love you.” He closes his eyes as if my words pain him. Standing strong, I continue on, “I know I was put on to this earth to love you, Bodi. I was brought into your life to help you live, to help you love, and to help you show your true colors. To help you be proud of who you are. Don’t throw that away. Don’t throw us away. Don’t throw away us because you can’t accept who you are, because you can’t accept what we have. I was made for loving you.”
“I accept who I am,” he says in a tortured voice. “I’m a fucking murderer, a fuck-up, a pathetic man.” He points to his temple. “Get that through your head, Ruby. I’m fucking nothing. We are fucking nothing. It’s over.”
Tears stream down my face. “But I love you, Bodi.”
He shakes his head. “If that’s the case, then you have no fucking clue what love is.”
Before I can answer, he shuts the door and locks it up. I listen in shock as he repeats the process of locking three times.
I’m bleeding. My soul is bleeding on the stoop of Bodi’s condo, and there is nothing I can do about it. He wants nothing to do with me. He wants nothing to do with my love. He doesn’t believe me.
We’re done. So just fucking leave, forget about me.
The once solid, all-consuming, and powerful connection I thought I shared with the man immediately evaporates from my grasp, leaving me feeling empty, alone, and grieving for a future that was ripped away from me.
We’re done. So just fucking leave.
Darkness eclipses me as I drive myself to my apartment. I don’t bother unpacking. I crawl into bed and listen to the silence in my empty apartment: my apartment that was once filled with the sweet, addicting laughter of Bodi Banks, that was once filled with the sexy moans of Bodi Banks, that was once filled with the ruggedness of his voice. That was once full.
I cry into my pillow, my agony pouring out of me, my heart breaking. The pain encompasses me, my vision turns black, my outlook on life bleak. Everything that was once colorful is now dull, monochromatic, cold.
I stare at the ceiling, my tears blurring my vision. From the nightstand, my phone rings, pulling me out of my self-imposed despair.
Eva.
“Hello,” I answer, my throat tight with emotion.
“Did you see him?”
“Yeah.” I barely get the word out.
“Oh, Ruby. Are you okay?”
“No,” I squeak.
“I’ll be right over.”
I don’t even bother putting my phone back on my nightstand, I lie there with it in my hand, unable to hold back another wave of tears.
This isn’t really the end, is it?
You have no fuck
ing clue what love is. His venomous words echo through my head, like little needles, reminding me of my loss.
It hurts. It hurts so fucking bad.
Before I know it, Eva’s arms are wrapped around me, and she’s scooting behind me in my bed. My eyes burn as I try to open them. They’re so heavy with mourning that I don’t bother, I keep them shut and bask in the warmth of a friend.
“What happened?” she whispers. And then I hear her say, “Get a warm washcloth for her.” Lauren must be here too. What would I do without them?
My bathroom sink runs in the background as Eva coaxes me again. “Ruby, sweetheart, talk to me. What happened?”
“He . . . he wants nothing to do with me,” I stutter, my heart snapping in my chest.
“Fuck.” A warm washcloth presses against my eyes, and I welcome the heat.
“I thought,” I gasp, trying to control the hiccups that want to come out, “I thought maybe he would lean on me rather than push me away, but I was wrong.” I sniffle and then say, “I told him I love him and he told me I don’t know what love is.”
“Oh, Ruby.” Eva squeezes me tightly, and the end of my bed dips as Lauren scoots close to me and holds one of my hands. “He’s not in a good place right now. Don’t take it to heart.”
“How can I not?” I ask sarcastically. “I’m the one person he should want to talk to, the one he should want to come to when he’s feeling so distraught, but instead, he pushed me away. I can’t take the rejection.” I start to sob. Get that through your head, Ruby. I’m fucking nothing. We are fucking nothing. It’s over. I don’t want to get that through my head. It’s over. “It’s too much. I love him . . .”
Chapter Twenty-Four
BODI
Scrub, scrub, scrub.
Fuck! No matter how many times I run my bristle brush over the tile in my entryway, it doesn’t look clean. It looks dirty, so fucking dirty.
My knees hurt from kneeling, my shoulders ache from the constant scrubbing motion, and my condo is in complete disarray. I see the curtains I bought strewn across the floor; pillows, magazines, and throw blankets are tossed about the room in my attempt to clean, but it only seems to get worse. I can’t focus on any part of my condo. When I look around, all I can see is dirt, grime, fucking chaos.
Just like my life . . .
But this entryway, this fucking tile, it won’t come clean. I noticed right after Ruby stopped by my condo, her eyes soaked in tears, her lip trembling.
Fuck.
I scrub harder, so fucking hard that I bend the bristles back, so now the plastic handle is doing all the work against the tile.
Right here, in this entryway, this is where I tore her heart out. This is where I watched the person who meant everything to me slaughtered by my words, and for what?
Because I’m not good enough for her?
It’s true, I’m not fucking good enough.
She doesn’t want to deal with this . . . this fucking psychotic behavior. What would she do if she saw my apartment the way it is now? What would she say? She’d try to fix it, but this isn’t hers to fix. This isn’t her problem, and damn me to hell if it ever will be. She’s already seen my freak flag; she doesn’t need to help me wave it.
“Fuck, get clean,” I shout at my tile. All I see is Ruby’s anguished face in the gleam of it, the total destruction that crossed her beautiful eyes.
Those fucking gorgeous brown eyes.
Those eyes that accepted me for all of my quirks, all my idiosyncratic tendencies. But she shouldn’t have to make exceptions for my behavior. That’s what she does. She doesn’t scold me, she doesn’t treat me like a barbarian, she makes exceptions, allows me to be the person I am.
Fuck that. I don’t want to be me.
Don’t throw away us because you can’t accept who you are, because you can’t accept what we have. I was made for loving you.
She fucking loved me, how is that even possible? How could she love a monster? A monster like me. She doesn’t know me. She doesn’t know the real Bodi, the Bodi who has to scrub his demons away, the Bodi who has to check the locks three times before he goes to bed, the Bodi who can’t go a day without checking on his sister because he’s so terrified he will lose her too.
I was made for loving you.
Fuck me. I wish that was true, but God would never be that cruel to her. No, he’s cruel to me.
I deserve to be alone, to be left to my obsessions, my routines.
Ruby needs to flourish, and she won’t do that with me. I will only drown her. Those beautiful lips, understanding eyes, and incredibly graceful and selfless heart belong to someone else.
Fuck, just the thought of her with someone else guts me. Sitting against the entryway wall, I prop my forearms on my bent knees and lower my head as my breathing starts to pick up, another panic attack looming. I’m used to them now, they come every few hours, closer together if I start to think about Ruby.
I need her. She would make this better. She makes everything better.
But that ship sailed and rightfully so. I can’t have her hand holding me, stepping on eggshells to make sure I don’t lose my fucking mind. That’s not the kind of life she should live.
I never should have gotten involved with her.
But fuck, she was too alluring, too addicting. Her soul attached to mine and didn’t let go. Shit, she still owns it.
I pinch my brow, fighting back the tightness in my throat as the locks turn and my sister enters my condo. She stops immediately and takes in the scene. It’s the first time she’s ever seen my place like this. Shit, it’s the first time I’ve ever seen it like this.
A disaster.
Scanning the room, she startles seeing me sitting on the floor. She shuts my door, locks it, and then squats in front of me. She places her hands on my knees and dips her head so I have to look her in the eyes.
“Bodi, I’m sorry.”
It’s not what I expected her to say. In all honesty, I’m surprised it’s taken her this long to come here, and I thought she would yell at me. There is no doubt that she knows what happened between Ruby and me. What I did to her. What I said to her.
Fuck . . .
My stomach twists again, making it difficult to sit up.
“I’m so sorry I didn’t text you. I’m sorry I said such careless things to you on the phone. I know you were worried, and I should have taken that into consideration rather than making you feel bad about protecting me.”
I have nothing to say. No words come to mind. The only thought floating through my head is Ruby’s broken and distraught face.
“But . . .” I should have known she wasn’t coming here to just say sorry, “you can’t hover over me anymore, Bodi. It’s not healthy for me, and it’s sure as hell not healthy for you. I’ve been enabling you, and it’s time I stopped.”
“What?” I ask, my voice barely a whisper.
“Look at me.” She lifts my head so I meet the eyes that match mine, the same that match our father. “You’re a protector. You protect me now, and you protected me when we were in that tub, scared out of our minds. Even though you’re younger you’ve always been my shield from the world around us. When Lauren came along, you added her to your list, making sure she’s always taken care of, always safe. I can’t tell you how important that is to me, that you care about her that much. And then your life shifted even more with Ruby.”
“Don’t.” I shake my head. “I don’t want to talk about her.”
“I don’t care if you don’t want to talk about her, you’re going to listen to me. You decided to protect her too, but in all the wrong ways.”
“How the fuck do you figure?” What the fucking hell does she mean? In the wrong ways?
“Because, instead of protecting her from the outside world, you protected her from you.”
I go to argue but stop as I realize Eva might be right.
“You might have thought you handed your heart over to her, that you were being the best boyfriend yo
u could be, but you weren’t. Being in a relationship is about give and take, about sharing your demons with someone else so you don’t have to carry that burden on your own. Just the way Mom used to listen to Dad’s work troubles every night, never offering suggestions, just listening, taking on a bag of his troubles so he wasn’t walking heavy that night. That’s what Lauren does for me; she lessens my burdens. That’s what you should have done with Ruby, but instead, you kept piling them up on your back until it broke.”
I shake my head, not wanting to believe what she’s saying.
“You hid your routines and the need for them from her. Your tendencies, you never showed them to her. Your insecurities, you never voiced them. Your past, you ate up the truth, never exposing it. You piled everything on your shoulders, protecting her from the true Bodi only to have it all come crashing down on you.”
“She doesn’t need to know that shit,” I say roughly.
“Let me ask you this. Do you love her?”
I shake my head, not making eye contact with her.
“Look at me and answer me. Do you love her?”
Of course I fucking love her. Shit, I think I started to fall for her the minute she threw her jazz hands in my direction at the club. Her will to swim across the pool for a doughnut added to that love. Her crazy, unpredictable texts beguiled me. Her vitality and giddy joyfulness provided light into my darkness, wrapping my heart in its warmth. Her ability to soothe me all but pushed me over the edge.
She’s everything to me. Breathing made sense with Ruby in my life.
“I do,” I answer.
“Then why are you pushing her away? I just came from her apartment, Bodi. She’s utterly devastated.”
Fuck, I think I’m going to throw up. I hate that I’m hurting her, but in order to help her live her life, I had to. I had no option.
All the things I said to her as she crumbled before my eyes were lies.
Out of everybody . . . she knows what love is. She shows it every day through the smallest of gestures, like loving a Double Stuf Oreo. And even more, sharing a Double Stuf Oreo.