Bohdi: King's Descendants MC #6

by Bella Jewel

  And oh, how I need him.

  He has been the only thing keeping my head above water.

  He has helped me heal the wounds that I thought would be forever gaping, forever open for the world to see.

  A tear rolls down my cheek, followed by another, and suddenly I’m jogging. I jog until I can’t breathe, until my lungs burn from the exertion. I push past it and find myself at the local bridge overlooking a gorgeous river. A river he has brought me to once or twice, a place where we’d sit and talk. Well, I’d talk and he’d listen.

  Bohdi doesn’t talk.

  Now I understand why.

  If he talks then the truth will be revealed, and the truth, for him ... is ugly.

  It’s horribly ugly.

  I sit on the edge of the bridge, trying to catch my breath. I dangle my legs over the side, listening to the sound of the water running below me. If I jumped off this bridge, I wouldn’t die. Hell, people do it all the time for fun. I’d probably land into the icy cold water, and maybe, if I stayed in there long enough, that would kill me.

  The idea of crashing into cold water right now doesn’t scare me.

  It’s tempting, even.

  My breathing slows down, but the tears don’t stop. They just keep rolling on down my face.

  The vibrations in my back pocket are a sure sign that everyone has figured out I’m gone.

  I don’t check it.

  What could they possibly say to make me feel any better?

  The man I trusted, the man I gave my heart to, has a wife and kids.

  A god damned wife and kids.

  The worst part is, we’ve never even kissed. How pathetic is that? I gave him my heart purely on time spent together. The way he’d listen, and the way he’d always be there for me, even when I had nothing to say. He was just there. We had a connection, a bond that ran deeper than anything I’ve ever experienced. Bohdi, he was my friend, and I trusted him.

  He lied to me.

  He lied to us all.

  It makes sense to me now, why he is so closed off. Why his eyes are so distant, why he never bared his soul to me. He never told me about his life, or why he’s here. He just told me it’s a story for another day. I see why now. He was lying. The entire time, he was lying.

  I press my chin to the railing in front of me and stare off into the darkness. My heart hurts, god, it aches. A feeling I’m not familiar with. I’ve had pain. I’ve had fear. But I’ve never had heartbreak. I’d take all of those other things a thousand times over if it meant I never had to feel the pain I’m feeling right now.

  I close my eyes, taking a deep breath. It burns, my lungs still recovering from the force of my run.

  I understand a hard life—hell, I’ve lived one.

  I understand protecting those you love from the truth.

  But a whole family?

  I can’t understand that.

  Faking your own death to get away from them?

  What sort of person would want to leave their babies behind?

  Bohdi isn’t the man I thought he was.

  That hurts more than anything.

  What am I going to do now?

  “Thought I’d find you here.”

  I jerk at the sound of Bohdi’s voice coming from behind me. I don’t turn, because if I turn he’ll see my face and he’ll know just how much it hurts. If I open my mouth to speak, he’ll hear my voice breaking. I can’t give him any of those things.

  “Merleigh,” he says, sitting down beside me, hanging his legs over the side. His voice is husky, and my soul immediately responds to it.

  If I look to him and see his gorgeous face, or that long sandy-blond hair, or his eyes when they lock onto mine, I’ll lose my strength.

  Right now, my strength is all I have.

  “Look at me.”

  I close my eyes.

  If I close them long enough, maybe he’ll go away.

  He exhales.

  He came here to find me, even though his wife is at home.

  I wish that made me feel better, but it doesn’t.

  Rage builds inside of me, another feeling I’m not familiar with. I have never been an angry person. I’ve always been quiet and shy. I have always been strong, taking things on and never showing how much they hurt. I take pride in being who I am. Angry isn’t something I ever wanted to be but, right now, I’m struggling to feel anything else.

  “You’re hurt,” he says, his voice weary. “I know that. You gotta let me explain.”

  Explain?

  Explain that you have a family you abandoned? How could you possibly explain that?

  “It’s a long story, a story I need to confirm with my wife before I share it with you. I need you to trust me right now, and I know you don’t, but I need you to. Soon, it’ll make sense to you. But right now, I have to sort it out.”

  I don’t say anything.

  I don’t want to hear his story.

  I just want to leave.

  To disappear and never come back.

  Maybe that’s what I’ll do.

  Maybe I will leave. Hell, maybe I’ll leave tomorrow.

  There is nothing holding me here anymore.

  “Merleigh, fuck, will you look at me?”

  I won’t, no.

  I keep my eyes closed.

  He exhales and then reaches over and sweeps my hair, blowing frantically in the breeze, away so he can see the side of my face. He gently tucks it behind my ear, and his thumb moves over the skin on my cheek. I flinch away, turning my face in the opposite direction.

  “Please, give me a chance to show you who I really am.”

  He had that chance.

  He didn’t take it.

  Now, that chance is gone.

  I stand and turn, walking off into the darkness.

  Not before I hear his pained bellow echo through the night.

  My heart wants to run to him.

  My brain is smarter than that.

  It’s time to move on.

  I have no other choice.

  Bohdi and I will simply never be.

  “HEY.”

  The side of my bed sags as Waverly sits on the side of it, staring down at me, a cup of tea in her hand. She’s got messy hair and a soft expression on her face. I adore Waverly, because she has been a constant in my life since they rescued me from the nightmare I was tossed into. She is my friend, and she and Mykel have been so gracious as to let me stay with them for the last month or so. I didn’t want to trouble Briella for too long, and Waverly was more than happy for me to live with them.

  “Hey,” I say, sitting up, running my fingers through my hair.

  The blond locks fall over my shoulders in a tangled mess. I didn’t brush it when I went to sleep last night, and it’s going to be a hell of a mess when I try to deal with it today.

  “How are you feeling, honey?” Waverly asks, handing me the cup of tea.

  “I ... I actually wanted to talk to you. It’s important.”

  She narrows her eyes, looking concerned. “Are you okay?”

  I shake my head. Truth is, I’m not okay. I’m not, but I’ve made a choice. Last night, feeling the pain I felt, I know I have no other option now. I can’t be here, I can’t face this. It’s finally time for me to get my life back, and the only way I can do that is to start fresh somewhere new.

  There is a little town about two hours from here. It’s a seaside town, gorgeous and small. I will find a job, a place, and maybe, just maybe, fix my life. I’m close enough that I can still see the people I love, but far enough away that I no longer have to see Bohdi. Especially now his wife has returned. That pain is simply too much to bear.

  “I’m not really, no,” I tell Waverly. “I just ... I can’t be here anymore, Waverly. I’m struggling, and that struggle is only going to get worse. I’m hurting, really bad, and I need to be free of that. There is only one way I can do that. I’m moving away.”

  Her eyes widen and she looks confused as she stares at me, slowly sha
king her head. “You’re moving? Where? Why? I know you’re hurting, honey, but we’re your family.”

  “And I love you all, I truly do, but I need to be somewhere other than here. Seeing him ...”

  “We don’t even know the full story. There could be any explanation as to why he has a wife he didn’t want to be around, there are thousands of them. Aren’t you at least going to wait and see what that is?”

  “He lied to me. He lied to all of us. He has a family. A family that has obviously been looking for him for a very long time. I’m not going to be the reason he doesn’t consider going back to them. I’m sorry, but I’ve made up my mind. I’m not going far, we can visit all the time, but it’s finally time for me to start my life the way I deserve. This was just a push in the right direction.”

  She hesitates, but I’m certain she can see in my eyes that there is no changing my mind.

  “When are you going?” she asks, her voice soft and defeated.

  “Tomorrow, but ... I need to ask a huge favor.”

  “Anything, honey. Anything at all.”

  “I have no money. I was on the internet last night, and I found a place. It’s small, but it’s so nice. I am going to give them a call today. If it works out, I am going to take it, move in and go from there. I just need something to cover me until I can get a job.”

  Waverly nods. “Whatever you need, we’ll give it to you.”

  I swallow and force a small smile. “I appreciate you, I hope you know just how much. I won’t be far away, we can visit all the time and have girls’ nights. I have to do this, Waverly.”

  “I know you do, that’s what kills me. I get it. You have been through so much, you deserve to have your life exactly the way you want it, and you most certainly deserve to be able to choose for yourself what that is. Do me a favor, though. Talk to Bohdi before you leave. I feel like there is so much more to the story than any of us could imagine.”

  “Maybe,” I say softly. “Either way, his mess is for him to figure out. I can’t be part of it, it just hurts too much.”

  “I respect that. Let me know how you go with your new place, and we can go from there.”

  I nod, and she smiles, standing and leaving the room.

  I exhale and stare at the cup of tea in my hand, untouched.

  Can I do this?

  Can I go and start again on my own?

  Can I leave him and never look back?

  I don’t know, but what I do know for certain is, it’s time for me to get myself together.

  It’s time for my life to be mine once more.

  2

  THEN – BOHDI

  17 YEARS OLD

  “Yo, Bohdi, that girl hasn’t taken her eyes off you, man. You should go and get her number.”

  I glance at the girl my friend Sean is talking about. She’s new around here and has been down at the beach for the last few days, watching us surf. She’s pretty, really fucking pretty, with blue eyes, blond hair and golden skin. She’s only young, maybe the same age as we are, maybe a touch younger.

  “I got enough fuckin’ things to worry about, without adding pussy to the mix,” I say, looking away from her and shoving Sean’s shoulder.

  “Can’t hurt to have a bit of fun.”

  “Are we goin’ to hit the waves or talk about chicks?”

  “Fuck the chicks, let’s surf.”

  Our other good friend, Carson, comes up behind us, board tucked under his arm, jogging toward the water.

  “Always gotta make an entrance,” Sean mutters, picking up his board and following.

  I glance at the girl again, and this time she gives me a small smile. I return it, pick up my board, and hit the waves.

  I’ve been surfing since I was ten and my parents moved us to this little seaside town. They got a shack right on the beach, where the waves can be heard day and night, where the smell of salt and sand fills the house. It’s everything and more.

  If only they had stayed together and we remained a family, that is.

  Instead, my father disappeared with a local barmaid and my mother started drinking to mask the pain. Now, she spends her nights working and her days drinking and sleeping. She’s a wreck, and it doesn’t seem to matter what I do, nothing helps. I picked up a job after quitting school, and that pays the rent, but it’s barely enough. She drinks her wage away, so I spend more time than not going to bed hungry.

  One thing I have, though, is the waves.

  My board.

  My friends.

  Without them, I’d be an empty wreck.

  I hit the waves, and the warm, salty water washes over me as we paddle out. I could surf all day and be completely content. There is no other place I’d rather be. In the water is where I feel most at home. It’s the only time I feel truly free.

  We spend two hours surfing and only when lunchtime rolls around do we come back in. I run my fingers through my wet hair as I walk back up to the shack and place my board down. Carson and Sean follow me, both of them doing the same thing.

  The girl is still there, sitting under a tree just outside my shack, down on the beach a little. She’s writing now, something in a notebook.

  “Go and fuckin’ talk to her,” Carson says. “You balless little prick.”

  I punch him in the gut, and he stumbles back with a wheeze.

  I shoot him a glare and then walk down and approach the girl sitting under the tree. She looks up when I stop, her eyes scanning over my bare, wet chest. “I was wondering when you’d come and talk to me.”

  Her voice is confident, strong, and a little sassy.

  “Nothin’ stoppin’ you from gettin’ up and comin’ to speak with me,” I say, crossing my arms.

  Her eyes lock onto mine. “I don’t chase men. That’s your job.”

  Yep, sassy.

  “What’s your name?”

  “What do you want it to be?”

  I smirk. “I don’t fuckin’ care, really. I’m bein’ polite.”

  She grins. “Isla. What’s yours?”

  “Bohdi.”

  “That’s hot. Are you single, Bohdi?”

  “Are you always so forward, Isla?”

  She shrugs, her pretty face light. “I’m honest.”

  “Well, I’m honest too. And honesty will be me tellin’ you, I’m not boyfriend material, Isla. Hell, I’m not even good friend material.”

  “I’ll consider myself warned,” she says, her voice strong and fucking sexy.

  I grin at her and then turn, walking back to my shack.

  “I’ll see you later then, surfer.”

  I wave a hand at her.

  Her giggle fills the day.

  I learn one thing quickly in that moment—Isla is going to be trouble.

  I just don’t realize how much.

  “GOD DAMMIT, MOM, WAKE up,” I yell, shoving my mom with my hand as she rolls to her side, dried vomit on her pillow. She smells awful and hasn’t been out of this room for two days.

  Her workplace called, wondering where she disappeared to and why she hasn’t be in. They’re threatening to fire her, but that does little to stop her drinking or getting out of fucking bed.

  “Leave me alone, Bohdi,” she groans, sitting up.

  She has black stains on her cheeks from her mascara and dried vomit. Her hair is a mess, and she looks horrible. Once, before my dad left her, she was a beautiful woman. She was radiant and she smiled all the time. Now, she’s a shell of herself. He was the love of her life, or so she claims, and because of that she let herself drown instead of fighting to get back up and move on with her life.

  I shouldn’t see that as weak, it’s not, but the problem is I find it hard to look at her as the woman I remember, when she’s lying on the bed, drinking herself stupid each night.

  “Your boss is calling, you’re going to lose your job if you don’t go in. We need you to work, Mom. If you don’t, we can’t eat.”

  She stares at me with those bloodshot eyes. “Can’t you get a second
job? I hate that job, my boss is horrible.”

  “Probably because you are always having nights off. You have to work to keep a job. You need to clean yourself up.”

  She flops down onto her back. “When did you become so serious, Bohdi? Chill out. It’ll be fine.”

  “It won’t be fine,” I growl, clenching my fists to fight the frustration. “We need to keep a roof over our heads. Step up and be a parent.”

  “Go find your father and tell him to be a parent.”

  I grind my teeth. “I have to go to work. You need to get up, Mom. You need to go to work tonight. Shower and sort yourself out.”

  She laughs bitterly, rolls, and grabs a half empty bottle of whiskey from the bedside table. I reach over and snatch it from her hands, tossing it against the wall where it shatters and the strong, bitter smell of whiskey fills the room. Mom jerks upright, her face scrunched in shock. “What is wrong with you?” she screeches. “Are you losing your mind?”

  “Get up.”

  “I’m sick, Bohdi. I have a headache.”

  “Because you haven’t had water for fuckin’ days. Get up, Mom. We need you to get up.”

  She shakes her head, scowling at me. “You’re so pushy. Sometimes I wish I had a daughter. A daughter would be more like me and less like him.”

  Frustration bubbles in my chest, mixed with hurt. She lashes out at me when she’s hungover, or drunk, or fucking sober.

  I’m her punching bag.

  “I’m going to work. Do what you fucking want. If you don’t go to your job, I’m moving out and you can fend for yourself.”

  She looks horrified by this. “Of course you’d leave, just like he did. You selfish little shit.”

  “He left because you’re a fucking waste of space,” I roar, the anger spewing out of me. “You’re useless.”

  I don’t mean it.

  I don’t.

  The moment the words come out, I step toward her with my hand extended, wanting to apologize.

  She stares at me in horror, and tears burst forth and roll down her cheeks. “You’re a horrible son. Get out.”

  “I didn’t mean it, Mom,” I say, my voice softer now.

  “Get out!” she screams.