Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 69398 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69398 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
Bohdi’s whole body tenses. “I should have killed him.”
I take his chin in my hand, forcing him to tip his head back and look at me. “What you did for me tonight, Bohdi ... Nobody has ever defended me like that. I don’t think you’ll ever fully understand how much that means to me.”
“He hurt you,” he growls.
“Yes, he did.”
“He shouldn’t be breathing.”
“No, he shouldn’t, but it can’t be you to take that from him. You’re better than that.”
“Am I?”
His eyes are locked onto mine now, and his question gives me pause.
What does he mean by that?
I’m not sure I understand.
“I think you are,” I answer.
Is that what he wants me to say? I don’t know.
“Well, maybe you’re wrong.”
“And maybe I’m right.”
He closes his eyes, and I keep cleaning his face until there is no dried blood left and everything is cleared off. Then I make sure his wounds aren’t deep. They’re not, but he’s going to have a good amount of bruises. His hands are messed up and one of his fingers is swollen. I don’t think it’s broken but he’s a man, and I’m not about to mention getting an x-ray.
“You’re all done,” I say softly.
He stands, staring at me, his eyes so lost, so confused.
We have so much to say, yet neither of us are going to say it.
“Thanks for fixin’ me up.”
He walks to the door.
“Bohdi?” I say, before he reaches it.
He looks back.
“Thank you.”
He nods.
Then he’s gone.
And my heart feels a little emptier than it did before.
I wish it would stop.
But I’m afraid it never will.
12
THEN – BOHDI
23 YEARS OLD
“Sherry is at it again,” Isla says, walking into the shack and throwing her handbag down. “She’s crazy. One hundred percent.”
Sherry is Isla’s sister and the only person in her family who talks to her, even now. Her mom and dad still hold a grudge and considering nobody is moving on that, they haven’t spoken to one another. Sherry is the only one, and quite frankly, I wish she wasn’t. She’s utterly fucking crazy and constantly causes drama, but she’s the only family Isla has around, so we spend a fair amount of time with her, and her husband, Daniel.
“What’s she doin’ now?” I ask, running wax over my board.
“She’s accusing me of sleeping with Daniel.”
I look up. “That again.”
“Yep. She said because I was there when she got home today, I must be sleeping with him. But I was only there to see her. I didn’t know she was out. She was drunk when she came home, that’s probably it.”
“She’s got a problem, that makes people crazy.”
Isla exhales. “Yeah. Anyway. I feel sorry for Daniel, I honestly don’t know how he sticks around. She’s my sister, I love her, but she’s hard work.”
Fuck, I have to agree.
Sherry is hard work.
“Speakin’ of work, I gotta go. I’m on doubles tonight.”
I put the wax down and turn to Isla. From afar, people probably think we have a great life together. I mean, it’s not fucking horrible but it’s far from great. We fight a lot, we rarely sleep together, and we have been trying for a baby for the last god knows how many years, which is quite frankly, exhausting.
I should love my wife more.
I should care more.
But I find it hard to, I really do.
She makes it hard.
She’s rarely here, she misses work, and when she is around, she’s distracted. I’m lifting the weight of the family, working and keeping a roof over our heads, but I’m fucking drowning. I’m miserable, unhappy, and missing out on a life I thought for sure I was going to have. Sean and Carson are long gone, taking their surfing careers around the world.
That was meant to be me.
I try not to live with regret, but I do.
I fucking hate my life, and what makes it worse is that it was my choice to marry Isla and be a better man than my father, to wash away the sins of my mother, but in doing that, I’ve darkened my soul to a point I’m not sure I’ll ever return from.
“You’re working again?” Isla asks, crossing her arms.
“Someone has to.”
I grab my keys and phone.
“What’s that supposed to mean, Bohdi?”
I’m not in the mood for yet another fight, so I don’t answer her.
“I’m speaking to you,” she says, narrowing her eyes.
“I’m not going to fight with you, Isla. I’m done fighting.”
“Then why are you here?”
I look to her. “Because you’re my fucking wife.”
“You hate me so much, I don’t understand why you bother.”
I exhale, angrily. “I don’t fuckin’ hate you, but it would be nice to have some help around here. You’re always out, I do fucking everything. I’m workin’ two jobs, trying to keep us afloat while you galivant around town. Why don’t you look at getting a job, too?”
She stares at me, horrified. “You know about my health problems after losing our baby. I have never been the same since, and you’re asking me to do something that causes me pain.”