Page 42 of Quietly Falling
Turning before I tackle him to the bed, I stride back through the door, an extra sway in my step I hope he notices.
Because I have at least a couple more days with Bodhi before we have to head back home.
Back to reality.
I just hope this one looks a lot different than when we left.
* * *
BODHI
I sink downonto the end of the bed, the green and black comforter soft as I trace my finger over one of the moose silhouettes. The cabin is beautiful and cozy and I can picture wild family weekends with kids racing around every corner of the space before being relegated to the outside by the adults.
It’s a stark reminder of how different Ella and I are.
Right now it’s okay.
But how long until it’s too much for her to handle? How long until she’s looking for something more?
Pushing myself up from the mattress, I stalk into the bathroom and turn the faucet to cold, cupping my hands beneath the stream before splashing it on my face.
That’s enough of that.
Mason would be pissed if he saw me starting to spiral like this. But it’s not like I want to—and honestly, until I was trapped in a car with Ella, I hadn’t given romantic relationships much thought.
It became one of thoseI’ll deal with it when the time comeskind of things. Unfortunately, it looks like that time is now.
Drying my face and hands, I take a steadying breath before turning off the lights and heading back toward the living room.
“Man, you took forever,” Roman says the minute he spots me. “We’re probably gonna have to rock, paper, scissors over who gets what, but choices are pulled pork, Italian with everything, meatball, and a Rueben because I was feeling like mixing it up.”
Eden whacks him with her hand. “Stop offering my Rueben.” She turns to me, not the least bit sorry. “You can get one tomorrow if you’re that hard up for it.”
“I’m good with whatever.”
“No.” Ella scowls, slapping her hand on the counter. “You pick, Bodhi.”
“It’s fine, really,” I tell her because lunch options aren’t a hill I plan on dying on.
“I swear on those chocolate scones Rhea makes, I will call all over town right now and see what you order for lunch.”
I want to tell her that I don’t usually order lunch; it’s easier for me to make something at home rather than having to stop what I’m doing to go get it. And that’s if I remember at all.
“Meatball.”
“Thank you,” she sasses as Roman hold his fist on top of his open palm.
“Best two out of three,” he tells her, the two of them squaring off, their faces serious. Apparently this wasn’t a joke.
“The pulled pork sandwich is sacred. Roman wants it because he’s been gone for so long, and Ella just doesn’t want him to win,” Eden supplies. “If I hadn’t literally ordered this today because I want it, I’d definitely be throwing elbows for it too.”
“That good?”
She nods. “You’ll have to try it while you’re here. Where are you from?”
“New Hampshire originally but I’ve been in Blackstone Falls the last few years.”
“Everywhere you go is different with the rubs and sauces and how long they cook or smoke it. But for us, this one just feels like home, you know?”
