Page 64 of Three Pucking Words
“We haven’t talked since our divorce until last night when he texted me,” I finish, sighing as I lean my head against the headrest.
I can feel Bodhi’s eyes pinning me to my seat before I turn my head toward him.
“You were married?” he asks, unblinking.
Oh. Right. I guess that’s not common knowledge. “Yep” is my drawn-out response, popping the P. “Not one of my finer moments. Neither of my parents were there. It was his family, my best friend Mila, and a couple other mutual friends we had. We were young and dumb and in love. Or, at least, I thought we were. Now I’m not so sure.”
Bodhi is still staring at me silently.
I frown. “What?”
“I didn’t know you were…”
“It’s not a bad word,” I tease, hoping to lighten the mood. “Divorce isn’t a bad word either. Sometimes it’s just part of life. If there were things I could change, I would. But I can’t. I hate that I’m letting his text me upset me, but it does.”
He never apologized for what he did. Never owned up to his part in our relationship failing. He’d basically put it all on me, which was unfair.Sounfair. But I let him. Because, again, I’m dumb. And because I also blamed myself.
Bodhi peels his eyes away, his jaw moving as if he’s grinding his teeth. Is he mad? He has no reason to be. Unless he has a thing against marriage. Some people aren’t into that kind of end game, and that’s okay.
“Sorry,” I apologize, earning his stricken expression again. “I didn’t mean to bring up something so personal. I’ll—”
“You have nothing to apologize for” he cuts me off, furrowing his brows. “I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at…” He shakes his head, squeezing the back of his neck and then rubbing the same area. “I’m mad athim, and I don’t even know the guy. He sounds like a giant idiot.”
“I’d like to think he is,” I joke half-heartedly.
Bodhi’s eyes feel heavy on my face. “He was a moron for letting you go. I don’t know what happened between you two, but I do know that you’re a kind person. A beautiful woman. There’s something about you…” His words trail off, and he looksaway for a brief moment as if needing to collect himself. “If he was dumb enough to let that all go, then fuck him. He doesn’t deserve you.”
He doesn’t deserve you.
Mila said the same thing. So did her parents. It isn’t that I don’t believe them, because I do. I gave the best version of myself to Max. I gave almosteverythingto him. My heart. My effort. My time. My love. And he used all of those things to get what he wanted until he didn’t need them anymore. Until he didn’t needme.
Wetting my lips, I let out a tiny breath. “And who do I deserve, Bodhi?”
His throat bobs as he swallows, but his eyes don’t leave mine. “A friend. It’s always good to start with a friend.”
A friend.
The meaning is bigger than that.
Him.
He’s saying I deservehim.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Bodhi
There’s a lotof things I don’t understand in life. Like why parallel parking is part of the driving test when very few people probably do it after, or why the school system prioritizes algebra over learning how to balance a checkbook, or why the government requires everybody to get a real ID as if the IDs most of us have had our whole lives aren’t “real” enough.
But one of the mysteries I’m not sure I’ll ever grasp is why a murderous feeling came over me when I found out that Honor Erikson was married. Whatdoestake over my body is a desire to put my fist into the asshole who clearly didn’t know what he had when it was right in front of him.
There’s a possessiveness I feel toward her that I have no right to, and I know it. Accept it, even. This goes beyond that.
Unfortunately, I don’t know who this Max dude is, where he lives, or even his last name. It stewed in me as I sat out our game against California to pay out the penalty for missing practice to care for Gemma. That left a lot of time to brew in the unwarranted anger I felt for a complete fucking stranger without a way to let it out.
Which is why it’s unfortunate that one of the players on Seattle’s team just so happens to be named Max. He gets the brunt of my frustration taken out on him during our second away game. The unnecessary aggression radiating through my body sends me to the penalty box.
Twice.
