by Bella Jewel
“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.”
“You’re healed. You’re recovered.”
She is. Her mind fucking isn’t, though. She was never the same, and I get it, fuck, do I get it, but she is putting her entire life on hold obsessing over getting pregnant again. The only time she comes near me is when she’s ovulating. I can’t remember the last time we had sex and it actually meant a single fucking thing.
“I’m struggling, why can’t you see that? I can’t get pregnant, I’m suffering, Bohdi.”
I’m not going to argue with her. I can’t be bothered. “I’m going to work.”
“Why do you do this to me?” she cries as I walk out the door. “Why do you treat me like this?”
Anger bubbles in my chest, and I spin around. “How the fuck do I treat you, Isla? I fucking do everything for you. If it wasn’t for me, you’d have none of this. I let you live this free fucking life, and I don’t get a god damned thing in return. Go fuck yourself.”
I turn and storm out.
I shouldn’t have spoken to her like that, I know it, but I don’t fucking care.
I’m so done with caring about someone who couldn’t give a crap about me in return.
Maybe we should get a divorce, but if we do that now, I’m going to lose everything.
That shack, it’s the only thing I have left.
Literally the only fucking thing.
Without it, I’m left with nothing.
I’m not letting her take everything from me.
No fucking way.
“I’M PREGNANT,” ISLA says, walking into the kitchen, white stick in hand.
I look up from my bowl of spaghetti, and my heart jumps into my throat. What did she just fucking say? Pregnant?
No.
Sure we’ve been trying, but we’ve been trying for over three fucking years and, quite honestly, I thought it was never going to happen. I do want a family, but I’m not sure we’re in a position to be giving children the life they deserve. I can barely afford to feed us.
“What?” I ask, swallowing the thick lump in my throat.
“I’m pregnant. Look.”
She hands me the test, a clear plus sign on the screen.
She’s pregnant.
Fuck.
“When did this happen?” I ask, my voice tight.
“I missed my period, and thought I’d test. I can’t believe it, I’m so happy. Are you happy, Bohdi? This is what we’ve wanted.”
This is what she has wanted.
Nobody ever asks me what I want.
“It is what it is, doesn’t matter what I want.”
Her face drops.
“That’s it? That’s your reaction? I’m giving you a child and that’s how you treat me?”
“It’s great,” I lie. “I’m happy.”
“You’re a liar!” she screeches, picking up the television remote and tossing it at me. “All I do is listen to your lies. If you don’t want to be here, Bohdi, then why a
re you?”
Fucks me.
I close my eyes and listen to her rant and rave, until finally she gets angry enough to storm out the door, slamming it on her way. Memories of my mother doing the same thing flood my mind, and I think about tossing her body over that boat, in the dead of the night, after I killed her.
The thought still makes me sick.
I’m not fit to be a father—I couldn’t even be a decent son.
Nobody ever found her body, they still believe she just left me alone and ran off with some man.
Nobody cared enough to look into it further.
How fucking tragic is that?
Is that how my life is going to end? Without a single person even realizing I’m gone?
Isla is having a baby. A child. Something that is going to rely on me, that is going to need me and want me.
Something I have to take care of, and make sure I do right by.
The thought is terrifying, but maybe it’s what we need.
Maybe, just maybe, it’s the answer to our problems.
I stand and walk out of the shack and down to the beach where Isla is sitting in the sand, sobbing. It wasn’t fair, my reaction. I know that, but I struggle sometimes to give her the emotions she wants. I barely feel a fucking thing, let alone show it to someone else.
I sit beside her and reach out, taking her hand. “I’m sorry. I am happy, it was just a shock. But I’m happy, Isla. I want a baby with you.”
The words feel forced, but I say them anyway.
I say them because she needs me to say them.
It has nothing to do with wanting to say them.
God knows, I don’t know what I want anymore.
“Really?” she asks, wiping away her tears.
“Yeah, really.”
“I’m so happy, Bohdi. It has been so long, I thought you’d be as excited as I was.”
“I am.”
She turns and nestles into me. I stiffen, but she doesn’t seem to notice.
I close my eyes and pray for this emptiness to fade so I can feel again.
I can’t live the rest of my life like this.
I can’t.
13
NOW – MERLEIGH
“Congrats on your first day,” my new boss, Vienna, says, giving me a smile and a pat on the back. “You’re going to be a great part of the team.”
I exhale a sigh of relief. I was so nervous to start today, but the staff was lovely and Vienna made sure I had any instructions I needed to get through. I breezed through it and did really well. It was easy, and the people were great. I’m going to like working here, and knowing I’m finally doing something for myself makes me feel incredible.
“Thank you so much for giving me a chance,” I smile.
“Oh, honey, you’re easy to take a chance on. We’ll see you tomorrow then?”
I nod and wave to the other two girls working with me today, Henny and Cassie. They both give me a smile and a wave, and I pack my things and head out of the gorgeous little café that is now my place of work.
I smile all the way home, feeling on top of the world. When I arrive, I see Bohdi standing on my front porch. His face is still a mess, and he looks terrible, but that didn’t stop him from driving the few hours to deliver my first surfing lesson this afternoon. The sun is out, the waves are great, and it’s a gorgeous day on the beach.
“What’s that smile for?” he asks me when I walk up the front steps.
“I had a good first day. I got the job officially.”
“Good for you. You ready to surf?”
“Yep.”
I rush inside and get changed into a full body wetsuit that Bohdi insisted I wear so I don’t get stung anymore. He said it will also protect me from the sun. I laugh at myself as I stare into the mirror. I look terrible in this. My god. Why does anyone wear these things?
“This is the worst,” I say, walking outside. “I look like a walking sausage.”
Bohdi’s mouth twitches. “I think it suits you. Very nice.”
“You’re not being very nice when you lie like that.” I laugh softly. “Anyway, I’m ready.”
“Let’s go then.”
We walk down the track to the beach and Bohdi takes me to a little spot he has set up with two boards. I watch as he undresses and gets down to nothing but a pair of surfer looking shorts that go down to his knees and hug his hips so incredibly well. He’s gorgeous, my god, that skin and the muscles. He’s turning heads. Women walking past stop and stare at him, their smiles huge.
I can’t blame them.
Bohdi has it.
“So where do we start?” I ask, staring at the boards, and the ocean, and wondering how the hell this is going to work.
Bohdi places the boards flat on the ground. “Before we can even consider the water, you gotta get your balance here. So get on, have a feel. It should be a good match for you, but if it feels wrong, let me know, and we can change it.”
He’s referring to the board.
I step onto it and wobble around, putting my arms out and letting out a little yelp. “Oh my god, this is harder than it looks.”
“You wait until a wave is tryin’ to crash you down,” Bohdi says, stepping onto his board as if it’s the easiest thing in the world.
“You make that look easy,” I say, wobbling around.
“Been surfin’ a long time, though it’s been a while.”
“Have you surfed all your life?” I ask, finally getting my balance.
“Since I could swim.”
That’s pretty incredible.
“Once you get your balance, you want to practice movin’ about, making sure that you can keep your balance. Widen your hips a bit, don’t be afraid to bend your knees to give yourself some footing.”
He gets off his board and walks over, taking my hips in his hands and steadying me. My heart races, and I swallow, enjoying the feeling of his hands on my hips. He steadies me and then brings me down a little, making me bend my knees. “You gotta relax. If you’re stiff, you’ll never get up and stay up.”
“It’s hard,” I say, taking a deep breath.
“It is, but when you’re in that water, you’ll forget the rest of the world and it won’t be hard anymore, it’ll be life.”
I love the way he describes it. The way he explains his passion. I can feel it in his words, in his hands. The love he has for the ocean.
“Why a biker club?” I ask randomly, when he lets me go and goes back to his board.
He stares over at me. “Why not? I had no family, I couldn’t surf anymore without bein’ seen. A club was a place I could hide and stay hidden. They were a good fit.”
“I mean, I get it. I couldn’t see it before, but I can now. They really are a family.”
“Yeah, they are. They took me in and gave me a chance. Not many people would do that.”
He’s right, they wouldn’t.
“Once you’ve got your balance and are comfortable shifting your weight around the board, you’ll need to practice getting up and down. If you can’t get up, you won’t go anywhere. It takes a good while, but once you get it, surfing becomes a whole lot easier.”
I nod, and he encourages me to lie down on the board, explaining where to put my body, my arms, my legs, and how I’ll be paddling. We practice that, and then he shows me how to stand. I fall, stumble and trip so many times. It seems like it would be easy to just bounce up on a board—it certainly is not. After half an hour, I’m frustrated that I can’t seem to get it.
“How about we go do some paddling in the water?” Bohdi asks me, his mouth twitching at my frustration.
“So you can laugh at me drowning?”
He grins, and it takes my breath away. I’ve never seen him grin, god, I could only imagine in my wildest fantasies what he’d look like smiling and laughing. Seeing it, up close, does something to my heart. It makes me melt in a way I didn’t think was possible. The way it lights up his face—incredible. He has a dimple in his cheek t
hat’s so incredibly adorable I don’t dare point it out because I know he’d flip.
Bikers aren’t adorable.
I say nothing, even though I want to scream with joy that he’s grinning at me. Instead, I huff and get off my board, picking it up. “Well, let’s do this.”
“After you.”
We go into the water and Bohdi shows me how to paddle when there is surf around. It’s hard, and exhausting and my god I didn’t realize just how difficult it would be. It seems so easy – it is not. We finally get past the waves and out to where it’s calmer. Bohdi climbs onto the board, and I follow suit, and we sit with our legs dangling in the ocean, out in the middle of nothingness, just the two of us.
“I see why the ocean means so much to you. Out here it’s as if nothing could ever touch you.”
“Yeah,” he agrees, closing his eyes and breathing it in. “Club brings me freedom, but nothin’ in this world brings me peace like the ocean.”
“Why did you stop surfing?”
He opens his eyes and glances at me. “I had no choice. Life got complicated. I didn’t have time. Then, I disappeared.”
I still wonder what drove him to disappear like that. Sure, I know he found out some bad news, but what in his life made him so depressed that that news drove him to act like he was dead. I don’t know if he’ll ever tell me, but I do know that whatever he’s keeping a secret, it’s big enough to change the course of his life.
“Well, I’m happy to be out here. I’ve never been in the ocean like this. Before the other night, I hadn’t been in at all.”
“That’s a fucked existence.”
“Yeah, it is. But I’m here now. That’s all that matters.”
He nods. “Yeah.”
We sit in silence for long moments, and it’s anything but uncomfortable. In Bohdi’s presence, I feel relaxed and calm.
“I gotta tell you, the other night when you kissed me, I didn’t handle it well. I need to apologize for that.”
I’m taken aback by his statement.
I didn’t think he’d say anything about that.
Hell, I wasn’t about to mention it. No bloody way.
“It’s okay, I shouldn’t have done it. I understand you don’t feel the same way, and ...”
