Page 125 of Stroked Long
What is with the door being locked?
This goes further than his OCD. There is something else he never told me, something I wish he had because I wouldn’t feel so helpless right now. Maybe if I knew, I could have helped avoid this entire situation.
“We can call him on the way back to our room,” Lauren says, patting Eva on the shoulder. “Best thing we can do is figure out how to tackle this head-on.”
“You’re right,” Eva agrees, staring at the medals on the table. “Did he leave those?”
I look down at the cases and nod my head, tears falling from my eyes. I can’t hold them back any longer; my emotions have worn thin, and I’m at my breaking point. I want Bodi back. I want his strong arms wrapped around me. I want to run my fingers up under his shirt, along his bare back, and tell him in a soothing tone that everything is going to be okay.
Eva sighs and sits next to me. She wraps her arm around my shoulder and pulls me into a hug. “This has nothing to do with you.”
“Then why does it feel like it does, like I ruined everything?”
“You didn’t. Bodi has demons he’s still dealing with. They came to a crashing halt this morning. You were just here to witness it.”
“No, I didn’t lock the door. I had no clue that was something that mattered.” Barely containing my sobs, I ask, “Why does that matter?”
Eva exchanges a look with Lauren who nods her head. Taking a deep breath, Eva asks, “Do you love him, Ruby? Or is this just something fun you’re doing for the summer?”
I look her dead in the eyes, and my lip trembles as I say, “I’m so in love with your brother, Eva. I’m so desperately and hopelessly in love with him.” More tears fall as I think about the loss I endured this morning.
I can’t do this.
His words play on repeat over and over in my head. We can’t be over, can we? Was that his way of breaking everything off? I pray it wasn’t. I’ve never known this sort of heartache.Never.I don’t think my heart could withstand not being with him. In such a short amount of time, he’s become so vital to me. To my heart. To my mind. To my body.To my soul.
Breaking me out of my thoughts, Eva says, “Then I think we need to have a chat.”
***
The flight back home to Los Angeles was pure torture. Fifteen hours of Eva’s story running over and over in my head, of not hearing from Bodi, of not being able to make sure he’s okay. The poor man next to me had to hear me sniffle, cry, and sniffle some more as I buried my head against the airplane window with my hood sheltering me from everything around me. The pain scorching through me was almost too much to handle.
My poor, sweet man.
He heard their parents being murdered. At such a young age, sitting in a tub, clinging for dear life to his older sister. I can’t stop crying over the knowledge of a young Bodi, scared out of his mind, taking the blame for the intruder who killed his parents.He was only twelve years old. A baby.Every time the thought crosses my mind, I go through a whole new round of tears, of sorrow, of heartache, feeling sick to my stomach.
I can’t imagine going through such a traumatic event and feeling the blame for it.
Eva held my hand the entire time she told me their story, reassuring me she’s okay, but making it clear that Bodi is not.
It explains his OCD, why he needs such rigid order in his life. It’s the reason he keeps people at a distance.He fears losing them.When he lost his parents, he shut down emotionally and only focused on one thing—swimming.No wonder he is so socially awkward. He’s like a twelve-year-old boy.
His awkwardness around me, his phone calls at eight thirty, his panic in Target, his panic in my apartment when I didn’t lock the door . . . everything falls into place like a perfect Tetris puzzle. It all makes sense.
One moment in his life has shaped him to the man he is today—the man I love more than life itself.
If only he knew.
Fifteen hours on a plane, dehydrated from crying, and looking like a hot mess, I don’t even bother heading to my apartment. I drive straight to Bodi’s condo, praying he’s there.
Eva called Dr. Auburn, and he informed her he has yet to hear from Bodi, and we need to show our support. A lot of help he was.
Part of me hopes and prays that when he sees me, when he opens his door to find me on the other side, he envelops me into his strong hold and leans on me for support. But the other part of me fears he will continue to distance himself, that he will use this as an excuse to give up, to throw in the towel.
I can’t do this.
Thatpart of me has my stomach churning in knots with the thought of losing this incredible man.
Luckily for me, there is parking outside of Bodi’s condo. I take his stairs two at a time and, without taking a breath, I knock on his door. The baggy sweatshirt I’m wearing is wrung out by my hands as I wait for him to answer. Impatient, I knock again.
