Page 68 of Tell It To The Waves

You don’t owe me an apology, Bohdi. You need to give that to your brother.

Please don’t message me anymore. We have nothing to talk about. The sale is over. We can be cordial when we see each other, but that’s as far as I want things to go.

I try to lie to him and to myself as anger flows through me. Anger at myself for letting him get so close to me. Anger for Kai.

Pushing myself up on my headboard, I know I won’t be able to fall asleep now. I sit there, shaking my head, wanting to message Baylee, but I don’t. She doesn’t need my drama.

I look down at my phone and see his text bubbles appear and disappear, finally not popping up again. “Good,” I sneer down at the phone like he can hear me.

To let my guard down around Bohdi is like handing him my heart and saying, ‘Do whatever you want to do with it.’ And I can’t do that. Because even though I’ll never voice it, he could ruin me so easily, and I would let him, happily. Those brief moments of lust and all-consuming want would be worth it, even for one night. But I know the aftereffect will wound the heart I haphazardly bandaged so long ago.

Letting myself be close to him has woken up something in me that has been dormant, and I can feel those feelings rising. They never truly went away; I just learned how to mute them, not feel them, and move on. I think that is a thing about losing someone you love so much; you become natural at cutting off emotions. You learn how to shove them down. My mom’s death taught me how to shut my heart off. And I think that is the saddest part that came out of her passing. I know she wouldn’t want me like this; she’d want me to feel every emotion, even the ones that break you. But I broke so hard, I almost couldn’t put myself back together from her heartbreak and Bohdi’s, that it frightens me just thinking about it.

Lying in the quiet room, memories of the first time he snuck through my bedroom window replay. Him tripping on the windowsill, falling loudly. My mom coming and checking on what the noise was, and me hurriedly pushing him down so she couldn’t see him from her view of the bedroom door.

That night we didn’t have sex. We explored one another. Learned what the other liked, what made us moan deeper, and which place that was touched took our breaths away.

It was slow and intimate, something I’d never forget. The way we lay kissing until the sun came up, hands not stopping touching the other for even a moment.

That was the night I can truly say I fell in love with Bohdi Westmore. In my childhood summer bedroom, while the waves sang and freshly eighteen.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

With everything in me, I want to go to dinner tonight, but I can’t. I can’t sit around a table with the people who know me the best, even though they don’t think they do, and pretend that I don’t have this huge fire roaring behind me, ignoring it.

The only thing I can do is walk the beach and try to forget what was going on in that moment. So, that’s what I do, as I try to brainstorm how to get the rest of the money. To get away from the Williams for good. But I kept coming up empty.

Getting the two hundred and fifty thousand dollars from the sale of the shop will put a dent in what they want, but not close, not even a bit.

I can’t live unhappily, I know I could go back to Molly, profess my love and apologize, all lies, and she’d take me back. But I can’t.

The thought of getting a loan for over a million doesn’t sound feasible, especially for someone like me who doesn’t have collateral. I feel stuck, because I am. Stuck and alone in all this, carrying a burden I won’t let others carry.

Checking my phone, it’s barely ten p.m. and I need a drink.

Walking my way back to town, I head straight to Pirate’s Hideaway, in need of something strong.

Saddling up to the bar, I spot the bartender from the night I ran into August here. He smiles at me, immediately recognizing me.

“One Jack and Coke and a shot of tequila, whatever is your bottom shelf.” Knowing the cheaper shit will screw me up faster.

Sliding me my shot, I catch it, barely spilling the liquid, and immediately shoot it back. The burning traveling down my throat makes me hiss a breath out, slamming down the small glass. Raising my index finger to let him know I want one more.

“You can’t run out any of my customers tonight,” he tells me before handing me my glass of Jack and Coke.

Raising the glass to him, I say, “Promise.” I take a huge sip; the Coke not doing a good enough job hiding the Jack.

“Here.” I’m slid another shot, but this time, the bartender raises his own shot glass. Nodding my head, I salute him before we both take them. Slamming the glasses on the bar. “My name is Cal. If you need anything, call for me.” He throws his rag over his shoulder, walking to the end of the bar.

I sit there for a while before getting Cal’s attention. “Let me get a bucket of Bud Light, and I’m going to move to the back booth.”

“Got you.”

I can feel the two shots of tequila flowing through my veins as I walk to the back of the bar. The corner is dark and away from everyone else, which is what I need.

The alcohol flows through me, taking my critical thinking. My fingers itch to text a long paragraph professing everything and revealing it all. From Molly to the Williams and my family. The weight that is on my shoulders and the fear I’ve been dealing with since. But I don’t. This isn’t August’s to carry. This is mine and only mine.

Three beers down, I say fuck it and text August, but her reply is exactly what I knew would come. And her telling me not to message her anymore, that stung.