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BODHI

“You think he’s alive?”

“Don’t know. Let’s find out.”

Clang. Clang. Clang.

What in the actual fuck? A sharp metallic sound clangs in my ear, making me launch up, my eardrum suffering the ultimate death.

Jesus. My eyes fly open, and I search for the nearest object to launch at Kingston’s face. Of course it’s Kingston, with Gus right by his side.

“What the fuck, King?” I groan.

“Yep. He’s awake,” King turns to tell Gus, who is standing beside him.

“He looks like hell,” Gus says, unashamed that the one he’s shit-talking is standing right in front of him with a coaster, ready to tackle his stupid ass to the ground.

Not that a coaster will do much, but it was the closest thing I could find.

“Someone wanna tell me why you thought it would be a good idea to sneak up on the dude with PTSD, banging a cooking pan?” I ask them.

Gus and King give each other a look before whispering, “Shit,” and break out into hysterical laughter. “Well, when you put it like that. You almost put us in the hospital with that coaster, man,” King jokes and Gus falls forward, hunched in deep chuckles.

“Idiots,” I whisper under my breath as I shake myself out of a sleep haze.

I take a moment to check my surroundings. I realize I’m on the couch, but I can’t for the life of me remember why.

Shit. I must have fallen asleep before Navy got home.

I forced myself to stay up and read to make sure she got home safely before I went to bed. One glance at the book on the floor confirms my rough night.

I had a nightmare. The terror of my mortifying dream rushes to the front of my mind.

But also, the image of the most stunning redhead I’ve ever seen settling me at the first touch of her hand replaces the anguish of terror.

Navy was here and she comforted me.

The magnitude of that has my stomach doing this weird fluttery thing that I recall feeling before when it comes to Navy.

More like every time I’m around the woman.

She persistently looks out for me…even when I don’t deserve it.

She also called me B. I remember that clearly.

Hearing her call me the name she once did before shit hit the fan between us felt like winning the fucking World Series. Even in a dead sleep and coming down from adrenaline, my insides leapt with satisfaction.

“You fell asleep out here,” Gus announces as if I didn’t already know that.

I look at Gus. “I did.”

The sound of descending footsteps pulls our attention as Mack and Navy come into view.

I need to pretend I don’t remember her helping me. She can’t know I stayed up for her or that I remember anything after she came home.

That includes Gus, King and Mack.

If I give them any sort of suspicion, they’ll likely relay that to Cal, and that’s the last thing I want. He already saw me show my ass last night for an inexcusable reason, one I’m sure he will be questioning me about when we’re alone.

I’m actually shocked he didn’t ask me about it when Navy left for her date.

Fuck. Her date. With Briggs.

I hope it sucked—for her sake.

No date could ever disappoint in the company of Navy Willow Hayes. I’m beyond repair when it comes to that vibrant and carefree woman.

Holy hell, just look at her.

I’m convinced Navy would look just as stunning in a piglet onesie as she does in head-to-toe Prada .

Navy walks in our direction—more like strides with class—in a hot pink sweater dress that meets her knees, with heeled boots that reach the top of her toned calves. She’s elegant and sexy—everything perfect in this world. She has on this necklace that looks like ten are tangled together and I don’t get it, but somehow she makes it look good.

It’s her untamed curls that make me crazy. Such an erotic thought for this early in the morning, but I can’t help it. All I see is Navy writhing underneath me as I bury my cock inside her, my hand tangling in her hair as she meets me thrust for thrust.

Fuckkkk. I have no chance of getting over her if she continues to walk out looking like an all-you-can-eat buffet featuring my favorite meal—a.k.a. her.

“You sleep out here, St. James?” Mack asks me, cutting off my thoughts. I must have been zoning out.

I nod. “Yeah, passed out early.”

He nods in response while Navy idles beside me in the kitchen, drinking her coffee. “God, I love coffee,” Navy says.

My head shoots up.

“Just the way you like it, Navy girl,” King responds—I’m sorry—lies.

My eyes dart to his, finding them already on me. He sends me a menacing smile and I make note to ask him about it later.

We drink our coffee in silence, the elephant in the room taking up most of the space.

I need to know how her date went.

“How was your date with Briggsby?” Gus asks.

Thank you, my friend.

Navy sets her coffee on the kitchen counter, busying herself with making her breakfast. I bet she’ll pop a bagel in the toaster and settle on a key lime yogurt.

Her favorite.

“It went great,” Navy mutters with excitement and my insides deconstruct. “We didn’t even see a movie. We sat and talked for hours at the restaurant.”

No. No. This is not good. They were so wrapped up in conversation with each other that they forgot about the movie. Fucking hell. I knew it.

“Sounds like you both clicked. That’s good,” King comments.

Don’t encourage it, Kingston.

“A promising relationship,” Gus says.

Fuck you, August Graves.

“Yeah, we did. He’s a great guy,” Navy says.

Briggs is a really good dude, of course she would have a good time with him. Why couldn’t she go out with our team rookie, Jethro, hate every second of it, and end up back in the dating pool?

I’m acting sour. I want Navy to genuinely find happiness—but only with me.

“I did come home to Bodhi asleep like the dead on the couch,” she tells the guys.

Gus chimes in, “That sounds about right. He woke up looking freshly fucked.” He chuckles.

Bastards. They know I haven’t fucked anyone in longer than I’m proud of.

Navy giggles and I lift my head, signaling to her that we both know that’s not what happened.

“You caught me.” I’m being as dry as I can, ready for this conversation to be over.

“Briggs is a good dude, Navs. You can’t get much better than him,” King tells her.

Who asked him anyway?

“I think so too,” Navy agrees.

She gave him hours of her precious time and I doubt he even appreciates it how he should. Actually, he probably does, but still. I hate that he got hours of her uninterrupted attention in public.

The kind of time I could only dream to have with her.

I need to occupy my hands before I break something.

I see Navy’s eyes follow my movement to the sink as I begin to wash the dishes.

“Did you kiss him?” Gus asks like a squeaky teenage girl. I freeze at his question, silently dreading her answer.

“He kissed me goodnight,” Navy admits in a whisper, as vomit begins to force its way up my throat.

Crash.

I’m startled by a loud shatter, realizing I fumbled the wine glass in my hands, causing it to break in the sink. Shit.

“Jesus, Bodhi. You good, man?” Mack asks.

“I’m fine,” I spit out as I quickly clean up the shattered shards and bring them to the trash can.

“Here, let me help,” Navy rushes to my side, attempting to assist me.

“I’ve got it.” I stop mid-stride and turn my attention to her so she can see the seriousness in my stare.

“I’m sure you do, but I want to help,” Navy argues in an edgy tone.

I send her a sharp look and chose to ignore her. If she wants to help, then fine. The shattered pieces fall into the trash and the sound of Navy’s sharp inhale sends goosebumps across my skin. “Bodhi, you’re bleeding. Come here. Let me clean you up.”

Shit, I am bleeding. Somehow, I didn’t even feel it.

The admission of Navy kissing Briggs feels more painful than any insignificant cut ever could.

“I’m good,” I tell her, attempting to pull away.

I don’t know why I even try.

Navy laughs lightly. “Sure you are, Superman. You’re indestructible, we know this. But even Superman accepts help sometimes.”

Superman? I like the sound of that far too much.

“Fine. A Band-Aid will do.”

Navy guides me by my injured hand into the laundry room. I stand back as she locates the first aid kit stored in the cabinet above the washing machine. “I should have a butterfly bandage in here somewhere…” Navy says, searching for it frantically.

My uninjured hand reaches out to stop her movement. “Navy, it’s fine. A simple Band-Aid will do.” Her eyes pierce into me.

It’s as if she’s so worried about the simplest cut that she doesn’t realize her reaction sounds like panic.

I’m fine. She knows that. I know that.

Yet, she can’t handle not helping me.

“Right…okay. Here. This should work.”

Navy holds my turned over hand in the softness of her palm while she cleans it carefully with peroxide. I wince. Not from the sting of the cut, but from the sting of her touch.

My body responds to the smallest contact with her.

The strange flutters return with a vengeance, and I take this still moment between us to admire her natural beauty while she cleans me up. The light dusting of freckles that cover her face brightens the light color of her skin. You’d think freckles would disguise her beauty, but they only enhance it, making the softness of her complexion mesmerizing.

I feel weak at the exposure of her natural beauty.

I long to touch her. To drag my thumb across her delicate cheek and feather kisses across her skin, watching as goosebumps from my touch flood her body with passion.

The thought of her lips ghosting mine sounds just as heavenly.

“You are breathtaking,” I tell her, and I mean it.

I’m not ashamed of my admission. Navy deserves to be told how stunning and devastating she is every day of her existence.

Whether she’s mine or not, I’ll continue to tell her until my last breath.

Let another man tell me I can’t.

Navy pauses as she closes her eyes and soaks in my words. I’ll continue my affirmations if that’s what she needs.

I want her to feel adored.

But that’s all I can offer. She’s my friend. My friend who I’m almost positive I’m in love with and stand no chance at a future with.

“You can’t say things like that to me.” Her green orbs remain closed, giving me a glimpse of her long lashes complimented by her freckles.

“Why’s that?” I whisper.

The bandage is on my skin, it has been for minutes now. No further treatment is needed, yet neither of us makes a point to move.

“Because it confuses me,” Navy says as she slowly opens her eyes to look into mine, “and it hurts.”

My face softens at the heaviness of her openly sharing the pain I’ve caused her.

I hate myself for it. But she couldn’t know it was all a lie. It’s the only way I can protect her, and myself, from ruining our relationship with Cal.

I nod solemnly.

“If there’s never a chance between us, you need to let me get over you,” Navy admits in one last devastating blow.

Mhm. That’s not what any man wants to hear. “I won’t lie and say it’s for the best, Navy—because it’s not. But I get it.”

She nods. “So you’ll give me some space? Let me move on from you on my terms. You can’t keep cornering me like this, Bodhi.”

I smirk. “Now, I wouldn’t go that far, terremoto.” I trace the bottom of her pink lip with my thumb.

Navy grabs my wrist before I can pull it away. “Why do you keep calling me that? What does it mean?” she asks sternly.

“It means little earthquake.”

Her eyes question me, and I can see the definition surprised her. “Meaning…”

Wouldn’t she like to know? I pull back slightly, putting a good distance between us. “If I told you, that would be the opposite of giving you space. I wouldn’t want you to fall in love with me, Navy. You’re trying to get over me, remember?”

I’m teasing her and it’s working.

Navy is similar to me in every way—we want what we can’t have. It’s a never-ending battle within ourselves to refrain from taking it and carrying on.

“Right, noted,” she says. “Well, I should get going. I’ve got plans.”

“Have a good time. You deserve it.”

“I will,” she responds, leaving me standing in the laundry room alone to watch her walk away.

I can hear the guys hollering in the living room, asking where we’ve been and what took so long.

I’m immune to all of it.

Right now, I need a second to regroup from the fact that Navy admitted to my face she’s moving on.