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26

NAVY

PRESENT DAY

“So, these were those big plans you had for today?”

I stop short, lower the paint pole, and turn to meet Bodhi standing smugly at the threshold of my bedroom door.

“Do I not look productive to you?”

He walks toward me. “I don’t know. You tell me. Did you mean to get paint all over your bed?”

My eyes dart to the right. “Shit. No, no, no, no. Please come off.” I take the wet rag I’ve been using intermittently and attempt to scrub the deep violet paint off my comforter.

Thankfully, it must have just landed there because it wipes clean.

I won’t thank him for noticing, though.

I’ve been too nice to Bodhi lately—too close to forgetting.

I watch as Bodhi’s eyes scan my room, taking in my progress—or lack thereof. “Did you wake up this morning and decide ‘why the hell not’ paint my bedroom today?” he asks me with a chuckle.

“I didn’t know it had to be something I took months to plan out in my head, Bodhi. So, yes. I did.”

Choosing to ignore him any further, I turn to continue my painting, picking up the paint pole with roller and standing on my tippy toes to reach as far as I can.

“The ceiling, too?”

My tone is dry. “It’s an aesthetic. It gives off moody, sleepy girl vibes.”

“Moody, sleepy girl vibes? What does that even mean?”

Are we really doing this right now?

I huff. “I read it in a magazine, okay? The article said painting your bedroom ceiling and walls the same color will enhance your chance at sleeping tranquilly and without interruption.”

Bodhi walks even closer and picks up the gallon paint can from the disposable sheet on the floor. “Did studies also say Plum Crazy was an appropriate color choice?”

The arrogant bastard is enjoying this.

Without thinking, I swipe paint from my roller brush and flick it at Bodhi’s face. “Oops.” I attempt to act innocent. “It’s most definitely an appropriate color. Wouldn’t you think?”

Bodhi’s mouth drops open in shock before he swipes at the violet paint splatter across his cheek and neck. “Cute,” he tells me, looking oddly relaxed.

Hmm.

I turn back to my task, using a step stool to make sure I get the farthest corners of the ceiling. It took me no less than four hours to get all the walls painted. Although, I may end up needing two coats to make sure it doesn’t look blotchy.

If only I could stretch a little further…

“Here, let me,” Bodhi’s deep voice echoes from behind me, and I feel it as if it were across the most sensitive planes of my skin.

“I got it.” I need to do this on my own. I told Bodhi to let me move on and give me some space. I understand he’s trying to make himself useful, but this is definitely not helping.

I don’t need to see him being kind and domestic.

Bodhi’s hand reaches out to grab my elbow softly. “I know you do. Trust me, I’m aware you are more than capable, Navy. Doesn’t mean I can’t offer.”

I mean, he is a giant. I suppose I can let him help a little.

“Fine. But this isn’t me saying I need your help…it’s me accepting it and realizing your super tall and big…legs…will save me some time.”

Bodhi throws his head back and laughs. Christ, it’s the most full and effortless sound. “My legs?” He grins. “Sure. Glad I can be of service to you.”

I stand back and watch him reach every point I’ve been struggling to paint like it’s his damn job. He doesn’t even need the step stool.

I have to squeeze my eyes shut to fight myself from admiring the way his tree trunk thighs and ass look from behind.

That reach.

“You get tired of looking at your brother on these walls?” Bodhi asks, fixated on the trim.

I breathe out a deep sigh. “You have no idea how terrifying it is to wake up from a deep sleep and the first thing you see in the morning is a close-up of your brother’s face.”

Bodhi chuckles. “I get it.”

“I’ve seen enough pictures of him throughout my life. I don’t need it in my sanctuary.”

It doesn’t help that he’s famous in the sports world.

“You mean at home?” Bodhi looks back at me.

“Well, yeah. Not much when Cal was adopted, but as soon as he was signed with the Strikers, it was like Callaway Hayes threw up in my childhood home.”

I grab a single paintbrush and begin touching up some areas I missed.

“What about you?”

I smile softly. “Me? I mean, yeah, I had pictures of him, too, but nothing like my parents did.”

“I mean pictures of you. What about the pictures of you?”

Oh.

“They had pictures of me. Maybe not as many, but that’s okay.”

My relationship with my parents isn’t bad, by any means. They’re wonderful. But he’s not wrong for noticing less focus on me and more on Cal.

Bodhi stops his painting and turns to face me. “Is it though, Navy?”

What is with the questions?

“What are you getting at, Bodhi?”

He shrugs. “I’m just wondering why it seems you were forgotten about the second Cal was adopted. Now don’t get me wrong, Cal’s my best friend and I’m real fucking happy for him having a family, but I can’t help but consider how that may have affected you. They were your family first, after all.”

I feel tears threaten to spill but I fight them back. “I guess I never saw it like that. Cal is my favorite person in the entire world. There were never any hard feelings from me when he was adopted.”

Bodhi steps down and carries the stool to the other side of the room. I didn’t realize he would be helping me this much. Nothing about his behavior right now looks like he’s close to stopping.

“You talk to your parents much?”

My gaze finds him, and I take a moment to look into his eyes, begging for an underlying reason for his question.

He stares at me like he can read the deepest, darkest depths of my heart and mind. It’s as if knowing I’m acknowledging him is enough for Bodhi to understand my every thought.

“Not much,” I answer. “They’re busy.”

“They’re retired, Navy.” Okay, yeah, they are.

I roll my eyes. “That doesn’t mean they sit around and twiddle their thumbs all day.”

“I’m just sayin’...I wish it were different for you. Take it from someone without a mother in his life. You have one who is here and the fact that she forgets about you makes my blood boil.”

Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

“She doesn’t always forget about me,” I admit.

Bodhi steps off the stool, sits the paint can and roller down, and heads straight toward me. “Still too much,” he says, his voice low and sincere.

I look down and I don’t know why. I never cower, always hold my head up high, but when it comes to my relationship with my parents, I have no backbone.

The best word to describe my relationship with them is shallow.

It lacks depth, and I’ve learned to be okay with that.

“That’s okay. Cal grew up worse. I understand it,” I say.

“That’s no excuse!” Bodhi raises his voice, and I know it’s not at me but for me. “God, Navy, how can you not see how special you are?”

His thumb reaches out to touch my cheek and I wish my body were on the same page as my heart and reacted to his touch. But I stay still.

He can’t do this.

“You’re sending mixed signals, Bodhi. It’s not fair.” He pulls back like I burned him but doesn’t relent.

“It’s the truth, Navy. You can hate me all you want but it doesn’t make it any less true. I can’t help it. I’m always gonna look out for you.”

“I don’t need a savior,” I tell him, my tone short.

Bodhi grins. It’s like he’s made of steel and nothing affects him.

“Everyone needs saving every once in a while.”

“Yeah, well, not me. I’ve made it this far on my own.”

I’m not sure what feeling comes over him but he looks strangely sad.

“You’re right,” he says. It’s as if a switch flipped and back is stone-cold Bodhi. “Ceiling should be good. Let it dry.”

I nod, staying painfully still. “Thanks.”

He gathers the wet painting materials and folds them up into the disposable drop cloth while securing the lid on the paint and grabbing it all with both hands.

“Just leave it. I can clean it,” I say.

He ignores me and walks to the door. “Navy.”

I turn around to face him. “You’re doing a great job. You should be proud of yourself. I know I am.”

Then he turns and walks out the door, leaving me speechless in a freshly painted room without a single mess to clean.

I guess that’s one way to help me move on.