Page 12 of Crossroads

“As long as I don’t inconvenience you. I can make sure I try my best.”

I swore his lips twitched, or maybe I was just seeing things that I wanted to.

“Anyway, thank you. Seriously, I’m going to go down there myself next time. I promise. I need to not be a recluse in this cabin.”

Bodhi merely raised a brow at me, and I blushed.

“Well, I mean, there can only be one grumpy cabin person at a time, and I suppose you already have that down?”

This time, his lips did quirk into a small smile, and I felt like I had finally done something right. “That’s right. I don’t like to share.”

Now that felt like a lie. Considering he was letting me stay at his cabin and had given me food. Food I would find a way to pay him for, because I knew he would just give my money back. He had already done that before.

I stood there awkwardly for a second before moving back and gesturing with one hand. The bags still there. “Do you want to come in? I mean, it is your cabin.”

“I need to check the filter. I won’t be long.”

I nodded before moving toward the kitchen with him following. When I turned to set the bags on the counter, I noticed his gaze had gone to my guitar, the empty pages, those notes in front of me. All of it, scattered over the coffee table.

My stomach tightened, my body going into a cold sweat. I had been trying to write, and I couldn’t think of a single new thing. There was something wrong with me. But that was obvious, wasn’t it?

“I didn’t know you played guitar.”

“I play guitar, drums, and the flute.”

He raised a single brow, that curiosity on his face making him look so much lighter. “The flute? I didn’t know you guys had that in the band.”

My mouth went dry, even though I knew he was just teasing. But we didn’t talk about the band. Yes, his brother-in-law was in it, but his brother—his twin—had been part of it, had been in my place. Or rather, I was in Malcolm’s place again. And I did not want to think about that.

“I’m sure there are a few songs that could use the flute, but no, I played the flute in middle school and high school. It was the only way for me to be part of the band.” I couldn’t help the bite in my tone, but those memories had never gone away. What had entrenched me for so long and pulled me into the life I had today.

“You didn’t play drums in band? I know they have them. Especially since I know Houston, Texas, and marching bands are sort of a thing there.”

“They’re sort of a thing in Colorado, too, but yes, I did rhythm and marching band. I was a little blonde girl who liked to wear dresses, and therefore I was in the winged section.”

I started to put things away, suddenly far more nervous than I had a right to be.

He continued to study my face, but I didn’t say a word. “Who forced you?”

My shoulders tensed, and I knew he was talking about the band, not anything else. I took a moment to find the saliva in my mouth in order to respond. “My dad. The band leader was a sexist asshole, too, in middle school. He was an asshole. He was certainly set on girls being with girly instruments and boys with boy instruments, which was ridiculous, since there’s no such thing, but that was his mindset.”

“And in high school?”

“I could have moved over to percussion, since I had already learned how to play on my own, albeit with pots and pans, and anything I could hit with sticks.” I rolled my eyes, a soft laugh escaping. “Our high school band director hadn’t really minded. My dad did.” I swallowed hard and then pulled out everything to make a Southwest chicken salad. I wasn’t sure what Bodhi had been thinking of when he bought me the groceries, but I could make something with this.

Bodhi, in turn, leaned against the wall and folded his arms over his chest. His short sleeves moved up, baring his forearms, and the ink and scars were silhouetted for the first time in full. He had leaves and barren branches on one arm, with dark green and red flames on another. Beneath the flames themselves were his scars from whatever fire he had been in, and he had a few other scars underneath the branches. I wasn’t sure where else he had ink, but I really liked the look of those.

And I needed to back away from that. There was no way I was going to be attracted to this man. That would just be rude. For everybody.

“I know you said you had nowhere else to go, and that’s why I’m here. And you said that nobody would find you here. Hopefully you would be safe, but do I need to be worried about your dad too?”

My gaze shot to him as I dropped the knife I had been holding. It clattered on the cutting board, the sound echoing through the small cabin, and I swallowed hard. “My dad’s dead. He OD’d. Just like my mom. He’s not around to boss me around anymore.”

I quickly picked up the knife and went to dicing tomatoes, since I could easily use the rotisserie chicken without having to cook anything. It worked this way.

“I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

I paused in the act of reaching for another tomato and turned. “Thank you. I don’t really miss them. Which sounds like a terrible daughter, but they weren’t really great parents to begin with. And they weren’t the drug addicts that you think of. Not like many of the ones in my business,” I said dryly. “No, they were the prim and proper set who golfed and played tennis and were part of the club. Dad wore his polos, Mom with her little twin sets, and they were aghast that their precious daughter had tattoos and piercings. Which was probably why I kept adding color to my hair and adding more piercings.” I shook my head.