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“And Beth, what?” I challenge my dad instead, moving into the kitchen, not just wanting but needing to know why Bowdie was even saying my name right this second.
“I was just trying to let Bowdie know… about Lucy and Josh,” Dad whispers with gritted teeth, keeping his voice low and looking like a man who wished he’d said nothing.
I feel a wave of relief. If Bowdie’s mad at Lucy, it must mean…
No. No, you don’t, Beth. Don’t go telling yourself that, and don’t freaking say it!
It must mean he loves me.
I know. Lame, right? This is the stuff I’ve told myself for so long. My motor mouth is hard to switch off the things I’ve been telling myself for so long if only to stop feeling like I’ll wither completely unless I can be with Bowdie somehow. That was my mind when he was away. Now that he’s right in the hallway, I can see how dumb and dangerous this fantasy is. Until now, I had no idea how much of my emotions I’ve invested in this—invested in him—heart and soul. I can feel it.
Dammit, this is gonna hurt.This forbidden crush of mine. My dirty little secret. Okay, maybe myseconddirty little secret, but anyone with eyes could see that a girl my height with curves meant for someone a foot and a half taller is most likely a virgin. An eighteen-year-old who still lives with her dad and has a bunk bed with pink blankets, for Christ’s sake.
What hope in hell did I think I’d ever have with a real man like Bowdie? But he got so mad because he thought I was the one with a boyfriend. There I go again. It’s such a perfect fantasy. I can’t let it go.
Bowdie reappears in the doorway, making me lose all my courage about telling him or announcing that I do not have a boyfriend, in case anyone was wondering. As usual, I gum up when I look into his eyes. His creased mouth at an angle to his chiseled, unshaved-for-the-day jawline makes my mind completely blank.
“Lucy wants to be left alone. She’ll be fine,” Bowdie remarks, glancing at my dad before he puffs his cheeks and lets out a long breath.
“You gonna stay for dinner?” my dad asks, more accustomed to the high level of drama that can unfold late in the afternoon on a Wednesday, especially with two young ladies in the house. Though for the life of me, I have no idea what’s up with Lucy all of a sudden.
“Of course, but I’m buying,” Bowdie asserts, making my chest hurt when he turns away, keeping his eyes down and away from mine as if he can’t stand to look at me now, making me wonder exactly what he and dad were arguing about all over again. They both seem to have moved on, sipping beer and discussing takeout options while I try to process how my day could get any worse, even though it’s the highlight of my year to see Bowdie again. I wish it could just be the two of us.
“I can drive!” I almost shriek, desperate to find a way to be alone with Bowdie, to know for sure if it’s just me or my overactive, hormonal brain playing tricks on his hot and cold routine. I mean, looking at me like he did and then ignoring me. Maybe I am losing my mind.
“We’ll just get takeout, honey,” my dad murmurs, flipping a sheaf of menus pinned to the fridge with magnets. “Unless you want to take us all out to a fancy restaurant?” he grins, deliberately teasing Bowdie, who again twitches his head to almost look at me. I can see the muscles in his neck, tempering his head down at the floor.
“Takeout’s fine,” he rasps, rubbing the back of his neck and shifting across the kitchen, stepping out onto the porch again.
“Don’t mention Josh, okay?” Dad murmurs in my ear, passing by me to join his best friend with his hand in his back pocket, fishing for his phone to order food.
I don’t think I could ever eat again if this lump of lead in my gut is all I’m gonna be left with. Is it possible to die a virgin? I mean, has it ever happened? I suppose not. I’ll probably be the first.
The sound of the front door closing rapidly jolts my attention, making me swivel my head from left to right. “Lucy?” I call up the hall, taking slow steps with my head cocked, hoping someone hasn’t just let themselves in, but the bathroom door is open, and after checking my room, I see it’s empty. With quick steps, I reach the front door, pulling it open and sticking as much of myself out into public view as I dare.
“Luce!?” I half call out.
Now where the hell would she have gone?
CHAPTERFOUR
Bowdie
“Sorry, Brad,” I murmur once we’re alone on the porch again, wondering just how long it is before I have to use the same words with my oldest friend to explain something else—not that I’d be sorry, only sorry I didn’t claim her sooner.
Jesus, man, give it a rest, will ya!?
“Just had a lot on my mind lately. The research project. Y’know…” I volunteer, hoping it’ll be enough to explain my outrageous behavior so far, but Brad is a true friend. We both know we’ve weathered bigger storms than an awkward homecoming. We’ve seen each other bent way more out of shape in our twenty-plus years of friendship, but his response still surprises me.
I mean, his level of interest throws me. “Whydidyou come back so soon, Bo?” he asks, looking concerned in a clinical way, even leaning in a little. He peers at me like I’m an open wound that needs stitching. “I heard you quit the whole project and broke a two-year contract without notice. Is that true?” he asks me point-blank. Not a suspicious tone or look from him, but he is too curious for me to have an answer on the fly that doesn’t involve the words “fucking” and “your daughter” in the same sentence.
I feel my jaw moving, open and closed, but I don’t know what to say. Brad crimps his mouth, looking away to the yard as his mind goes somewhere I can’t anymore. “I just thought…” he finally says. “I just thought the research was everything to you for Cathy.”
It should tug at my heart, give me a stab of guilt, or at least make me feel all that pain mixed with the love I had for her, but for god’s sake, it’s been seventeen years. I think about her every day, but it’s a constant reminder of how fragile life is and how we can’t save everyone and live forever—how I failed the one person I swore I would save. I promised her I would, and I couldn’t in the end. I was a young doctor and a younger man. I thought I could change the world just by having a can-do attitude.
“It’s an incurable disease, Brad,” I remind him. “Research is really just showing how little a chanceanyonehas against it,” I add, returning his clinical air. A ripple runs through my stomach as it hits me how I feel nothing inside when I think of her now. It’s like a dream that became a nightmare, watching what you love be eaten away until there’s only a shell. That’s how Lucy’s mom, Cathy, was when she died.
I tried to keep her alive, even long after she passed, with the research and the belief that we’d find a cure or treatment, but I’ve said all my goodbyes and hurt all that I can. I made my peace with Cathy’s death a long time ago. Lucy was just a baby when it happened, so it’s not as if she even has a memory of her mom. Is a man supposed to live his whole life in torment long after the pain’s healed? I don’t think so. I know Cathy wouldn’t want me wasting whatever time I have left by living like a monk walking on eggshells for the rest of my days.
