CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
BODHI DROVE WITH the music blaring and the window down, anxious for any distraction from the ache eating away at him. But there was no escape from thoughts of Bridgette. She’d already become as vital as the air he breathed. Too edgy to be trapped in the truck, he pulled off at the next exit and found a grassy area to walk Dahlia. He paced the lawn, wondering why he was putting them both through this. He should get his ass back in the car, drive back to Sweetwater, and tell her he was wrong, that he didn’t want to let their love go.
“Come on, Dahlia.” She jumped into the truck.
Bodhi glanced at the photo album and knew he couldn’t drive away. What if it was months before he was called in for a mission? He wanted whatever time he could get with Bridgette and Louie.
Feeling like he’d pushed a five-hundred-pound gorilla off his back, he climbed into the truck and pulled out his phone to call Bridgette. He petted Dahlia again and drew in a deep breath. Maybe they’d get lucky and have several months together before he was called away. Yes, it would be harder to leave months from now, but at least they’d have more time.
As he scrolled to his contacts, his phone rang. Darkbird’s number flashed on the screen, setting that fucking gorilla back in the middle of his chest as he answered the phone.
“Booker.” He closed his eyes as he listened to his orders to report for duty immediately. He half listened, debating calling Bridgette, but every scenario led to the same outcome. The outcome he’d worked so hard to avoid—Bridgette and Louie waiting for him to come home.
AN HOUR LATER, feeling like he’d swallowed a bucket of nails, Bodhi dropped off Dahlia with his mother. He gave her the keys to her house in Sweetwater and caught her up on the completed work. Anything to avoid the obvious. He crouched beside Dahlia, saying goodbye for what could be the last time. It had never been easy, but now, as he gazed into his dog’s eyes, Bridgette’s voice whispered through his mind, making it a hundred times harder. You’re her person. She looks at you like Louie looks at me.
“You be a good girl.” He kissed her on the center of her snout, hugged her one last time, and rose to say goodbye to his mother.
Worry lines mapped Alisha’s forehead. She was wringing her hands, the way she always did when he got called in, but it felt different. This time he didn’t see a proud mother who knew he was doing the right thing. Instead, he saw a mother who had lost her husband and knew she might also lose her son.
“Thanks for taking Dahlia,” he managed. He embraced her, remembering all the times she’d asked him to change careers—and all the times he’d told her he’d do this until the day he died. He hoped to hell this wasn’t that time.
Her body was heavy with sadness. “I hoped that bringing Bridgette and Louie here meant something.”
“It did. It meant everything. But it’s over now, and I’ve got to go.” He grabbed the bag he’d brought up with him and withdrew the photo album.
His mother’s hand covered her heart. “Oh, honey.”
He nodded curtly, needing his armor more than ever as her eyes misted over and she tugged him into another embrace. “You can’t save everyone, honey. At some point you need to accept that. No matter how many people you save, you’ll never bring your father back.”
“I’m not trying to bring him back. I’m just trying to make sure no one else gets left behind. Mom, I’ve really got to leave. I haven’t been home yet, and I need to report for duty.”
She released him, her eyes more troubled than before. “Does Bridgette know you got called in? Or does she think you’re going to be training?”
“Training. It’s better anyway.” He bent to love Dahlia up one more time, then nodded toward the photo album. “Keep it safe. I love you.”
“Bodhi,” she said just above a whisper, tears welling in her eyes. “I’ll keep it safe, but you come back to me. You hear? You’ve already made your father proud. You don’t need to keep—”
He cut her off with a quick hug and reached for the door, unable to listen to one more plea. “I love you.”
When he arrived at his condo, memories of Bridgette and Louie slammed into him. He stalked down the hall with his eyes trained on the floor to keep from glancing into the guest room and remembering Louie tucked in beside Dahlia. In his bedroom he focused on packing, and not on the memories of making love to Bridgette that pummeled him every time he caught sight of the bed. He hated fending the images off when he wanted to revel in them. But now was the time for focus and determination toward his mission. He couldn’t afford to be sidetracked.
After packing, he sat down at the kitchen table and wrote a letter to his mother, and one to Shira, as he’d done before every assignment. He wished he’d received something from his father, in his father’s voice, that he could have turned to in those early days after losing him. But while Bodhi had always been more comfortable with letters than talking about his emotions, his father was the opposite. As warm as his father had been, he was not the type to pour his emotions out in something as tangible as a letter. Funny, Bodhi thought. Until Bridgette, I’d never been the type to verbalize my feelings.
He set aside the letters and pulled another piece of paper from the stack, staring at it for a long while before finally putting into words all the things he’d wanted to say to Bridgette and couldn’t. He sealed it up tight, set the letters in the cabinet above the refrigerator, with the others from missions gone by, and hoped he’d live long enough to write more. Then he called Shira.
“You’re back from your love nest?” she teased.
His gut knotted up. “I was called in.”
“Goddamn,” she said in an angry whisper. “Bodhi, what about blondie and her son?”
“Bridgette and Louie. It’s over.” Momentarily hurt into silence, he sank down to the chair, hands fisted. “We knew we had to end it.”
She was silent for a long moment.
“Shira . . .” He drew in a deep breath. “I’m already fucking torn up. Don’t make me feel worse.”
“I’m sorry. It’s not that. I just . . . I thought she might change your mind. She met your mother, Bodhi. No woman has ever met your mother.”
He ground his teeth together. If he hadn’t gotten the call to report to duty, Bridgette would be in his arms right now, even if only for another few hours, days, weeks. Whatever it was, he’d wanted it. “You know the deal—”
“I know. I get it. And you probably did the right thing, but it sucks. She must be devastated.”
“Yeah. It seems to be going around. I’ve got to go, but please tell me you’ll get the letters.”
“I’ll get the letters. But you better fucking come back.”
“That’s the plan.”