abusive, high on drugs all the time. Think she ran off with some drug lord. Why?”
God.
Bohdi has lied to everyone.
Everyone.
“I need you to take me to him. Now.”
Carson looks concerned, but he does as I ask.
He drives me to Bohdi.
I’m getting my answers, once and for all.
“I NEED TO SEE YOU,” I say, bursting into the shed where all the bikers are sitting around a table, discussing business.
I know I have no right to be in here, rules are rules and Alarick won’t be happy with me interrupting, but I can’t breathe, let alone think.
“What are you doin’ here, Merleigh?” Bohdi asks, his eyes swinging to Carson who is standing beside me.
“You can’t be in here, Merleigh,” Alarick says, his voice gruff. “I don’t know what’s goin’ on, but you know the rules. You can’t be here and you certainly can’t bring a stranger. Askin’ you with a whole heap of respect, but get out.”
I ignore him. “I need to speak with you. Now.”
Bohdi shakes his head, confused.
“Merleigh, not goin’ to ask you again,” Alarick growls this time.
“I’ll leave, Alarick,” I say, my voice high and frantic. “When Bohdi tells me why he killed his own mother.”
The whole room goes dead silent. Carson gasps beside me and then curses. Bohdi stands quickly, his face twisting with rage. He is grabbing me in a second, spinning me around and pulling me from the shed. He roars at Carson not to follow him, and only when we’re in a quiet spot at the back of the lot does he turn on me and demand, “What the fuck did you just say?”
I’m shaking.
Everything inside of me feels like it’s going to explode.
“Did you kill your mother, Bohdi?”
“Who the fuck told you that?”
“Isla.”
He looks confused.
“She came to me today, and she told me everything.”
His jaw ticks.
He doesn’t confirm or deny what I’m saying, and that alone is my answer. That tells me absolutely everything.
He killed his own mother.
His mother.
I feel sick.
Tears roll down my cheeks as I make a hiccupping sound. “I trusted you, Bohdi. Out of all the people in this world, you were the one I trusted and you lied to me. You lied right to my face. You had so many chances to tell me the truth, to let me know who you were and you chose not to. You kept it all hidden and let me believe a version of yourself that wasn’t real. I can’t see you again. Ever.”
“Merleigh,” he says, his voice croaky. “You gotta listen to me, it’s not what you think. It was an accident. I didn’t fuckin’ mean to kill her. She was attacking me and I pushed her off ...”
“So you threw her body into the ocean?” I whisper hiss. “Instead of going to the police and telling them it was self-defense?”
“You think they would have believed me?” he roars, throwing his hands up. “You think they would have listened to a young fuckin’ man who had no hope? They wouldn’t have, and I would have spent the rest of my fucking life in prison. Sorry if I chose to be free, you out of everyone should understand how that fucking feels.”
His words hit me right in the chest, and I shake my head furiously. “You dumped your mother into the ocean. She deserved more than that.”
“Did she?” he growls, glaring at me. “How the fuck do you know what she deserved? You know nothing about my life.”
“Because you never told me!” I scream.
I never scream. I never raise my voice. I never speak louder than a soft whisper. Bohdi jerks and takes a step back. My heart is racing, and I can’t stop it. I can’t stop the pain and anguish spewing from my soul. Things I’ve kept inside for so damned long I forgot what it feels like not to carry them around.
“Look at how you’re handling it, and you wonder why I never told you,” Bohdi says, his voice suddenly scarily calm.
“I’m angry because you lied, because you made me believe you’re something that you’re not. If you had been honest from the start ...”
“We wouldn’t be here,” he finishes for me. “Nobody sticks around, Merleigh. Nobody loves someone as fuckin’ broken as me. You think I’m stupid enough to believe you would have just accepted it and been okay?”
Dammit.
That hurts.
It hurts so bad.
Would I have accepted it? Or would I be acting like I am right now?
I can’t think.
“I can’t be here,” I say, my voice so pained it hurts