42. Bohdi

Chapter forty-two

Bohdi

T oday weighed on me in ways I can't fully express. The funeral, the raw grief etched across Brayden's face, shattered me. I gripped the chair, desperate to cross the distance and offer comfort. When he addressed Bexley, it felt like a thousand knives piercing my heart. His pain consumed us all, isolating them both in their shared loss. I felt every stab.

But it also resurrected memories of Jace, the ache, the unanswerable questions. Why did it happen to someone so pure, someone undeserving? Kal and Tray held Brayden, supporting him, and I wished it were me.

When Denny stepped forward, I was desperate to follow, but the questions buzzed around us like gnats. "Why's Mr. Stiles, the marketing teacher, here?" they whispered. I claimed my presence was for my student, but Denny's gaze sliced through my facade. He nodded, eyes squinting, and settled a few seats away. It felt as if his stare bore into me, yet every time I glanced his way, he wasn't watching. My subconscious played tricks on me.

Glancing at the time in my truck, it's been over an hour since Bray was dropped off. I said to him he could take his time, but I'm worried he's not doing well and he's there on his own. I tap away on the steering wheel, debating what to do. I can't sit here wondering if he's OK. I need to hold him and tell him I've got him, no matter what. What was I thinking about leaving him on his own after everything that happened today?

Turning the engine on, I head toward the trailer park down the road. Pulling up, everything seems quiet, but once I pull up outside Brayden's mom's trailer, Daxton comes rushing out, fear drowning his face.

"Sir, sir!" His hands wave me down as his eyes go wide.

"Where is he?" I run toward the trailer door.

"He's not here." Daxton's gasps come out choppy. "He ran out of the park. He was in a bad way." Worry etches his face as his brows pinch together. He gulps. "He was as bad as the day I found him. I tried speaking with him, but he stumbled away. He was a mess, sir. I didn't know what to do. I don't have anyone's number an—"

"What way did he go, Daxton? What fucking way." I shake him.

"That way." His lip trembles, but I can't think about that right now. I jump in the truck and drive.

I've been driving around for three hours, my mind racing. I reached out to Tray on Instagram, who informed Kal. We've searched tirelessly, but there's no sign of him. My fingers clutch my hair, desperate. Where the hell could he be? In his state, he could be anywhere. Kal and Tray searched all the bars around campus. But he's vanished. My phone rings and I pick it up instantly without even looking at who it is.

My voice trembles as I break through the chaos, shouting Brayden's name without even looking at the screen when answering.

Kal's urgent words pierce the air. "Bohdi, he's at Beaumont General. Me and Tray are on our way now." The phone clicks off before I can ask more questions. I slam my foot down, defying every speed limit, racing to the hospital. Fifteen minutes later, I stride through the main reception.

"Brayden Anders!" I practically yell at the receptionist. Jace's memories flood back—the hospital, the uncertainty. I clutch the counter's edge.

"Sir, are you OK?" A woman steadies me, concern etching her features. This won't be like last time. Brayden will be fine.

"Brayden." I gasp for air. "Anders."

"He's upstairs, sir. Follow me." I release the countertop, trailing behind her. The room spins, my heart galloping. Deep breaths.

"Sir, he'll be OK," the lady reassures me.

"He'll be OK," I repeat, desperate.

She nods. "He has alcohol poisoning. He's had his stomach pumped. He's in recovery now." She points to a chair. "Wait here. Someone will be out to speak to you soon."

Kal and Tray appear, their eyes pleading.

"I haven't heard much, but I've been assured he will be OK. He's had his stomach pumped." I grimace. "I knew I shouldn't have left him on his own."

"Do you know any more of what happened?"

I shake my head. "No." He was obviously broken after the funeral, but he was clear he wanted to go and have a moment on his own. "I don't know what happened in that hour. How did you know he was here?" I question Kal.

"He must have my dad listed as next of kin, since the hospital called him." I nod.

"Where's your dad now?"

"On his way." Kal rubs the back of his neck. Before I can say more, a man interrupts.

"Mr. Anders," the man calls, and we all turn to look at him. I spring into action.

They think I'm his dad. Great. Yep, that's me." I raise my hand, walking over to him.

"I can let you in to see Brayden. Only one person at a time. He's exhausted and had a traumatic night," the doctor says, addressing Kal and Tray. I turn back to them.

"Please," I beg quietly, and Tray nods, as does Kal.

"Let him know we're here," Kal instructs, as I walk away. Following the doctor, he stops just before we enter the room.

"He's groggy but emotional. Kept screaming for his diary, which was recovered by whoever found him. It's in the bed with him, but he's fixated on a UV pen we can't locate. You might know what he means."

The diaries.

"Thanks, Doc." I step aside, entering the room. Brayden lies in the bed, wires connecting to his chest and wrist. "Fuck." I crumble, approaching him. His eyes lock on mine, tears streaming.

"I'm sorry. So fucking sorry," he chokes, attempting to sit up.

"It's OK," I reassure him, my hands cupping his face as I press kisses to his forehead. Thanking whatever higher power exists that he's alive.

"It was an accident, Boh," he sobs, and I hold him close to my chest. "Bex didn't kill himself." I frown down at him. He must be confused.

"Bray, I think you're tired."

"No, it's in here." He leans to the side, picking up the diary. "He was going away to get better. It was an accident." His bottom lip trembles again as more tears leak down his face. "He didn't mean to leave me, and I don't know why, but that hurts more." I pull the chair closer to the bed, taking his hand in mine.

"How could he ever leave you, Bray? You were the best brother anyone could have asked for, there's no way Bex would have left you." I smile. "I know it hurts. Believe me, I know. But I can't have you doing this bray. I can't have you self-destructing. You mean too much to me."

"Bohdi." His head rises, his eyes rim with new shed tears.

"I'm too broken. Please, just let me go." A tear leaks from his eye as I reach out, brushing it away.

A bittersweet laugh escapes me. "I can't, Brayden. Even if I wanted to, I can't. I'm addicted to all of you. Even the broken pieces." He shakes his head.

"You don't mean that." I stand up, sitting beside him on the bed.

"I mean every fucking word. Don't ever question what I feel for you, because its' fucked up Brayden. My obsession and need to always have you with me scares the shit out of me. The way I'm a broken mess when you're not around and then when you are, it's as if all my pain floats away and I'm left with you. You're not my light in the darkness, Bray. You're my company in the darkness. You're my comfort. Nothing comforts me more than holding you among the chaos."

"We're a mixture of broken pieces, Boh, don't you see that?"

"We're picture perfect in a shattered frame, Bray. A beautiful broken fucking mess." I smile at him, leaning forward and capturing his lips in a gentle kiss.

"I love you too," I whisper. He gasps, sucking in a sharp breath as I capture his lips again and pull back. "So, fucking much."

"Boh." His pained eyes flicker between mine.

"I've been at your door for longer than you think, Bray. I'm knocking. I need you to let me in." He nods, a small smile appearing on his lips. "I promise you, Bray. Fall for me and you won't ever have to fall again." Tears leak from his eyes.

"How are you real?" he croaks, and I lean forward, kissing each tear that leaks.

"I'm real because of you."

"You love me?" His eyes flicker between mine, brighter than they were a minute ago.

"So much," I whisper, my lips touching his again.

This time, Brayden opens up for me, my tongue dancing with his, slowly, as I put everything into this kiss. The love I have for him, the shared pain we have. Everything that has led me to this point. To loving Brayden Quake Anders. Brayden moans as his head tilts to the side and in that moment, I get lost in him, my dick hardens with every swipe of his tongue. But then the machine starts beeping and as I jump back, just before the door opens, a nurse walks in frowning at Brayden's incredibly increased heart rate.

You're in a fucking hospital, Bohdi, where they think he is your son. What the fuck are you doing?

"Are you OK?" The nurse's voice cuts through the room, addressing Brayden's swollen lip and drowsy appearance.

"Uh-huh." He nods as she approaches the machine, monitoring his now slowing heart rate. I watch him, wide-eyed, as he smirks at me.

In that moment, I glimpse the playful side of Brayden. If it means just coaxing a small smile from him—even once a month—I'll gladly accept it and carry on risking everything. As long as each smile is because of me, I don't care how infrequent they are. I want him to grieve naturally. No fake happiness around me. Let him scream when anger consumes him over Bex's loss. Allow the tears to flow when the pain becomes unbearable. And yes, let him smile because of me.

Maybe someday, when he thinks of Bexley, it won't hurt as much and he'll smile for the life they shared, even if it was only a fleeting amount of time. Those precious memories deserve to live on. The nurse gives me a sidelong glance as she walks away from the machine. "You've got some impatient boys out there," she informs me. "They practically demanded, in not-so-polite terms, to see their boy. The broody-looking one threw in a few choice swear words." she says before leaving.

"Kal," Brayden and I say simultaneously, sharing a chuckle. "I sort of forgot to mention they were here," I admit. "Don't tell Kal, he hates me already."

"He doesn't hate you—he's just fiercely protective."

"Sure." I smirk, leaning over to kiss Brayden's forehead.

"Yeah, stay away from my lips, please. I lose control around you," he murmurs, adjusting himself discreetly under the covers, which is what I done while the nurse checked the machine.

"Got it." I wink. "I'll let Kal in before he stages a riot out there," I say. "But I'll be back as soon as they've had their one-minute visit."

Brayden shakes his head, smirking. "Oh, Bohdi."

I glance back, raising an eyebrow. "When you return," he says softly, "can you tell me about Jace? I want to know everything—the good and the bad." His smile warms my heart.

For the first time in a while, I'm ready to share memories of Jace, the ones that shaped us both. "I'd love to," I reply, smiling back.