A Place Without You by Jewel E. Ann
- Alisha Eadle
- 18 hours ago
- 14 min read
A Place Without You
by Jewel E. Ann
Self-Published
The Law of Henna and Bodhi:
When love breaks, fall inward, fall together, and fall hard. Then let time pick up the pieces.
Everything feels temporary when you’ve experienced tragedy—until Henna Lane meets Bodhi at a music festival.
Young and spontaneous, they have a lust for seizing the moment, falling hard and fast.
When Bodhi is forced to leave without a goodbye, Henna thinks she’ll never get over him. But then she meets Mr. Malone, her sexy, new guidance counselor.
They are reckless.
They are forbidden.
When their secret is discovered, Henna has to choose between finishing school—banned from seeing Mr. Malone—or dropping out to follow her nomad dreams.
Henna chooses her dreams.
Over time, she learns that life is not a destination or a journey, some things are more than temporary, and the forbidden can never be ignored. But if she returns for him, will he still be hers?
A Place Without You is an emotional story of young love, shattered dreams, and impossible decisions.
Genre
Triggers
Pain/Trauma from Car Accident, Trauma from accident that left loved one in a wheelchair, cancer, marijuana use, counselor/student relationship (begun before either of them knew), assisted suicide
Jewel E. Ann can do no wrong.
I LOVED this book.
There was SO much packed in this book.
A relationship that feels like it was meant to be, without outright saying it.
One that turns into longing, and forbidden love.
If it isn't the romance that hooks you, it's both Bodhi's and Henna's journeys throughout the book.
Henna, who deals with chronic pain and scars from a car accident that killed her best friend. Her arc was kind of beautiful. She starts out kind of lost. Doing what she has been told she needs to do. Her coming to terms that maybe she doesn't have to live her life the way everyone else has was superb. Following her dreams of travelling the world, learning through experiencing other cultures and meeting new people was something I adored about her. In a way, it prepared her for what was to come with Bodhi.
Bodhi's story was just was fulfilling. While his pain wasn't the same as Henna's, it doesn't make it less. Guilt will eat away at a person, and it was eating away at Bodhi. The guilt that resulted from a single moment in his past, changed him. He stopped dreaming. Not because of what he felt was his responsibilities, but because he didn't think he deserved them.
Or anything.
Which brings me back to the romance.
What Jewel E. Ann wrote here, was a love story that took a long time to come to fruition, but would have never came to be unless these two dealt with their personal issues. Lived out their dreams.
Which is the most beautiful part of this story, in my opinion.
Love is wonderful.
But love isn't the only thing that can hold two people together.
And while I loved the romance between Bodhi and Henna, I appreciated that Jewel E. Ann made sure to give her characters a chance to grow and learn before they finally settled.
If you love emotional romances, with deeply layered characters, and a beautiful story, you will love A Place Without You.
Actually, you will love ALL of Jewel E. Ann's books.
Bodhi: “What are you listening to?”
he asks in a voice as smooth as his Mediterranean eyes.
Henna: “That’s kind of a personal question. Like asking my underwear color.”
He grins. It’s all kinds of wicked.
Bodhi: “Personal?”
He shrugs.
Bodhi: “I don’t know about that. Depends on the song … and the color.”
Henna: “Amy Shark, ‘Adore.’ And red and silver polka dots.”
Bodhi: “Mmm …”
He nods slowly.
Bodhi: “Good choice.”
Henna: “The song?”
I bite the corner of my lower lip to control my grin.
Bodhi: “The underwear.”
Bodhi: “Bodhi.”
He grins.
Bodhi: “My name is Bodhi.”
Henna: “Bodie? Like the ghost town in California?”
Bodhi: “Bodhi like the sacred fig tree.”
Henna: “Shut. Up.”
My eyes pop out of my head.
Henna: “For real? Your name is Bodhi. B.O.D.H.I?”
He grins, but I can’t tell if it’s a duh-that’s-just-what-I-said grin or a you’re-so-gullible grin.
Henna: “Henna and Bodhi. It’s so fucking poetic. Now comes the part where I inform you that we will marry some day and live in a small house nestled into the cliffside of Italy, overlooking the Amalfi coast, where we’ll have terraced groves of lemon trees, olive trees … and tomatoes. I love tomatoes.”
Bodhi’s brows inch up his forehead.
Henna: “And before you say no and get all weird on me, I’m not suggesting we do this right away. I have some serious traveling to do before settling into one location with a hot guy.”
A long two-second delay later, I realize what I’ve just said. Amusement grows along his mouth like the sun sliding up the horizon in the early morning, giving me the brightest smile. I slip on my sunglasses. Bodhi and the desert sun are a bit too intense, even for me.
Bodhi: “Henna, are you flirting with me?”
A group of girls gather around us and snap a few photos of me before blending back into the sea of humans funneling toward the entrance. Bodhi gives them a narrow-eyed look and shifts his gaze to me for an explanation. I ignore the girls and his curiosity.
Henna: “Yes, Bodhi, I’m shamelessly, unapologetically, working-my-ass-off flirting with you. The universe has spoken. We can’t ignore the universe.”
It’s oddly the most romantic thing a guy has ever done for me. The final french fry trumps a single red rose. At least, that’s how my mind works.
Henna: “Thank you.”
I take the fry.
Henna: “Singer?”
Bodhi: “Drummer.”
Drummer… I press my hand to my bag over the exact spot where I have a condom.
Henna: “Well…”
I lick the salt from my fingers
Henna: “…what a coincidence. I happen to have a thing for drummers.”
Bodhi: “Are you still flirting with me?”
Henna: “Always. Even when our kids think it’s gross and we’re too old to flirt, I’m going to tease you with my sexiness.”
Bodhi: “Cute.”
He tosses the french fry container in the garbage just behind him before turning back to me.
Henna: “You think I’m cute? See, Bodhi, you have flirting skills too.”
Henna: “Bodhi?”
Bodhi: “Yeah?”
He pauses before closing my door, and a shy smile instantly steals his lips. Bodhi. Fate is killing it today.
Henna: “I have a dozen condoms stashed in my purse and backpack, but it’s too late. I think I’m already pregnant. Nothing could feel as good as sitting in this beautiful van.”
A tiny blush crawls up Bodhi’s face.
Bodhi: “Lucky van.”
I look at my watch again.
Henna: “Bodhi, Bodhi, Bodhi … my really far into the future husband and baby daddy … stop looking at your watch.”
Grabbing my wrist, she takes off my watch and tosses it into her bag too. I lift an eyebrow.
Bodhi: “You’re trouble.”
Do I want trouble tonight? Do I want to go down this rabbit hole? Giving her the once-over while she does the same to me, the answer is clear. Interlacing our fingers, she pulls me toward the van.
Henna: “Oh, you have no idea.”
Bodhi: “Us …”
I say the word like I need to test it out.
Bodhi: “Bodhi and Henna.”
She unties her shoes and slips them off, tucking her feet under her.
Henna: “And Alice.”
Bodhi: “Who’s Alice?”
Henna: “Duh. Our blue baby with big round eyes and an awkward but adorable little VW emblem nose. Unless…”
she digs her teeth into her lower lip
Henna: “…you already named her. Didn’t you? That’s cool. Alice could be a middle name.”
I stare at her mouth, desperate to taste it. If this is a dream, I’m going to fight to never wake up. The longer I stare, the more she squirms. Henna grabs another California roll and shoves it into her mouth. My gaze shifts to her brilliant blue eyes. She knows I was staring a bit too long at her tempting lips. I grin.
Bodhi: “I didn’t name her.”
Henna: “Aw … see?”
Henna mumbles over a mouthful of food.
Henna: “You were waiting for me.”
Time is a weak force compared to other earthly phenomena like magnetism. Attraction doesn’t give a shit about time. It wants what it wants.
Henna: “Can I …”
Tears burn my eyes. I found him. Two days is not enough. Everything is temporary, but Bodhi can’t be two days of my life. No … that’s not okay.
Bodhi: “I’m sorry.”
So much pain bleeds from his voice.
Bodhi: “We were perfect. Bodhi and Henna … I want every memory to be perfect. Let’s let it end this way. It was so fucking perfect, and …”
Don’t be sorry. I wipe the tears from my eyes.
Henna: “And temporary.”
Bodhi: “Only our time together. But you, Henna Eve Lane, the mark you made is permanent.”
Henna: “You’ll forget about me. Henna fades.”
Bodhi: “Never …”
he whispers.
Henna: “Automotive class. Yeah, thanks for that, Mr. Malone. I wasn’t too happy when I got my new schedule, but after some careful thought, I realized you must have fantasies of me covered in grease working on Alice. It’s cool. I’m on board. I’m also the only girl in the class, and that seems to please a lot of guys.”
Henna: “I miss us. I know it’s stupid because it was two days.”
I lower my voice, staring at his chest over my sketch pad because I don’t want to see pity in his eyes.
Henna: “It was just…”
I try to focus on my thoughts that want to fade into other random thoughts
Henna: “…something really powerful I felt. You probably think I’m young and impulsive. You probably think it was a crush. I’m sure you have a million girls with crushes on you, but it didn’t feel like a crush. It felt …”
Bodhi: “It felt what?”
he whispers with the vulnerability of the Bodhi that held me in his arms on the sofa at Lauren’s house. I let my gaze inch up to his.
Henna: “Vital. Like that feeling would own a piece of me forever. Like that feeling would never go away. Never fade. Like my existence suddenly depended on having that feeling, like a pulse—a breath.”
Bodhi: “Warren is a nice guy. Good call.”
Henna: “You’ve known him for like three or four weeks. How can you say he’s a nice guy?”
Bodhi shrugs, returning his attention to the computer screen.
Bodhi: “Good grades. Nice parents. Nothing on his record shows that he’s had issues in school. And he’s your school’s best running back. I’ve heard rumors that he could get a full-ride scholarship to play for UCLA.”
Henna: “Yay, Warren.”
I give Bodhi a toothy grin when he makes a quick glance up at me.
Henna: “Let’s back up. What does my record say? Would you tell Warren I’m a good call?”
Bodhi: “No way. I’d tell the poor guy to use his running skills and never look back.”
Henna: “You’re an ass, Mr. Malone.”
Henna: “We don’t have to do anything but simply be.”
I glance up.
Henna: “Can you give me that? Can you just be with me?”
Bodhi: “No matter where I am on this earth, I’m loving you … forever.”
Mom: "Timing guides our lives more than love. Love is just an emotion—timing is our destiny. Missed opportunities. Serendipity. Fate … it’s all about timing, not love.”
Bodhi: "What do you want me to do? Tattoo your name on my forehead and fuck you on the lunchroom table?”
Henna: “No.”
My lips twist.
Henna: “We’re not even allowed to sit on the lunchroom tables. And I don’t know what the weight threshold is for them.”
Bodhi: “You’ve driven a car before, haven’t you?”
Henna: “Driven. Borrowed. Stolen.”
Bodhi: “Henna Eve …”
Henna: “Bodhi Kaden …”
I mock him.
Henna: “Before you go all guidance counselor on me, the stolen car was not technically stolen; it was borrowed. But the owner and I disagreed on that little detail, so it got reported as stolen, and I did a little community service and wrote a long letter of apology. No biggie.”
Bodhi: “What have I gotten myself into?”
he mumbles.
Bodhi: “You have to take this and throw it in the trash at home. Not in my office. Not in the restroom. Not on school property. Don’t forget and leave it in your purse. Don’t slip it in your pocket. And for the love of God, don’t use it as a bookmark. Okay?”
I take the ripped condom and wrapper, squinting at him while I slip it into my bag.
Henna: “You read a lot of fiction. I, too, heard rumors about a condom shoved into Moby Dick, but that’s a bit too amateurish for me.”
Henna: “You want me to leave?”
I swallow hard.
Mom: “I want you to live.”
Henna: “I hate you,”
I manage to get those three vitally important words out. He nods.
Bodhi: “I know you do.”
Easing off my gloves, I let them and my poles drop to the ground. My cold hands press to his warm cheeks, guiding him close to me, so we share the same breath.
Henna: “But I love you more.”
His eyes search mine, and when he seems to find what he’s looking for, he smiles.
Bodhi: “I know you do.”
The Law of Henna and Bodhi: When love breaks, fall inward, fall together, and fall hard. Then let time pick up the pieces.
Henna: “Stop assuming you know what I deserve or what I want! I want YOU! Don’t you get that?”
Henna: “I opened a hundred gifts today, but none of them were you. I was looking for you.”
Bodhi: “Me?”
He grins.
Henna: “You.”
I kiss him.
I grip his jacket and press my lips to his like he did our last night together—unmoving. Time … please just stop. Just give me this moment with him forever.
Henna: “You make me want to stay,”
I whisper past the lump in my throat. Bodhi kisses every inch of my face before letting his lips find the center of my forehead.
Bodhi: “You make me want to go,”
he whispers in return.
Henna: “Henna and Bodhi,”
I say on a painful sigh. He hugs me to his chest, resting his hand on my head, holding me like I’m his world.
Bodhi: “Bodhi and Henna,”
he softly echoes me.
Henna: “Funny …”
I shake my head.
Henna: “Because after two years, a million new faces, and countless cities … every place was simply a place without you. So it doesn’t matter that everyone wanted that for me. I only wanted you.”
So this is what it feels like to understand that the world is not a place or a destination. It’s a moment. When we touch, it’s the world. It’s life.
Henna: “I missed you beyond words,”
I whisper. His eyes open, looking a few shades darker blue beneath the curtain of my hair around us.
Bodhi: “You hated me.”
Henna: “Yes.”
I drop soft kisses all over his face.
Henna: “But I loved you more.”
Henna: “Your name has been all over my body. The summer after we met, I painted you everywhere. I may have been a little obsessed. And I’ve sketched you.”
She teases her fingers down my abs, biting her lip.
Henna: “And painted you … and fingered myself thinking of you.”
Aaannnd … french fry time is over. I snatch the plate from her and slide it onto the nightstand.
Henna: “I wasn’t done.”
I grab her face, bringing it a breath from mine.
Bodhi: “You are now.”
Bodhi: “Love is not a rational emotion. It jumps out of planes and dives off cliffs. It leaves a permanent mark on everything it touches. I can do the right thing or I can love you, but I can’t do both.”
Henna: “Please don’t be dead.”
I check his wrist. I don’t feel anything. But I’m not sure where I should feel something, so I press two fingers to his neck, moving them up, down, and side to side. Nothing?
Henna: “Oh my God …”
I step back with one hand over my mouth and my other hand over my chest.
Henna: “When did you die?”
I whisper. One of his eyes pops open, followed by the other.
Henna: “Oh my God! You’re not dead.”
I drop to my knees and rest my forehead on the arm of his chair, grabbing his hand and squeezing it tightly.
Barrett: “Not today, young lady. But Christ … I hope the mortician does a better job of checking my pulse than you did. I don’t relish the idea of being burned or buried alive.”
Vulnerability takes more strength than anything else in life. You have to be willing to feel absolutely every emotion. Vulnerability is the sharpest knife, the longest marathon, the highest mountain.
Barrett: “I’d do it again. Knowing the outcome … I’d do it again. I’d buy you the drums. I’d tell you to play your music. I’d get in my car and drive to that house. I’d climb those same stairs, wrap my arm around you, and try to carry you down the marble stairs. You’re my boy, Bodhi. I might not be able to always catch you when you fall, but it won’t ever stop me from trying. And maybe you’re looking for my forgiveness, but I’ve told you a million times, there’s nothing to forgive. There is no debt to pay.”
Bodhi: “D-dad …”
Sobs rack my body. He strokes my hair like I did to Henna’s hair.
Barrett: “I just fear you’ve lost your will to jump. And maybe it’s because you don’t think I can catch you now. And maybe I can’t. But don’t you ever stop chasing your dreams. Chase them all the way off a cliff. But for God’s sake … don’t be afraid to jump.”
Leaning forward, I rest my hand on Barrett’s hand.
Henna: “I’m going to miss you. Our conversations. Getting high just to give the middle finger to our lows.”
Barrett: “Thank you. I’ve enjoyed our time together as well. So very much.”
He rests his other hand on mine.
Barrett: “I won’t ask you to bury my body in the back of the house, but in the end table drawer I have my stash. While others are grieving, I want you to smoke, laugh, kick back on the porch, and know that I’m one of the brightest stars in the sky winking at you each night.”
Henna: “A star winking at me.”
I grin.
Henna: “I like that.”
Henna: “If you’re going to stare at me this much, I might have to charge admission into my bedroom.”
I grin, lifting my gaze to meet his smirk.
Bodhi: “I’d pay full price.”
Henna: “Same world. Bigger house. More is just more. It’s not better. It’s not anything to envy, unless you’re comparing a single-serving bag of chips to a large bag of chips. Then more is obviously better.”
Your first word was Dada.
Your first steps were to me.
You ran to me every time I walked through the door after a long day.
You tiptoed into our bedroom at night and nestled into my chest.
I don’t know what I did to deserve your love.
Mom cared for you all day. Fed you. Changed your diapers. And kissed your boo-boos. She wiped your tears and made bringing you joy her full-time job.
Still … you were my boy.
Thank you for staying. I know you didn’t do it out of guilt. You did it because you are and always will be my boy.
Thank you for taking my pain and making it your own.
Thank you for being my friend.
I’m sorry it took me so long to realize that it was unfair to ask you to help me die.
You are my boy, the whisper of my name, and the hand always holding mine.
You are an undeniable, physical, eternal part of me.
But … the pain was real and the end was imminent.
It was just time to go, even if the goodbye felt impossibly unbearable.
Henna: “I want him to want me. Like the epic kind of love where he comes for me. The kind where he doesn’t take no for an answer. The kind that involves begging and groveling. I want him to chase me. Need me. I want him to hold me in his arms the way I’ve held him in my heart.”
The world is a big place. You could get lost, forgetting where you came from, not caring where you go. Not me. My travels have taught me only one thing … every place I’ve been has simply been a place without you.
The world is big, but our time here is small and precious. Life is meant to be lived, not solved. And love … well, it’s like a white T-shirt with french fries and ketchup. It’s messy, but worth the risk.
Zoya: “Dad, I was so nervous.”
He kisses Zoya’s cheek and sets her back on her feet.
Bodhi: “That’s how you know you’re living. If your heart’s not racing, if your teeth aren’t chattering, then you’re not doing it right.”
I tip my chin up. He looks down at me. We share a few moments of silence where so many things are said without saying anything at all. He grins. I grin.
Henna: “Hi. Remember me?”
Bodhi rubs his lips together and nods slowly.
Bodhi: “I’m pretty sure you’re still my greatest memory.”
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