Page 47 of Renegade Rift

I gently give his hand a squeeze and pull it away. “Will you tell me your favorite memory of him? My dad used to say you can tell a lot about a person by the memories they hold dear.”

“There are so many, but the one that stands out most is when he took me to see the glowing sea.”

“The bioluminescent waves during the red tide?”

“Of course, you know what it is,” Ford says with a chuckle. “It was the summer before the accident. There was a scheduled meteor shower at the same time as the red tide. My dad woke me up in the middle of the night and made me promise not to tell my mom. I learned later she knew about the whole thing, but he wanted to make it special for me. We climbed into his old Chevy C-10 and headed for a secluded lookout that he liked to take my mom to when they were dating.”

I’d bet money it was Lover’s Point. I spent many nights there with Tyler when we were dating. But I’m not about to interrupt him and go down that rabbit hole of memories.

“When we got there, my dad backed up as close to the edge as he could and pulled a bunch of pillows and blankets out of the small space behind the seats in the cab. He made us a bed in the back of the truck, and we sat there for hours, talking and watching the glowing blue tide roll in beneath a sea of stars and meteors.”

“That’s an incredible memory.” My thoughts drift to my own parents, and how I still haven’t called them since Ford freed me of the debt that forced me to cut them out to keep them safe.

If they died tomorrow, would I be okay with only the memories I have?

The answer is immediate. No. I’d selfishly want more. But there’s still a part of me that isn’t ready for that phone call. They’ll want to know where I’ve been—which will be hard to relive and talk about—but more than that, they’ll want to know what my plan is moving forward. And I just don’t know yet. I’m still figuring out how to be me without Tyler and all the bullshit he left behind.

The buzzing of Ford’s phone pulls me from my thoughts.

He picks it up from his lap and when he flips it over, his eyes go wide at the sight of the caller.

“Everything okay?” I ask.

He quickly sends the call to voicemail. “Yup, all good.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

I don’t believe him, but I understand more than most that sometimes we keep secrets because it keeps us safe. And tonight, he’s given me so much of himself that I don’t push.

Ford sets his phone face down on the bed and takes a sip of his water. “So, what does my memory tell you about me?”

That you’re nothing like I’ve been told. You’re one of the good ones. And even though I don’t deserve you, I trust you.

Of course, I don’t tell him that.

I couldn’t possibly. That would open the door to more conversations. It would explore the tiny hints of feelings that keep popping up whenever I’m around him. Feelings I shouldn’t be having. Even if they're mostly platonic. Because that’s what they are.

Platonic.

We’re friends.

Family.

There absolutely isn’t a niggling in my heart that feels a whole hell of a lot like high school all over again.

Nope.

So, I do what I do best. Cower, deflect, and run.

“You want to watch a movie?” Picking up my cell, I wave it in front of him. “I don’t have a fancy ninety-inch TV like you, but I can pull up Netflix on my phone.”

Ford studies every contour of my face, letting me know he sees through my bullshit. Surprisingly, he doesn’t call me on it. His lips lift into an easy smile and he shrugs. “Sounds perfect.”

I fluff the pillows behind me, leaning one against his hip so I can lie sideways, and he can hold the phone for us. “Also, don’t be surprised if I fall asleep again. Just eating made me exhausted.”

Not to mention processing everything I’ve just learned and the realizations I’ll no doubt pour over tomorrow.

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