Page 29 of What I Should Have Felt

“What about Azelie, and why specifically her?” he asked with a furrowed brow.

“Better question, how do you know who Azelie is? She was born after you’d left.”

“One, it’s a small town, and everyone talks. Two, I’ve seen her at the restaurant, and while I’ve not been able to get a close look, it’s rather obvious who she is. I mean, your parents literally said copy and paste with those genetics. She looks pretty much exactly like you did at that age. There’s a few things different, but yeah.” Ford leaned his head back. “Anyway, rumors about your attack have been quiet and few, which I assume is O’Connor’s doing. So, tell me everything that happened.”

“Why? What the hell difference would it make?” I sliced a glare at him.

“Colette, don’t.” His voice was razor sharp and harsh, so sudden and a stark contrast to how he’d spoken to me a moment ago. It was as if a knife had slashed right through my stomach.

My eyes widened at his words. He’d never spoken to me that way before. Ever. I’d never heard him speak like that to anyone, not even the assholes that bullied him a bit in middle school before he’d grown.

“Just, tell me what the fuck happened, and don’t leave anything out. The only way we’re going to get rid of this guy is by figuring out his end game before he gets to it. And I need to know—”

“So, this isn’t you being concerned for me? This is all about finishing what you came here for so you can just up and—”

“This is about you!” He threw his hands in the air. “Everything has always fucking been about you, but you’ve acted like an asshole toward me since the moment I stepped foot back here. I left foryou. I stayed away foryou.” His gaze swung toward me with more rage and excruciating anguish than I’d ever seen in my life. He slapped a hand against his chest.

“I left my family foryou. I gave up everything soyoudidn’t have to. So, stop pretending like we’re still eighteen. I get that I gave up any chance of coming back to you because of how I left, and that’s my fault. I get you moved on. I get I shouldn’t have left like I had, but I did. And nothing can change that.”

Ford inhaled deeply and shook his head, lowering his voice. “But everything I’ve done and still do is for you. So, please.” He gently laid his hands in his lap as they began to shake, and his words became almost a whimper. “Please, stop hating me. At least for the time being, so you and your family can become safe again. And then I’ll leave. Just like I know—” His voicecracked, and he cleared his throat. “Just like I know you want, because all I want to do is protect you.”

I stared at him. Disbelief coursed through me, not because he was wrong, but because he was mostly right. He’d never been this raw and vulnerable with me before.Mostly. I didn’t want him to leave. Not again. Not ever. But with the way I’d been treating him, acting so immature and selfish, I could understand why he believed that.

But my secret wouldn’t remain one if I let this anger go. I’d confess to what would potentially make him hate me as much as he thought I hated him. All of this rage, all of this front I put on was to keep that secret. To keep the one person safe that I’d been left to fight for on my own.

My shoulders sagged as I realized that my own choice had partially created that burden. A choice that I’d thought was right at the time. Just like Ford thought, leaving was the right choice at that time.

I wasn’t as innocent in all of this as I pretended to be.

“I don’t hate you,” I whispered.

Ford pulled a thin smile on his lips. “It’s okay. I would hate me too if I was in your shoes.”

“But I don’t. I’m just…”

“Angry?” He glanced at me. “Hurt?”

“I felt betrayed. And like I’d had my choice ripped away from me. So, yes. I’m angry. And hurt. But mostly angry at myself because I’m not angry at you like I was literally five seconds before you showed up.”

I faced the gray headrest in front of me, ignoring the sun bouncing off the shiny silver metal accents. There it was. Admittance to thoughts I’d barely accepted before walking into the restaurant this morning.

I whipped my gaze back toward him and wagged a finger. “This doesn’t mean I forgive you. Just that I won’t be so…”

“Hostile toward me?” He shot me a crooked grin.

“Again with that word,” I grumbled.

He chuckled and returned to his lazy gaze out the window. “Please, Cher. Tell me what happened.”

“It won’t change anything.”

“No. But I just… There were fifteen guys, and I feel like I’m going crazy with—”

“You saw something!” I interjected and sat up straight.

His jaw twitched as if he was chewing on what to say next but remained quiet.

“Something that if you were to say it out loud, someone would tell you that you needed to be in a psych ward.”

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