Page 26 of Mess With Me

I set my mug down. It was never something we’d seriously considered. But with everything going on, I think it might just be the time.

“Just food for thought,” Ford says when I don’t respond. “But I’m going to insist now that you take some time away. Creelman’s disappeared for the time being; Macklin’s not making headlines. Our client says the executive meeting where we’re going to get the intel that’ll finally incriminate these assholes isn’t for another couple of weeks.”

I rub my eyes. They feel like I’ve got sandpaper in them.

“Go home, catch up on some sleep. Some…what do you call it, forest bathing?”

My mouth quirks. Not quite a smile, but it’s funny hearing Ford say it. When I was in Japan last year, I learned there was a word for the thing I’ve been doing for years—escaping into the woods. They called it forest bathing—spending time in the trees as a form of therapy. It was even prescribed by doctors to overstressed city dwellers.

“I could do with some trees,” I admit.

Ford smirks. “So you’re saying I’m right.”

I grunt. “Didn’t say that.”

The server comes back with our sandwiches.

Ford picks up half of his, rolling his shoulders as if eating a Reuben is going to be a full-contact sport. “You’ve got to show your face at your other business from time to time, don’t you?” he asks before taking a giant bite.

He’s talking about the Rolling Hills.

“They’ve got it covered. I just need to make an appearance for the occasional board meeting.”

When Mom passed, she added an addendum to her will, saying she wanted all five of her kids to run the Rolling Hills resort together. We all rose to the challenge, though I’ve never taken on an on-site role. I oversaw maintenance for a while, but I now sit on the board to fulfill Mom’s wishes. Only Cass—my oldest sister and CEO of the hotel—and Jude are still there full time.

Fuck, it would feel good to be home, even if it did mean dealing with a bit of resort stuff.

But the thought of leaving Sasha here in the city? I can’t do it.

“Creelman’s not going to give up on her,” I say, tossing down my napkin. “I don’t care if he hasn’t mentioned her to anyone. When he thinks something’s his, he doesn’t give up.”

“I can look out for her for another week, Griff.” His voice is kind. “Besides,” he says gently, “Sasha might not want your round-the-clock surveillance.”

Her words come back to me. How she had all these men trying to control her—myself included.

I trust Ford with my life. He’s saved mine more than once and vice versa. But by the look on his face, I know he sees I’m still not considering leaving.

“What is it about her that has you so riled up, Griff? She’s not your usual type.”

I frown, running a hand over my newly shorn head. Ford’s the only person who knows my history. Knows I’m not a sucker for a pretty face and that I don’t get off on playing rescuer, either.

“I just get the feeling that there’s more to her than people give her credit for. Her family’s fucking AWOL. Jude and Nora—and hell, Cap—I feel like they’re the only people who really care about her. But they’ve got complicated shit going on with their long-distance family situation.”

Ford wipes his mouth with a napkin and tosses it on his cleaned off plate. “You’re not giving up on her by taking care of yourself.”

My eyes snap to his. That’s what she used to say, and he knows it. “Fuck you.”

“She was right, you know. Maybe if—”

“Don’t fucking say it, Ford.”

We’ve been over this before. I don’t make mistakes when I’m tired. I’ve learned how to exist on no sleep, no food, no everything. Ford knows that. But maybe if I’d taken better care of myself on that operation three years ago, Lionel and I wouldn’t be in the position we’re in now, where he still believes what happened on the darkest day of our lives could have been prevented. Where he still blames me for not being able to protect the person most important to us both.

The thing is, sometimes, I don’t think he’s wrong.

In the end, I agree to the week off. What choice do I have? Ford’s right about Sasha—she wouldn’t want me following her around like she’s some kind of inept child. She pretty much told me to fuck off outside the restaurant, even as I felt the gratitude in her arms as she held me at the end.

My insides shift around as I think about that moment again, heat spreading like it does every time I repeat it in my head.

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