Page 85 of Now to Forever

A man in a white coat with a stethoscope around his neck glances my way then looks back to Ford who’s sitting at the foot ofthe hospital bed, shirtless. My eyes roam all over him—looking for blood and bandages—but there’s only a bruise on his ribs below his left pec.

Again: relief.

“You know the drill, Officer. Vest took the brunt of it, but you’ll be sore. Take it easy. Call us if you need anything.”

“Thanks, Doc.”

The doctor closes out an image of an X-ray on a computer screen, tucks a file under his arm, and gives me a tight-lipped smile as he leaves, closing the door behind him with a softclick.

I look at Ford again, shot but okay; the contents of the folder feel like an irrelevant meteor in a distant galaxy.

I step between his knees, gently tracing the perimeter of the bruise. “You get shot on purpose to make me forgive you?”

A slight smirk tugs at his lips and he lifts a hand to my face, grazing his knuckles against my jaw. “Did it work?”

“Depends.” I laugh softly, swirling circles around the mark with my fingertip. “You get the bad guy?”

“We did.” His fingers wrap around my wrist and bring my hand to his mouth, kissing my thumb. In a soft voice: “Hi.”

“Hi,” I echo, voice cracking slightly as I meet his eyes.

“I should have told you about Glory.” The bed shifts under his weight. “I know it’s complicated between you two. I helped her with a down payment on the car and set her up with the job so she could afford it. She told me you buy her groceries . . . I was just trying to help. Fill in for Zeb in some way.”

His hand moves back to my cheek, and I lean into his palm. A smile tugs at my lips. “So, we’re, like, siblings now? Kinky.”

The pad of his thumb rubs my cheek as he chuckles. “Not even close.” He kisses my forehead. “I didn’t mean to lie. I don’t want to. It all hurts. Saying the hard parts out loud makes them real—I just wanted it to not be. Just for a little while.”

These words could be a slogan for my life.

“I don’t know if you know this about me, Ford, but staying quiet about the hard stuff is my specialty.”

He plants a soft kiss on my mouth. “You?” He chuckles. “Never.”

“I get why you left now.” His eyes search mine. “I wish I would have known. I wish . . .” I swallow every confession I’m not ready to make. “Things happened after you left, Ford. Big things that I don’t know how to explain. Yet.”

He nods, tucks a strand of hair behind my ear then rubs his palms down my arms. “Okay.”

“When you left”—I sniff—“it was like you vanished.” He opens his mouth; I shake my head. “But I didn’t call either. And I should have. I should have hunted you down and caused a scene like we all know I’m capable of.”

“Life happens the way it’s supposed to, you know?” he says, our fingers gentle on one another. Down arms, across noses, through hair. We touch each other like we’re freshly glued pieces of broken glass on the cusp of a reshatter.

I stare at the blooming bruise. Ford could have died today—he could have been taken from me before we ever got the secondshot at whatever this is. I never would have survived it; I would have hated myself for the rest of my life for pushing him away. For running away. For the last words between us being him telling me he loves me and me slapping him across the face.

“I don’t know if I can be what you want,” I tell him. “Don’t know how to be good enough for you. For Wren. How to dilute myself to be a more palatable flavor.”

His smile is so gentle it nearly hijacks the tears right out of my eyes.

“You’re my favorite flavor—always have been, always will be.” He wraps his hands around my hips and squeezes gently as a smirk plays at his lips. “Even if it burns going down.”

I snort a laugh; he dusts a kiss on my lips.

“And you’re good for Wren. Great for her.”

I want so badly to believe that’s true. To be what he thinks I am.

“I’m yours.” The words pop out of my mouth like a spring in a too-small box. They’re all I thought of the whole drive over. If he would have died—he’d never have known. If he would have died—the regret of that alone would have ended me. “Whatever you need to call that.” I swallow around the fist-sized lump in my throat. “I always have been. Me thinking you were dead made me realize I should probably tell you.” Then, “Because I’ve clearly ruined you for other women.”

His lips twitch; he drops his forehead to mine.

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