Page 71 of Every Little Kiss
CHAPTER 14
Liv’s bones turned to mush. “What?”
“Not that, cupcake,” Ford said on a groan. “Although,thatI want more than you could possibly know. But Paxton is home, and I’m not feeling gentle tonight.”
He sure felt gentle, the tender way he cupped her hip, pulling her closer until she was dizzy with his scent. Yet it wasn’t the desire lacing his eyes that had her taking his hand and leading him to his deck. Although there was enough heat to melt her panties, there was something much more than chemistry humming between them. Something raw and vulnerable.
Something desperate.
“Whatever you need,” she said quietly as they walked up the steps.
Ford stood at the deck’s edge. “Clark White was brought into Mercy General today. He was unconscious, suffering from a punctured lung, and probably has some internal bleeding.”
Liv linked their fingers. “Is he a friend of yours?”
“No,” Ford said, looking out at the lake. Wetsuit clinging to his hips, water still dripping from his body, the blue light of the moon casting shadows on his face. He looked invincible and fragile at the same time. “He and his sons were rescued from Canyon Ridge this afternoon.”
Liv had been working the ER when the father was airlifted in. She remembered hearing about a father-son team that had kept Dr.Bristol, one of the best trauma surgeons in the area, in the OR for most of the afternoon. “Were you on the team?”
“I helped lift Clark out.” His tone said it was just another day at the office, but the hard lines bracketing his mouth told a different story. “On your next shift, can you just check in on him and see how he’s doing?” Ford faced her. “I’m not asking you to do anything that could get you in trouble, so no details needed. Just let me know if he made it.”
Her heart pinched over this big, capable man’s struggle with the need for answers and the need to protect.
“And if he didn’t?”
The pain that filled his eyes winded her. Ford had said it was the not knowing that stuck with him, but Liv wondered if it went deeper than that. Wondered what he’d lived through, experienced, that made reaching out so difficult.
Wanting to explore and heal all of his scars, but knowing that there might only be the time for them to explore this one, Liv pulled her phone from her shorts pocket and dialed the hospital.
“You don’t have to do that,” Ford said, reaching for her phone.
“I know.” She cupped his cheek. “I want to. Let me do this for you.” When he still didn’t let go of her phone, she explained, “It’s just a call, Ford.”
He studied her for a long moment, and then with a nod, he disappeared into the house. Liv waited until she saw the kitchen light flicker on and then hit “Send.”
It took less than five minutes to get the information she needed, and then she thanked the attending nurse and hung up.
Letting herself in through the back door, Liv found the kitchen. It was painted a warm yellow with antique cooking utensils framed on the walls and a long table in the middle. Complete with six place mats, diner salt-and-pepper shakers, and a pot filled with lavender-and-green peonies, the kitchen was family ready and made to be lived in.
Only Ford stood at the sink window, chest still bare, hair still wet. Gone was the wetsuit, and in its place was a pair of soft-looking button-flies and bare feet. His dinner was spread out on the counter, which, based on how untouched everything appeared, was where he’d eaten his meals since moving in.
He didn’t move, just braced himself against the counter with his palms and stared blankly out the window.
Even from a distance she could feel the emotions churning inside him. He looked spooked, his body braced as if ready to run. She wanted to tell him that running didn’t solve anything. It was as destructive as shutting down. Without steady, consistent motion, the pain lay dormant, waiting for the next time to come to the surface, and the healing was intensified and prolonged.
Beneath that easygoing charm and flirting, Ford was fighting a battle of his own. His personal relationship with loss and guilt clearly kept him from what he desperately needed: genuine connection.
A peaceful place to rest his head.
“I talked to Mr.White’s attending nurse,” she began, and when Ford didn’t move a muscle, she knew he’d been aware of her the entire time. “He got out of surgery a few hours ago and is in recovery. They repaired his lung, and there was minimal internal bleeding. He’s going to be there for a few weeks, but he’ll make a full recovery.”
It was as if all the air was knocked out of Ford with a single whoosh. His shoulders slumped forward, his body curved in, and he hung his head. “Thank you.”
Liv placed a gentle hand on his back, offering comfort and connection, surprised to find him shivering. “Are you cold?”
“Just the adrenaline crash,” he said, his head still hanging. “It’ll pass.”
She stepped up behind him and wrapped her arms around his middle, resting her cheek on the middle of his back. His stomach muscles bunched under her fingers.
