Page 49 of Pretty Broken Things

Ford’s head slowly rolls to face me. For a moment he looks happy to see me, then his expression shutters closed. His hazel eyes slowly drift over my shoulder to where Shane is standing. “What is she doing here?”

“You two need to talk,” Shane insists. I know he’s saying this to me. He always seemed to have misgivings about not telling him what my dad was threatening, but he would do anything to protect Ford, even letting me break his heart.

“She and I have nothing more to say,” he insists, and starts to roll his head back to face out the tiny window.

“Ford,” I take a step forward, “please let me explain.”

His eyes are flat when they settle back on me. “I want you out of my life for good. You’ve been pushing me away for a couple weeks now, so let’s just make a clean break.”

Ford wheezes a little when he tries to breathe in. I did this to him. Of course he came to my room to talk to me, because I left him no other choice. I don’t know how I didn’t see my father’s manipulation in all of this, but he played me to perfection. Set up in a lose lose situation, I break up with Ford, but he still won’t have to keep his promise. If I told Ford my father wouldn’t let him stay, but if he wouldn’t leave me he couldn’t stay then either. There was never any scenario under my father’s rules where Ford didn’t end up in this bed.

I can’t say if it’s fair for me to push him on this right now. If I leave him here, am I making it worse? I honestly can’t say, but he needs rest now more than I need forgiveness.

I look back at Shane, and he tips his head to the hallway. I follow him out there. “Maybe I shouldn’t have called you here tonight. I don’t know what went down between you, but I found him beaten in his room. The fucker didn’t even let him get out of bed to fight back.”

Footsteps down the corridor alert us that we’re about to be caught where we’re not supposed to be. Camille turns the corner first, followed by a stern looking nurse with a severe, iron hued bun. She looks like she begrudgingly gave up a vintage starched white uniform for the scrubs she’s wearing.

“You two aren’t supposed to be back here,” she admonishes when she gets close.

“That’s okay, Ma’am,” Camille says. “That’s my stepdaughter and my son’s best friend. He’d want them here.”

Shane turns me to face him. “Remember when I told you I’d help you with Ford when it’s time?”

“Yeah,” I reply.

“Now isn’t that time. He’s going to be dealing with a lot, and I don’t think he’s going to be able to handle it with you around. You need to be gone for a while to let him sort out his head.”

I try to move around him, but he holds me firm. “Tess, he can’t play football anymore this season. Who knows when or if he’s going to recover all the way, which means—”

My head falls. “He lost his chance at a scholarship.”

Shane nods. “I’m just guessing right now, but it’s not hard to imagine. He lost you, college, and football all in the same day. Ford doesn’t rebound from setbacks like that quickly. Give him space. He’ll come around when he’s ready.”

“Where am I supposed to go?” I ask. I don’t think Shane is telling me to leave, but the urge to get in front of Ford and demand he let me explain is going to be too much for me. Not to mention I can’t live under the same roof as my father after this.

Camille fidgets, obviously listening in to our conversation. “Your father orchestrated this, didn’t he?”

“Yeah, he didn’t want Ford and I together. Which we were, before you both returned from wherever the hell you were with a miraculous quickie divorce.”

“We were in Vegas establishing residency. Six weeks for residency and a few more for a divorce is much better than the six-month waiting period in California,” she says softly.

“Swell,” I bite out. While Ford and I were struggling through life as usual, our selfish parents were living it up in Vegas.

“So, he didn’t force himself on to you?” she asks timidly.

My mouth gapes open. “He would never. Do you know nothing about him?”

She shrugs. “I didn’t think so, but his father—”

“Yeah, well my father is a manipulative, lying, asshole, but I’m standing in front of you telling the truth. You’re a coward, and yet Ford risked his own safety to save you. We are not our parents,” I snap.

Camille chews her bottom lip. “You’re right. I have a lot to make up to my son.”

“He’s not going to live in that house with my father,” I warn her.

“No, after I helped throw him out, I doubt I could do anything to lure him back there. And after I give you this, I don’t think you’ll be around much longer either,” she admits.

“What are you going to give me?” I ask.

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