Page 164 of Burn the Wild

“I didn’t believe that you wanted to talk to me, but here you are.” He looks offscreen. “Mom! It’s really him.”

“I’ve thought about you a lot,” Ford says. “About what I did.” He drags a hand through his floppy gold hair. “I’m sorry for fucking up.”

“You don’t gotta be sorry,” Mark says, genuinely puzzled.

A muscle jerks in Ford’s jaw. “But I am, kid. I’m really sorry.”

“Man, are you kidding me? I’m going to put that on my college application.Beaned by Ford Montgomery.I kept the ball.” The camera swivels to show a baseball sitting on a dresser.

Ford laughs, a husky rumble that has my heart beating double time. “Come out to the ranch and I’ll sign it.” He scans the kid’s face. “So you good? In school and—and everything?”

“Yeah, man. I got straight As last month.” His face wrinkles in disgust. “I hate math.”

“Same.” Interest lights Ford’s expression. “You play any sports?”

“Of course.” A beam tips Mark’s mouth. “Baseball. Oh! And soccer. What about you? You ever going back to playing baseball?”

I tense. Sorrow clogs my throat.

Soon, the summer’s over. I should be focused on what happens after. My freedom. The end of my contract with Gavin. But that’s not what really matters to me.

Not anymore.

“Not sure yet,” Ford drawls. “Got some things happening, but you’ll probably know when I know.”

A sly smirk crosses Mark’s face. “Are you really dating Reese Austin?”

“Nosy as hell, ain’t you, kid?” Ford says, but he’s grinning.

Mark laughs. “That’s what my dad says.”

“Yeah,” Ford says, reaching out to clasp my hand. “That’s my girl.”

I flush.My girl.Sweetest words I’ve ever heard in my life.

“Say hi, Reese.”

Cheeks heating, I peer into the camera and flutter my fingers. “Hi.”

Mark hoots. “I don’t listen to country much anymore, but your first album was the best.”

I smile. “I like that one, too.”

“Holy shit!” Mark drums the desk in front of him. “You two have the same numbers. Your jersey is ninety-eight, the same title as her first album.”

Ford and I stare at each other in stunned silence, jaws slack.

Then he chuckles, rubs a hand over his jaw. “Damn, kid. Just spreadin’ all kind of revelations over here, aren’t you?”

They talk for a few more minutes, then with promises to keep in touch, end the call.

Grinning, Ford tugs me into his arms so I’m sitting on his lap. He lets out a watery breath. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

His fingers stroke my cheek, and my heart beats faster. “I was broken, Birdie. Until I met you.” His throat works.

I smile up at him. “You’re not your past, Ford. And I’m not mine.”

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