Page 149 of Burn the Wild

Dakota adjusts her son on her hip and says, “Don’t worry. He’ll be back to his grouchy self in no time.”

I laugh.

Davis steps into the room. Keena bounds at his boots, wagging her tail heartily.

“He wants to see you,” Davis rumbles. He rubs the back of his neck.

I hesitate, feeling awkward under Davis’s cool stare. “Oh, I—I don’t know.”

Dakota peers at me. A smile tips her full lips. “You should go up.”

“He’s pumped full of drugs,” Davis says. “So he’s acting like a damn idiot, but he, uh, also needs to see you. He won’t shut up about it.” Despite the gruff tone of his voice, there’s relief on his chiseled features.

I nod. “Okay. I have to do one thing first.”

Half an hour later, I’m back at Davis and Dakota’s house, heading down the hall with a bundle of black fur in my arms. Charlie and Wyatt, standing guard outside the bedroom door like a pair of cowboy sentries, each give a nod when they see me. Gratefulness shines in their eyes.

I chew my lip. “Davis said it was okay—”

“Go ahead,” Charlie commands somberly.

Then I’m stepping into the room.

Ford’s in bed, propped up by pillows. Shirtless, he’s hooked up to an IV. His eyes are glassy with drugs, but when he sees me, he gives me a big, lopsided smile.

“Birdie Girl,” he exclaims joyfully.

At the sight of him, my knees go weak.

“Hi,” I say. “I brought you someone.”

I place Mouse on the bed. She heads for Ford, and his hand comes out to clumsily stroke her fur. She arches under his touch, butts her head under his palm.More, please.

And then Ford’s free hand, large and warm, wraps around my wrist. Pulling gently, but firmly, he sits me on the edge of the bed.

I stare down at my wrist, blinking. I forgot I didn’t have my bangles.

“How are you?” I ask, fighting hot tears in my eyes.

“Better than ever, baby.”

I laugh. “Somehow I doubt that.” I sweep a lock of hair off his brow. My touch seems to comfort him, so I do it again. Eyes heavy, he settles back against the pillows.

“My dream girl,” he murmurs, kissing my palm with exquisite care. “You and me, meant to be.”

His words sink into me like sunlight.

“Hush. You’re talking foolish, Ford.”

“But I’m not, baby,” he says in his deep, drugged voice. “I dreamed about you, and you came true.”

“Sleep, Country Boy.”

“Don’t wanna,” he slurs, fighting to keep his eyes open.

But I have the trick to make it happen. I scratch my nails through his hair. A soft, satisfied noise rises in the back of his throat. Smiling, I watch as his eyelids get lower and lower until he’s asleep, his broad chest slowly rising and falling.

The most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen.

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