Page 97 of Addicted Lies

Just as I go to reply, I hear a commotion in the background and then Ford’s voice floods my ear.

“Are you hiding from me, Chaos?”

To say I’m shocked is an understatement. Not once did I think he would be around my parents when I’m not there.

I curl into myself, contemplating whether I should hang up, but I want to hear his voice. It’s been the only sense of relief I’ve felt since being here.

“Why are you on my mother’s phone?” I ask quietly.

“She kindly informed me that she would not tell me where you were, and the only way I was going to find out was if you told me yourself.”

Silence stretches, and I pick at my pink toenail polish.

“You’re okay?” I finally ask.

“No, I’m not, because my woman’s decided to go on a little holiday without me. And to say I’m the jealous type is an understatement,” he growls.

I can’t speak. Apparently, my parents already had suspicions about our relationship. It explains why she reacted badly toward Matthew at the party. We were clumsier at keeping this secret than I realized. Or maybe I was in denial about the bond that kept pulling us back together.

“Come on, baby, tell me where you are,” he pleads. I know it’s only a matter of time until he finds me. And the reality is I can only stay away for so long. I was just hoping by the time he found me or I had to head home, that my thoughts would be clearer. Because right now, I can’t make sense of anything I want. My heart and head are at war. I want to be with him, but I want to protect myself in the process, and I can’t seem to find middle ground.

Yet here he is, on the phone, seeking me out yet again.

We really can’t stay away from one another.

Even when I try.

“Mexico,” I reply quietly, and my heart picks up, my mind screaming at me that if I reopen this, there’s no going back. That if I let him in again, I’m a goner, and I don’t know if I can handle the risk and pain. I never knew I was such a coward.

“Where in Mexico?”

“Please hand the phone back to my mother.”

“Not until you tell me,” he grits.

“I think you already know.” My voice is hardly audible. The phone is shuffled around, and I’m not sure what’s happening until my mother’s voice comes back on the other end.

“He just left,” she tells me.

I’m still picking at the nail polish as if unable to lift my head. I don’t know why I feel like this. And I don’t know how to get out of this funk. I don’t know how I’ll react when I see him. When I confront him and what happened in that bunker. I don’t know how I’ll confront the memory of the moment I thought he was dying right in front of my eyes. It haunts me.

“Does Dad know?” I ask.

“Yes.”

“And what do you think?” I ask, anxious to hear her answer.

“It’s not what about I think, sweetie. This decision, you have to make on your own. But for what it’s worth your father and I like Ford. And any man who is willing to die for our daughter is accepted into our family, even if he wasn’t already before. But you have to put that man out of his misery. He was pacing my carpet.”

“It’s scary,” I admit, my hand going to my heart. I feel so deeply for him. Care far more than I ever thought possible. And the way he dictates my mood, for better or worse, can’t be a good thing. Right?

“Love is a scary thing. It’s not guaranteed unless you speak to one another honestly. But, sweetie, imagine your life both with and without Ford. That will be your answer. If you can let him go, then you never loved him enough. And that’s okay, too. But if you’re willing to risk the hurt and the fall, then sometimes that’s when the most beautiful thing can arise. Trust in what your heart is already telling you.”

“Thanks, Mom. I need to think.”

“Or maybe you simply need tobe. Go for a walk or something.”

I laugh as I wipe away tears. “That sounds good too. Bye, Mom.” I hang up the phone.

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