Page 72 of All Along The Watchtower

Of course, I wasn’t in the habit of staying up for almost three days in a row. The human body wasn’t meant to run that long on coffee and pure mule-headedness, no matter what I’d tried telling myself in that endless hospital waiting room.

Ford shifted, his arms tightening around me, the warmth of his breath stirring the hair at my temple. My throat tightened. He’d been on the mainland with me for days, by my side through this whole nightmare with Pop. Handling paperwork. Fielding calls. Making sure I ate. Being exactly the rock I needed.

Putting me ahead of even his own daughter.

But we’d been here before, after the fire. He’d held me together when I thought my world was ending. Stood firm when I couldn’t.

Until he didn’t.

A tiny voice inside me whispered that this time was different. He wasn’t some twenty-year-old kid anymore. He had Peyton to think about now, and he was committed to sinking in real roots on Hatterwick again because she needed stability. A home. He wasn’t going anywhere.

The idea of that was as terrifying as it was comforting. Because if he stayed… if hereallystayed… what did that mean for us? In the safety of the dark, I could admit that we’d been working our way back toward some form of an us from the moment I’d made that phone call and heard his voice.

“You’re thinking really loud.”

I jolted. “Sorry.”

“You okay?” The sleepy rumble of his voice and the circles he traced on my back soothed the heart that had kicked into high gear.

“I don’t know.” The admission slipped out before I could stop it. Maybe because, in the cocoon of the dark, it felt safe to say that. Maybe because I was too tired to police my thoughts. Or maybe because, after everything that had happened, my carefully tended emotional walls had crumbled into dust.

“I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. For you to leave again.” The words burned my throat. “And I hate that I still care enough for that to matter.”

Ford’s chest expanded with a deep inhale, no doubt searching for patience, and tired of all my emotionally avoidant bullshit.

“Look, this is not the time for this, but I need you to hear this. I know I’m a package deal now. But I’m serious about provingthat you’re a priority for me.” His fingers slid beneath the fall of my hair to cup my nape. “I can’t promise I won’t fuck up somehow and hurt you again. I’m human. But I won’t do what I did before. I won’t disappear on you.”

I so desperately wanted to believe him. To let go of all my remaining defenses, because I was so damned tired of fighting everything I felt for him. And yet…

“What did you mean the other night about what we might have been?”

The question hung between us in the darkness, heavy with all the years of unspoken words and missed opportunities. I knew what I wanted him to have meant. Everything that mind-blowing kiss had implied. The promise of something real, something that could last. But I was done making assumptions about anything. I’d learned that lesson the hard way and paid for it with far too many sleepless nights and tears.

The silence stretched so long I wondered if he’d fallen back asleep. Or maybe he just wasn’t going to answer.

His chest rose and fell beneath my cheek. “That you were the thing I didn’t realize I’d been looking for. Right under my fucking nose.” His fingers tightened on my nape. “I’ve loved you basically all my life, but I didn’t realize until then that I wasinlove with you. Which was piss poor timing on my part, considering.” A short, humorless laugh punctuated the statement. “But I was young and bone stupid.”

In love with me. The words flowed over me like silk. The whisper of a promise unfulfilled. Of course, I’d been in love with him for years by then. But much as I’d wanted him, much as I’d needed him, I hadn’t truly believed he’d loved me back. Not when he’d up and left.

Heart pounding so hard I thought it might burst from my chest, I swallowed past the lump in my throat. “That was a long time ago.” The words came out hoarse, strained. It seemed onlyfair to give him the out. I hadn’t planned to ambush him with any of this, hadn’t meant to dredge up feelings better left buried in the past.

“Nothing’s changed for me on that front, Bree.” The rough pads of his fingers traced along my jaw, tipping my face up toward his. The touch sent sparks of electricity dancing across my skin. “I know it’ll take time to earn back your trust, and I don’t expect you to do anything with this right now because you’ve got too much on your plate, as it is. But it seems only fair to tell you that I’m still in love with you. I have been for the past ten years.” His voice dropped lower, intimate in a way that made my stomach flutter and my toes curl.

There was pleasure and pain in hearing those words I’d waited for so long. He loved me. He wanted me back. He was willing to wait for me on my timetable. I’d wasted so many years holding him at a distance with my pain. My mind instantly began to race with all the reasons this was an absolutely terrible idea. All the ways this could go wrong. All the ways he could hurt me again, leaving me shattered and alone like everyone else in my past, save the man currently fighting for his life in that hospital bed.

But the reality was, no matter what Ford had done in the past, he was here. He’d been with me through the whole nightmare of this situation with Pop, handling my panic and grief and fear, without question, without wavering. He’d shouldered my emotional storms without flinching. He’d told me I was a priority, and he’d proved it with every quiet action and steadfast promise kept.

When would it be enough to overcome the landslide of shitty relationship examples that had led to this point? When would I believe what was directly in front of me, instead of letting the ghosts of old wounds cloud my vision? How many more times would I have to watch him show up, stay present, andprove himself before my heart would finally trust what my head already knew?

Ford loved me, and I was so damned tired of being afraid. Of fighting what I felt for him. Of pretending the magnetic pull between us wasn’t strong enough to override a decade of carefully maintained distance.

My fingers curled into his t-shirt, the soft cotton bunching in my fists as I shifted, lifting my face to his, searching out the mouth that had haunted my dreams. The first brush of my lips against his was tentative. Ford sucked in a breath, his fingers flexing on my nape an instant before he pulled me closer. As he deepened the kiss, warmth spread through me like honey, and I melted against him, twining my legs with his.

This wasn’t the desperate, drunken comfort of all those years ago. This was a promise. A beginning. Maybe a homecoming, too.

Ford’s hands slid beneath my pajama top, skating up my spine. Trembling, I arched into the touch, desperate for more. As heat pooled at my center, I rocked against his powerful thigh, driving myself higher, searching for more friction. When that wasn’t enough, I threw my leg over his hips, rolling to straddle him, until the bulge of his erection was nestled between my legs, a firm, warm pressure almost where I needed it most. My head fell back on a moan. Oh, God, that was better. I began to ride.

Ford cursed and gripped my hips, thrusting in time with my rhythm. “God, Bree. Shit. We don’t—You’re vulnerable. This isn’t?—”

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