Page 37 of All Along The Watchtower

I sighed, the sound heavy with resignation. “No.”

“Tell me something. That afternoon she showed up at the Brewhouse, Sawyer and I were there. You could have let him call Ford and run interference on all of it. He’d have happily saved you the stress of that.”

“I know.” The words came out barely above a whisper.

“So why didn’t you let him? That’s not a criticism. I’m legitimately curious.” She leaned forward, elbows propped on her knees, waiting for my answer.

I bought myself some time by forking a bite of lasagna. For a moment, my attention was distracted by the herbed ricotta filling and bright tomato sauce. Was there anything better than homemade pasta? The warmth and comfort of it settled in my stomach, a welcome buffer against the weight of this conversation. But my friends waited with expectant gazes.

“She would have run. She came all this way fueled by desperation, with this idea in her head of finding her dad theonly thing keeping the fear at bay. Once she got here and found out that Ford wasn’t around, she was getting ready to bolt. I saw it in her eyes. If anything had happened to her because I was too chickenshit to call him after all this time, I would never have forgiven myself.”

“Bree, you’re many things. Chicken shit isn’t one of them,” Gabi insisted.

Oh, how wrong she was. But I was in no mood to disabuse her of that opinion.

“So that’s why you brought her home with you that first night?” Willa prompted.

“I figured she’d be more likely to trust someone who’d been where she is. I was a lot younger when it happened to me, but I still understand it. It’s a shitty thing, not belonging to anyone. Always waiting for the other shoe to drop. If I could keep her safe until he got here, I had to. Even if it meant having to face him again.”

Gabi topped off the wine I hadn’t even realized I’d drained. “And how did that go?”

“I didn’t murder him.”Or throw myself into his arms. “I’ll call that a win.”

I could still see him standing in my entryway, taking up all the space, looking exhausted and terrified and more vulnerable than I’d ever seen him. Ford Donoghue had always been a rock. Seeing him like that had left me… weak and wanting to be there for him. The urge to comfort him had been so strong I’d had to dig my nails into my palms to keep from reaching out. But that wasn’t who we were to each other. Not anymore. We’d burned those bridges more than a decade ago.

“You helped him look for her when she ran off.” Willa’s soft voice was a question of its own.

I twitched my shoulders, trying to appear casual even as my wine glass trembled slightly in my grip. “He asked. I was the onemost likely to figure out where she’d gone. And I was right. That wasn’t for him. It was for Peyton.” The words sounded hollow even to my own ears, but I clung to them like a lifeline.

Neither of them looked as if they believed me, but at least they didn’t call me out on it. Their shared glance of understanding made me want to crawl under the table.

Willa cut her pasta into small bites, not quite looking at me. “I know he hurt you. But it’s been a very long time, and it seems like the two of them are going to be in your life, whether you like it or not. Is there any possibility that this could be a chance for the two of you to start over?”

“No.” The answer was instant. Visceral. “I’ll be there for Peyton because she needs all the people in her corner she can get, but I’m not opening the door to Ford again.” My fingers tightened around my fork until my knuckles went white, and I forced myself to relax my grip.

Letting him back into my life in any capacity was a recipe for heartbreak, because he could never be what I needed him to be. I was safer having no expectations at all.

CHAPTER 19

FORD

“Mr. Donoghue, I appreciate you coming by with Peyton.” Police Chief Bill Carson was all easy smiles as he welcomed us to the police station. Given how he’d harassed Rios and Sawyer in our youth, I didn’t trust the casual attitude one bit. But when the chief of police asked you to bring your kid by the station, you did it.

“I assure you, this is just a formality.”

Beside me, Peyton practically vibrated with jackrabbit energy, clearly anxious about being here. Her case worker hadn’t mentioned any kind of delinquent behavior when we’d spoken. Maybe this anxiety was just over the possibility that something might threaten her new place here. I’d just have to do my best to reassure her. Nothing and nobody was going to take her away from me.

“Is this to wrap up some paperwork around the missing persons report that was filed in Oregon?” I asked, keeping my voice carefully neutral despite the tension coiling in my gut.

“Not exactly. Y’all want anything to drink? A Coke or something?” Carson’s casual tone only heightened my suspicion that everything was not as it seemed.

I glanced at Peyton, watching as she twisted the hem of her hoodie. Her face had gone a shade paler since we’d walked in.

“No. Sir,” she added.

“Alright then. Come on back.”

We followed Carson down a short hallway and into a small conference room that was dominated by a table and six chairs. Two other people were already inside. I pegged the woman as late forties, with long dark hair pulled back into a tail, sharp gray eyes, and a suit wrinkled like she’d been in the car for hours. Her companion, a thirty-something black man with wire-rimmed glasses and an equally wrinkled suit, shot a smile that was probably supposed to put us at ease. Instead, every protective instinct I had roared to life.

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