Page 26 of What I Should Have Felt

“I know you’re capable of taking care of yourself, but O’Connor’s men are big and ruthless. They hurt your father, and now you!” She closed her eyes as her bottom jaw trembled.

Relief flooded my figure, and my shoulders fell away from my ears.

This wasn’t about Ford.

“Mama, I’m all right. Just a bump to the back of the head. It was a scare tactic, that’s all.”

“A scare tactic? Then why was there blood on the floor?!” Her eyes shot open, and she closed the distance between us. “It’s those damn Thibodeauxs’ fault! If that—” She clicked her tongue as her mouth pulled into a thin line. Her jaw clenched as she curled her fingers into a ball. “If that horrible son of theirs hadn’t returned, you wouldn’t have been hurt.”

“I’m fine, really. Other than a bonk on the—”

“Absolutely not. You will go over there and tell Ford to turn himself over to O’Connor. It’s the least he could do after causing all of this.” She pursed her lips and cocked her hip.

“Mom, seriously. He didn’t cause all this. Besides, what good would that do?”

“Either you go over there, or I will. But either way, thatboywill face the consequences,” she spat.

Anger boiled my blood, and I swallowed stiffly.

Ford was not a boy.

Besides, I’d already threatened him and asked him to fix this shit, even though he wasn’t really at fault. Part of me wasn’t ready to admit I’d sought him out for comfort and safety after everything had happened. Part of me wasn’t ready to admit that I’d merely found an acceptable excuse to seek him out.

She raised a brow. “It’s you or me, Colette. And if I go over there, there will be blood because I am not losing to them.”

“I’ll go, jeez,” I muttered and plopped my rag down on the table. I didn’t want to lose to them either, but after accusing Ford—after being attacked—something had shifted inside me. The feud between us and the Thibodeauxs seemed less important now. Especially since I never understood why we were fighting them to begin with.

“Don’t take it easy on him just because he’s been gone for a while, either; he’s still a Thibodeaux, and if he finds out about you-know-what, everything changes,” my mom called out after me as I walked out of the restaurant.

Normally, that would’ve fueled a fire in my belly to give Ford absolute hell. Or at least I thought it would, considering I’d already tried to sneak up on him and stab him again. But maybe it was because I’d already tried to push the blame onto him. Or maybe it was because of the kiss, but either way, all it did was frustrate me.

In reality, it was probably because I’d finally admitted to myself that the true anger festering within me wasn’t directed at Ford, but at myself.

Chapter 11

COLETTE

Just as I neared the front of the Thibodeauxs’ restaurant, the front door swung open, and out came the very man I was looking for. But he wasn’t alone. I glanced back at the street as confusion and shock boiled within my stomach. There was a cop with him, and a cruiser sat parked on the side of the road, directly in front of the restaurant.

Why was a police officer here? Was Ford in trouble? Why hadn’t he called me for—

Wait.

I shook my head as their quiet conversation floated into the air. Ford hadn’t called me for fifteen years. He hadn’tneededme for fifteen years; why would he need me now? There it was. My irrational self trying to come up with a reason to be mad at him. I’d spent so much time being angry at him for leaving that it had practically become part of my identity. A part of me that I didn’t like at all.

The cop nodded once at Ford, shook his hand, and with his belt jingling, he walked across the sidewalk to his car. I turned back to look at Ford, who was already staring at me. His two different-colored eyes, deeply set beneath pronounced brow ridges, studied me with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine.

I remained still. Frozen in place by a look that held an entire world of desire and regret. Pain encompassed his massive frame in a way that seemed as haunting as if he were a ghost himself in a life that he’d never truly owned.

He’d left as an unsteady, unsure boy and come back a man who was confident in himself, yet burdened by what seemed like death itself. I had been clinging to this idea that he was still the kid he left as, because that made hating him so much easier, but as his gaze lingered on me, unmoving and unwavering, I knew that to be entirely false.

Letting go of what he’d done wasn’t going to be easy, I knew that. But I believed he knew that, too, and yet, he seemed unafraid to do whatever it took.

His gaze flickered away from my eyes, darting down to my lips and then back up. My heart skipped a beat, landing directly in sync with his again. For the first time in years, I felt…human again. I felt some semblance of being a wild woman again. This time, it seemed,if, and I mean a big if, I toyed with the idea that something could happen between us, I wouldn’t be the one in charge.

He would lead me.

Which seemed rather conflicting with the image I tried to convey to everyone else.

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