Page 86 of Wild Love
“Yeah.” She sighs the word like she’s exhausted.
“What’s wrong? Where are you?”
I’m already standing.Worried.
Cora drops her voice to a whisper. “I got in trouble at school.” I hear rustling against the receiver, like she’s holding a hand up to block the sound. “I think the school called Ford. But he’s just so uptight sometimes. And I just… Can you come?”
“Be there in ten.”
I hear her sigh of relief.
“But, Cora?”
“Yeah?”
“Ford might seem uptight to you, but you gotta know that underneath all that, he’s torturing himself over how to make everything right for you. With him, it’s all in the actions.”
“You think so?” There’s so much hope in her voice.
Even though she can’t see me, I nod as I head toward my car. “Iknowso.”
If I thought waiting for pickup outside was a blast from the past, walking through the halls of my old junior high school is a full immersion in nostalgia.
Extreme nostalgia. A nonconsensual walk down memory lane. I liked school, but I preferred socializing. None of my best memories are here. Though I do spy the exact locker that witnessed my very first kiss.
I head straight to the office. It’s familiar because I often had to walk from the school, across the field, and wait there for West to finish his detention while I chatted with the nice administrators.
When I round the corner, I see Ford is already here. Cora is sitting on a bench, her head dropped. A steady stream of tears roll down her face, and I immediately want to punch someone. With my thumb in the right position, because fool me once and all that.
I decide to hang back. Ford is crouched in front of her, his elbows slung over his knees as his hands dangle between them. Would I even be me if I didn’t take a moment to appreciate how good his dark-wash jeans look stretched tight over his round ass and muscular thighs? A flash of him between my legs, eyes burning, cheeks flushed, dick hard, hits me. Every time he catches his tongue between his lips, I melt. The way he concentrates on a person when they have his attention is like a drug. The way I felt with his eyes on me, his hands on me. There’s an intensity, an intentionality to everything he does.
I can see why people vie for his attention. It’s addictive. And I think I’ve been addicted to getting his attention since I was a kid.
I’m only just realizing I’ve had it all along.
Cora’s lips move, and I can hear the deep baritone of Ford’s voice as he responds. She looks so small, so crushed.
I know he’s uncertain of how to act around her, but god, I want to give him a shake right now.
Hug the girl, you stunted idiot!
When he finally reaches out and rubs her shoulder, she crumples. And he finally does it.
He tips forward so he’s kneeling before her, tall enough that it brings them face to face.
And then he hugs her.
He wraps his jean jacket-clad arms around his daughter and holds her while she sniffles against his arm.
My eyes water. This makes me want to cry much more than my drowned sandwich. I slide back around the corner to gather myself before facing them. I shouldn’t have been rubbernecking, and I definitely don’t want to walk over there and add my hormonal tears to their moment.
Because it istheirmoment.
I breathe deep and count to ten. I shimmy my shoulders, sniffle, and wipe at the corners of my eyes to make sure I haven’t sprung a leak.
Then I step back around the corner. Ford is still kneeling, now wiping the tears off Cora’s splotchy face, and it’s not my eyes that explode. It’s my ovaries.
“I don’t want you to worry about this,” he murmurs. “I’m always going to have your back, all right? Never question that.”
