Page 80 of Tate
Still, his brain had tangled up into a mess of catastrophes and left him with nothing but staring at her, trying to figure out what to do next.
Until Gunnar had hit that home run today and he was saved by the seven-year-old.
Ford even got a hug out of it, one that lingered rebelliously in his head.
What he’d come to, after a day of pacing it out in his brain, was…he had no right to tell her that she couldn’t…well, do whatever she needed to.
In the meantime, he’d keep a keen eye on Axel, even if he had to sit on this cold porch all night, again.
He went out to the truck and retrieved his sleeping bag and self-inflating pad and settled down below Scarlett’s window.
The temperature hovered in the low sixties, and her window was open to the night, no AC in the house. He lay down, folded his arms under his head, staring out at the sky, the stars so bright they fell in a cascade of diamonds.
He’d slept under skies all over the world, but none felt right until he stretched out under this part of the world. How many times had he slept out on the range with Rube, Knox, Tate, and Wyatt—and even Ruby Jane. He’d longed to be like his brothers—cowboys, tough as leather, afraid of nothing.
Wow, he missed them. And the thought of calling his mother tomorrow and telling her that he couldn’t make Reuben’s wedding put a knife through his ribs.
But he couldn’t leave Scarlett in this mess. Not until she got her feet under her, figured out what to do.
Maybe not even then. Because this week had been a weird sort of vacation, detaching himself from his everyday routine of PT, training, lunch, more training, maybe lifting in the gym, occasionally picking up a game of basketball. A few of the guys liked to sea kayak, so he sometimes joined them.
Had taken a few surfing lessons.
But mostly, he spent his time alone, in his thoughts, reliving scenarios. Often in the gear room caring for his kit, his weapons.
His entire life was his job—he’d breathed being a SEAL since Tate became a Ranger. Had seen the pride in his father’s eyes after Tate graduated from Ranger school and wanted that too.
But he’d missed out on so much. His father’s death being the biggest regret. He’d gotten the news from Knox, who’d been out on the circuit trying to make a name as a professional bull rider. And Reuben had been smokejumping and Wyatt playing in the minors, Tate working as a bodyguard, Ruby Jane in college and he—he’d still been struggling through SQTs back then, trying to qualify.
His father had never seen him receive his trident.
His throat tightened at the memory.Ford, Dad died. Heart attack while he was out moving cattle.
Which meant he’d been alone. Not one of his sons around to help him.
Ford sighed and threw a hand over his eyes.
And that’s when something crashed in the kitchen—glass breaking, then a shout. “Get away!”
Ford found his feet in a second, still not in his bag, and hit the front door.
He slowed at the sight of Axel with his arm around Scarlett, leaning over her from behind, his other hand moving over her body. He’d clamped one of her arms to her torso.
The other was free for her to use.
“Get—off—me!”
She slammed her foot into his ankle, hard, and he shouted. Then she made a fist and swung it behind her, aiming for the soft parts.
She must have hit something because he cursed and doubled over.
And she rounded out of his grasp and slammed her open palm in his chin, reeling him back.
“You—” He called her a word and that was just it.
Ford took two steps and yanked the man into a sleeper hold, pressing hard on his carotid artery and jugular vein. “Don’t struggle.”
Of course, Axel struggled, slamming his elbow into Ford’s chest. Ford saw a few stars, the pain of his busted rib crashing through his brain, but he held on.
