Page 35 of Deal Breaker
The secret curls inside me like a live wire, buzzing and dangerous, impossible to contain. It’s not just guilt that eats at me—it’s grief. For what could’ve been. For what I never gave Ford the chance to know. And the worst part? He was kind tonight. Still rough-edged, still infuriatingly controlled, still very much Ford Winters—but also open. Vulnerable, in the quiet looks and the way he said my name. The way he said June.
I press a fist to my chest, trying to settle the ache there.
He deserves to know.
But telling him changes everything. It risks Poppy’s world. It risks mine. And selfishly, I don’t know if I can stand to watch him look at me with betrayal in his eyes. I made a choice—right or wrong—to raise her on my own and now she’s six and he’s sitting across from me at dinner asking me to try again, not knowing he already has something that means so much more than a date or a kiss or a second chance.
He has a daughter.
He just doesn’t know it yet.
The front doorclicks shut behind me as I step onto the porch, the night air cool against my flushed skin.
“Thanks again, Tessa,” I say, walking the babysitter out to her car. I wait until her headlights disappear down the street before I go back inside, locking the door behind me.
Tessa is a sweet 17-year-old-who lives two blocks over. She’s always polite and responsible, and was recommended by a couple of teachers at Poppy’s school who promised she was the babysitter that every parent trusted. It helps that Poppy adores her.
The house is quiet now. I toe off my shoes, shrug off my coat, and let the silence settle as I pad down the hallway. Poppy’s door is cracked open the way it always is when she goes to bed, a slice of warm yellow light spilling into the hall.
She’s curled up in bed, her princess gown twisted around her knees, her stuffed bunny tucked tight beneath her chin. One sock half-off. One arm flung to the side. I crouch beside her and smooth the hair from her forehead. For a moment all I do is stare. Memorize the curve of her cheek, the flutter of her lashes. The tiny sigh that escapes as she slips deeper into sleep.
She looks so much like him. She always has. And tonight, with his voice still in my ears and the scent of his cologne lingering, it’s harder to pretend I can keep them apart forever.
“I saw your dad tonight,” I whisper, my voice barely a breath.
My throat tightens. I blink hard, swallowing the emotion that’s been clawing at me since dinner.
“You’d like him, Pop. He’s stubborn and bossy, and he thinks he’s always right—but he’s good. He’s so good. And he used to make me laugh so hard my stomach hurt.”
She stirs but doesn’t wake.
“I want to tell him,” I add. “I just don’t know how.”
My fingers trail across her forehead one last time, then I press a kiss there before backing out of the room.
I leave the door cracked.
And this time, I close mine all the way—like that’ll somehow keep the ghosts at bay.
FIFTEEN
Ford
I wake up too early. Again.
The house is still as I sit on the edge of the bed for a few moments, elbows on my knees, trying to shake off the constant reel of images in my mind.
I saw her last night.
Not just saw her—was with her. Walked beside her. Nearly kissed her under the stars like no time had passed. And then she pulled away, a sharp reminder that it had.
I drag a hand through my hair, scrub it over my jaw. I haven’t trimmed the scruff on my face in two days. I’m sure I look as rough as I feel.
The coffee maker percolates in the kitchen. I don’t even remember pressing the damn button. I pour a cup, black and scalding, and stand at the wall of windows, staring out over the expanse of trees. I’ve always felt like this is the most peaceful place in the world, but right now all I feel is lost, like everything I want is just out of reach. Landyn being back in Deep Cove changes everything.
Last night, after dinner, I hadn’t planned on asking her if Icould see her again. I don’t know how I thought the evening would go, or what would come after, but when it came time to go our separate ways, all I knew is that I didn’t want to say goodbye. The thought of Landyn and I going back to exchanging awkward, forced greetings in the office sat like a stone in my stomach. It’s not enough. It’s nowhere near enough. I still have unanswered questions, and I know that she isn’t telling me the whole truth about why she’s back in town. But when I am with her, I feel more like myself than I have in years. I feel understood in a way I don’t with anyone else. It’s familiar, comfortable, like returning to a place that used to feel like home. And the intense pull I feel towards her every time she walks into a room—I’ve only ever felt that with her, and it hasn’t weakened in the time we’ve been apart. So last night, when she turned to leave, I couldn’t let that be the end.
When I told her I wanted to see her again, I had expected her to be hesitant, maybe to offer up some excuse about it being a bad idea. Instead, she’d said nothing, but when I looked in her eyes it was like watching someone holding their breath underwater… and now, I can’t stop thinking about her. About the reason she left. About the things she’s still not telling me. About how much I want her anyway. But last night wasn’t the right time to push her. I know Landyn, and she’ll open up when she’s ready.
