Chapter 12 #2
Adam had thanked me again for his new backpack before he left. I crouched down to give him a hug, if not to ignore the burning sensation of Ford’s attention.
I was not excited for that conversation, yet another humiliation. More proof that not only had the Bond been alive, but I’d been a hopeless servant to it.
I never told you to do that, the Bond snapped defensively.
I didn’t have the energy to craft a counterargument.
Given the crowd, there was no good way to flee while everyone left, forcing me to watch Ford hold back tears as his family walked away from him.
Well, hug him, damnit, the Bond commanded. God, how I wanted to.
I kept my hands clenched at my sides.
Though there was much, much to discuss, it seemed those conversations would occur in the morning. It was already well into the night, and when I’d asked Bellamy if she wanted to talk, she shook her head and said, “This is going to be a much longer discussion. Let’s talk when everyone is rested.”
I didn’t tell her that rest was a foreign concept to me, and that having to cram into my tiny room on the Base with Ford would prevent me from finding any sleep.
My feet shuffled along the stone floor as I made my way through the corridors to our room. The same one we’d had for eight years.
Most Matches that ended up developing into romantic partnerships were given private rooms, a rare show of grace from the Empire.
Though everyone knew that my Bond with Ford was…unique, no one had questioned the fact we shared a room together.
Now, I was really, really wishing they had.
The deep breath I took before opening the door was not at all calming, it just made my chest feel closer to exploding.
When I opened the door and saw the exhaustion on Ford’s face, my heart burst, spilling anguish through my midsection.
FIX THAT NOW! That shout could have belonged to the Bond or my own thoughts for all I knew. That mystery had always been the root of the issue.
Ford took a step back as I entered the room, keeping a respectful distance between us.
“Did you…um, was it good to see Sophie and the twins?” There, that sounded cordial enough. I didn’t want to talk about us, but I wasn’t enough of an asshole to leave him at his time of need.
Ford’s chest expanded with a heavy exhale, his eyes dropping to my feet then back up to my face. I wasn’t sure what that meant. “Yes. It was. No easier to leave them, though.”
“Right,” I replied with a tight smile. Okay, that was good. I checked in. Now, I could take a shower and wallow in self pity for a little, but at least the guilt wouldn’t be as potent.
I made it no further than a step towards the bathroom, barely turning my back to Ford, before he said, “You get to pick.”
I turned, confusion tightening my brows. “What?”
Ford’s face was free of emotion. To the average person, that might be comforting—at least it wasn’t anger there.
I knew better. When he looked like this, it was because he was actively hiding something.
I hated how much I wanted to know what.
“You get to pick,” he repeated, taking one, slow step toward me. Giving me the opportunity to step back. For some reason, I didn’t take it.
“You can either tell me how long you’ve been giving Sophie and the kids gifts or tell me whether the Bond has come back for you.”
“Since the beginning,” I said, not even taking a second to think about my response, just jumping at the least intimidating path as quickly as possible.
Panicked instincts were often wrong, a fact I was immediately reminded of when I saw Ford’s eyes flash with victory.
By answering his question about the gifts, I inadvertently answered his other question.
Ford nodded to himself, just one decisive duck of his chin. “Right. And why were you giving them gifts?”
My blinks stuttered. “Because it’s nice?”
Strangely, that seemed to be all the answer Ford needed. “Thank you for doing that. Luxuries are few and far between, especially for Sophie.”
He had to know I’d smuggled the necklace over. I favored Vir’s diamonds, but there was a lovely blue tint to those on Muli that I thought would compliment Sophie’s eyes.
I smiled, not at all forced. “She deserves it.”
Ford nodded in agreement.
Well, that was alright. Being honest didn’t light me on fire.
“Now, the Bond.”
Well, there went my commitment to honesty.
I turned again, facing the bathroom. “Can I at least shower before we have this conversation?"
It was late and I was exhausted and ever since Ford and I came tumbling out of the Bridge pressed together, I’d smelled like him.
Ford shrugged, but the move was careful, full of confidence. “I’ll be here.”
I made myself walk into the bathroom instead of trying to wipe that smug grin off his face. I’d never known him to be the type to tease and prod, but apparently I couldn’t trust anything anymore.
The shower was scalding hot, a poor attempt at calming nerves and washing the events of the day off me. The voice in my head asking repeatedly Where is Ford? in time with each breath made that difficult.
By the time I made it back into the cramped room, feeling just a hair better, Ford was sitting on the edge of his bed, hair wet from his own shower.
“Used Stevens’ shower,” he explained, jutting his chin towards the door and across the hallway.
My expression must have had a resounding why? plastered to it, because Ford added, “Didn’t trust you not to run off.”
Stop. That was not funny. The muscles in my cheeks didn’t listen, tightening with the whisper of a smile anyway.
Enough that Ford caught it, the right side of his lip kicking up in a small smirk. It used to be his left, but his scar made it difficult, so he’d started favoring the right.
The second the thought passed through my mind, I was assaulted with a wave of primal anger, the Bond catching wind of Ford’s injury and what had caused it. It never had time to process it, silenced hours after I’d dragged Ford back into camp, and it was reacting like everything had just happened.
Not something best left five years in the past.
Ford immediately sensed my change in demeanor, the tightness that locked up my muscles again. He stared at me for an uncomfortable beat, long enough that I reached for a strand of my hair under crossed arms, twisting it around my finger.
Again, Ford noticed, eyes dropping. My arms fell to my side a second later, panic suffusing my limbs. God, how I wanted to run away from this.
“I’m not trying to make anything difficult,” Ford said, voice edged with something forlorn. “But we need to be able to talk about this. If the Bond is present for both of us, we need to address it. Especially with…” He didn’t need to finish that sentence, we both knew what was at stake.
I broke eye contact, not even realizing how tightly Ford held my gaze until I pulled out of his grasp to look around the room as I gathered my thoughts. “I know.” Another breath. “It’s back.”
An inhuman sound, a low, dangerous rumbling, shot through the room and right through my stomach. Ford didn’t seem remotely phased by it. “What do you need? Right now.”
I understood what he didn’t say. If I answered him honestly about this, he wouldn’t press on the larger issues, ones I didn’t want to face right now.
My eyes fell to the bed underneath him, then moved to mine on the other side of the wall, forced as far apart as possible in the small room. Weariness bled into every corner of my being, and the idea of trying to wrestle the Bond for sleep while Ford was far away made me feel close to shattering.
“I just want to sleep,” I said, the words barely more than a whisper.
Ford didn’t respond for so long, I wasn’t sure he’d heard me.
Hard not to in a room this small. Even the softest whisper couldn’t hide.
It wasn’t until I looked back at him, realizing how deep into his thoughts he was. Considering, connecting.
Then, “You never fell asleep reading, did you?”
All the air sucked right out of my chest like a deflating balloon. My eyes flew up to his, finding them warm and curious, then hit the floor again as red hot shame burned my cheeks.
This was exactly the problem. Embarrassment was unavoidable if I started to be honest with him, if we got close enough to really, deeply talk about those early years.
“I just need to make sure you get a good night’s sleep,” Ford said, his voice noticeably softer in the wake of my silence. His pity hurt like barbed wire scraping over skin.
The Bond released its hold on me enough to let me shake my head. Realizing that didn’t quite answer his question, especially after he spoke again, I opened my mouth to admit to my shame—just one of many.
“No, I didn’t. The Bond…” The second I gave attention to it, it pushed a wave of memories at me, rife with dissatisfaction and confusion.
It hadn’t started out my choice. I’d been drafted a month before my eighteenth birthday, or what they believed was my eighteenth birthday.
The orphanage wasn’t quite sure, only able to make general estimates based on my development when I’d been unceremoniously dumped on their front porch.
An even harder task when neglect stunted a baby’s growth.
With Ford being on the far end of nineteen, base rules didn’t allow us to share a room. By the time they’d moved us into this one, I’d been deep in the Bond’s clutches and deep in the realization that Ford wasn’t.
The beds had started pushed apart, and I wasn’t going to be the one to suggest moving them together. Even though one of the paranimas on duty with us at the time had caught a glimpse of the set up and made a quip about voluntarily signing up for torture.
Naturally, the Bond fucking hated that, five feet far too much distance in the vulnerability of the night. I’d fought it for months, relegating myself to a life of sleep deprivation before I finally admitted that I would be getting no better if I didn’t figure something out.
Asking to share a bed was off the table, so I’d devised a new plan. I’d stay up late “reading” in a conveniently placed chair near the foot of his bed.