Chapter 31
Esme
All in all, Peter let me out after two days.
And that was only because a doctor yelled at him and told him they needed the room.
I was fine. Externally, that was.
Internally, I felt like I was still an inch away from death. And that was largely due to the fact that Ford wouldn’t look at me.
Or talk to me.
That wasn’t to say he wasn’t physically there, because he barely left my bedside, only getting up to talk to doctors or check on Sky and Shadow or take his daily Soren-mandated shower.
I was in and out of sleep for the first day, each time I woke up feeling slightly better.
By that night, I was ready for my stitches to come out.
I was still having a hard time wrapping my head around how I was alive, how I could be this healed already, even with a hoarse voice and tender scars on my throat.
I was doing well enough by the second day that Bellamy brought me a steaming mug of my favorite tea that she snuck into the hospital wing and informed me of Ford’s own injuries.
A pretty thorough beating, double dislocation of his shoulders.
Once they were popped back in, he was fine within a few hours.
Even with that assurance, I could have sworn I felt myself speed along in the healing process a little faster, powered by the Bond’s bloodlust.
Ford continued to hover silently, swearing he was fine, even though I knew he wasn’t.
If Ford was fine he would be crawling into my hospital bed with me, brushing a hand over my hair as he recounted everything that happened in a level of detail that might have seemed painful to someone else but was exactly what he knew I needed.
That Ford was nowhere to be found. Instead, I got a version of him that was quiet and severe and dismissive. It reminded me of how he was when we first met.
I hated it.
I’d tried to talk to him at least three times, even going so far as to say we need to talk, to which he shot out of his chair like it was on fire and mumbled something about going to talk to a doctor.
When that very doctor said that I was free to go at the end of my second day, promising Peter and Ford and every protesting voice in the room that I’d get far more rest in a real bed and—with a pointed look at Ford—in my normal sleeping conditions.
I couldn’t help but push matters, just a little bit. “I have a clean bill of health?”
The doctor nodded, clearing her throat. “As if this injury happened weeks ago.”
“So I can resume any normal…activities?”
Peter coughed into his hand, Soren and Bellamy shared a look, and Ford…well, I was pretty sure I wasn’t imagining the twin spots of pink that bloomed on his cheeks.
“Nothing crazy, but yes,” the doctor said, trying to hide a smile of her own. “In fact, I think that may even help.” This, with another pointed look at Ford.
See, I’m not going crazy. He’s being weird! I wanted to shout, but didn’t think that would go over very well.
He avoided eye contact, then insisted on carrying me right out of the hospital wing. He only let me down when the doctor told him that she needed to see me physically walk out of there to officially discharge me, even though I’d spent the better part of the morning pacing around my cage of a room.
He grumbled at her, then trailed me all the way to the cabin that had been cleared out for me to recover in, refusing to engage with any of the conversations I tried to start.
When we crossed the threshold to the cabin, the room warm and freshly laundered, I debated physically locking him in there with me.
A smart choice, seeing as when I turned around, Ford was hovering in the doorway, hand on the doorknob.
His eyes were on the floor—or rather, my feet I realized, when he began a slow, nearly painful, climb up my body. He paid each inch special attention, as if the bony curve of my ankle and slightly crooked bend of my knee were as fascinating to him as a master’s painting.
By the time he made it to my chest, staring so intently I was nearly convinced he was counting my freckles, I was about to jump out of my skin from the nerves.
Then he reached my neck and looked away before his eyes could make it to my face. If he had, he would have seen that I was letting every ounce of love for him pour through into my expression.
It nearly wrecked me, just to let that depth of emotion through.
Ford cleared his throat, staring down at his boots as he kicked a non-existent speck of dust off the right one.
“Are you alright?” he asked the floor, more than me. I debating making a joke about that, something not-quite-witty about the floorboards needing a sweep.
I decided against it, from sheer fact that there was something in his tone that made me want to cry.
“Yes,” I said, careful and measured.
“Okay.” He nodded at the floor again, his knuckles going white over the doorknob. “You should get some rest. I’m going to be outside…for a while.”
Well, that was the very last thing I wanted. “Why?” I sounded like a petulant child, but I just didn’t care.
My tone was enough to make Ford look up from the floor. Whatever he saw on my face had his entire facing pinching with a wince, which he cleared with a shake of his head.
“Esme,” he said with a heavy breath. “It’s okay. They made me stay in the room to help you heal, but I don’t have to be around you every second. Especially if that’s not what you want.”
What a ridiculous thing to say. “That’s exactly what I want.”
The look on Ford’s face shattered my heart like a vase crashing to the floor. “What you want,” he pressed. “Not the Bond.”
Oh, God, I hated Elijah. I hated this situation, I hated this war.
I hated every single thing that got us to a place where Ford believed that I didn’t love him.
I even hated the Bond a little bit at that moment, for giving Ford a reason to believe that there was any reason other than him that made me want him.
“I meant me. The Bond doesn’t make me think anything I wouldn’t already feel.” It would expand on it, yes. That fact was quite cruelly evidenced by the panic searing through my veins at the mere prospect of Ford leaving me alone in this cabin.
“Maybe in some respects.” The dismissal in his voice only made me even more afraid. I took a step towards him and he put his hand up, halting my progress.
That one movement broke my heart, right before he gave me the most hope I’d had in years.
“But I know that the Bond didn’t make me love you.
That’s all me. And I’m sorry to throw this on you, especially when you kept your feelings—” Ford cut himself off with a shake of his head and I had a sudden flashback to the first honest conversation we’d had about the Bond, when I’d told him I didn’t have feelings for him.
How I regretted those words now. “That you kept the Bond quiet for so long. I’m really glad you’re physically okay, but, God, Esme, I had to watch you nearly die while I was tied to that fucking chair.
It’s going to take me a long time to come back from that and act normal around you.
And I’m too fucking tired to pretend right now. ”
He was looking at me, but was clearly not seeing me, otherwise he would have noticed that I was crying. Or maybe he did, and just thought my tears weren’t filled with near-painful joy.
Ford pushed on. “The Bond might have helped me break out of those binds, but I would have sawed off my own arms to get to you before he could—” He cut himself off, covering his mouth with his hand to trap a sob. I would have sprinted towards him if I wasn’t rooted to the spot in astonishment.
It was a little hard to believe this was finally happening.
“I don’t begrudge you for not returning the feeling.” No! I wanted to shout. “If all we have between us is the Bond, I’ll take it. I’ll take whatever you can give me, but I can’t pretend like I’m not in love with you. Not right now.”
Then he tried to leave me.
He took a step out the door and I was running towards him with a broken, “Oh, Ford.”
He caught me before I could slam fully into him, grabbing my wrists and holding me an inch away from his chest. I understood that. Before, I could hardly stand the feeling of his hands on me, knowing it was everything it to me and casual to him.
His eyes bounced around a bit, trying to find some safe place for them to land, before they finally closed.
Start talking, I scolded myself. If I let this go on too long, I’d dissolve into a fit of hysterics and we’d get nothing done.
“My love,” I said, far more broken than I intended it to be. I would have preferred it to sound warm and inviting, but a hoarse whisper was all I could manage.
It was enough to get Ford to open his eyes. A stuttered start, opening then closing them again with a wince. Deep down, I knew that he thought he was hearing things.
I’d been there many times myself. I stayed patient, even as his thumb started to swipe over my pulse point in a way that made my knees weak.
On his second start, he opened his eyes fully and our gazes snagged together and held for a heavy beat. I pressed on, if not to distract from the fact that Ford’s eyes were glazed over with the threat of tears.
“I love you.” I left that there for a second, repeated it even softer under my breath, making sure Ford heard it, before I continued. “I lied to Elijah and to you. It was so, so unfair of me to lie, but I thought there could be a way for you to keep living if you thought I—”
My words were cut off by the hard press of Ford’s mouth against mine. Until that moment, I hadn’t realized how deeply I’d needed that contact. I’d only experienced it for such a short time, I was still working to let myself acknowledge it.
“No. Never.” Ford said against my mouth, in between the breathtakingly gentle pressure of his lips.
He let my wrists go, settling his hands on my shoulders then sweeping down my back.