Chapter 24 #2
When they come back to me with guilty eyes and a plan, I can’t do anything else but listen. “Sydney is going home with the boys. I’m staying with you tonight.”
I want to argue but I know it’s pointless.
“And then, Morgan is coming over tomorrow. Ford’s being discharged on Thursday right?” Darshi asks.
I have no idea how Sydney and Darshi managed to get Morgan involved in this plan but I know not to ask questions when Darshi is in rescue mode.
“Gregory Hale is picking up Winnie in twenty minutes. Go pack a bag for her.”
And that’s where I draw the line. “Winnie isn’t going anywhere.”
Darshi looks at me and lifts a perfectly manicured finger. It reminds me of the day she decided Sydney and I were going to be her friends at school. Darshi never accepts no for an answer.
“Either you are packing Winnie a fucking bag, or I will send Sydney to do it. And you don’t want Sydney in charge of anything children related,” she argues.
From the next room, Sydney yells “I’m the father of your fucking children, Darsh.”
Flexing her finger, Darshi lifts her brows pointedly. Right. Message received.
???
I never knew how much of a village it takes, but when Ford finally comes home, I’m glad I had that village. I’m glad I let someone take care of me, even for just a couple of days.
With Ford at home life feels like before the accident but not quite.
He stumbles around, looking disoriented and confused by his surroundings.
Every time he sees one of his possessions I think he’s going to lose it, he’s going to accuse me of stealing him and his identity away, of selling his apartment and putting on the greatest show to prank him.
He talks in his sleep, something he’s never done before, and although I can’t make out real words, I know they aren’t good dreams. I want to wake him up every night, tell him that he is okay, but I’m scared he will go to sleep in the guest room and I can’t bear being away from him.
Having him at home, even without his memories, is better than not having him at all.
Better than having him in a lonely hospital room.
And most days, it feels like it’s 2022 and we’ve only just gotten together.
Ford is shy around me and I love to see the way his hair curls right after a shower.
I love to hear him strumming on an instrument without a real plan of what will come out. I love existing with him.
And then Greg drops Winnie back home to us and Ford cuts her apples the right way, he braids Winnie’s hair and he holds her when she gets sick.
I nearly forget about the accident. I let my guard down and allow myself to smile and every time Ford returns it, my heart skips a beat.
I dare to hope for a future with Ford, like I’ve been imagining for years.
In that future I see my brothers and Gregory Hale, so when one Sunday Erik rings me to suggest we meet, I agree. And Ford is wonderful.
As we make our way to the park, I can see that he is curious, so I tell him. “You know, sometimes I wonder if it was therapy that made my brothers realise how fucked up our parents were. Or if it just took meeting your dad when we got together.”
Clearly Ford doesn’t know what to do with that piece of information, so I add “They met him and collectively decided to be like him.”
Ford nods. “Either way, I’m glad you can count on them now.”
“You can, too. You’ll see.”
“Right,” Ford concedes.
Ford is wonderful, until he isn’t. I should have known that Ford was a ticking bomb just waiting to explode. And when he does explode, it hurts more than any accident. It hurts more than my parents’ never calling again, more than Daddy saying he’d rather have no son than a gay one.
“I’m just trying to be okay with the fact that I lost my best friend,” Ford says on Sunday night and I wish the Earth would swallow me whole. He doesn’t get it. After all this time, he still doesn’t see me. He still doesn’t give me a chance.
“You did not lose me, though. I’m right here,” I beg, but he doesn’t believe me.
Things change after that. Though, not for worse. For some reason, things change for the better.
The following week, Ford kisses me. He asks me about the adoption and he kisses me, he makes dinner and he kisses me. And he does a lot more than just kissing me.
I thought I got lucky the first time around.
I got to have Ford for a while and now the universe was telling me enough, you have been happy enough.
When he lost his memories, I thought I’d lost him for good.
How was I ever going to get under him, on top of him?
Turns out when two people are meant to be, nothing matters.
Ford grabs my hand one evening and asks “We’ve had sex before, right? All the way?”
I don’t know if he’s joking or not. He’s wearing a pair of black sweatpants and a black t-shirt and his brace is off, the last proof of the accident gone with it.
His naked arms are devastating. My mouth must be hanging open, because Ford comes closer and presses his body to mine.
There’s no mistaking the hardness pushing into my side and I cough, unsure.
“Ash?” He looks at me expectantly and it’s as if the universe had known exactly what eye colour would make him most powerful.
He was given the most exquisite shade of mahogany, so dark they seem black every time Ford gets lost in his mind.
Yet, a brown so delicate and sweet, I feel the sugar rush only staring back at him.
“I remembered something new,” he says.
It happens more and more, these days. Ford just calls me from the other room and tells me about a random piece of our life before. Then he leaves, like a tornado that’s finished shaking everything up.
“I was listening to the radio and that song from Miley Cyrus came up.” His voice is comfortable, confident even. “I remember you singing it. And I remember singing with you. I remember getting you flowers.” The last part is barely a whisper.
“What’s that to do with sex?” I whisper stupidly.
Ford snakes his arms around me, his hands resting lightly around my waist. He smells like soap and laundry and I adore him.
I love him. “Nothing.” His lips are attached to my throat and when he bites down, I let out a visceral grunt.
I feel Ford’s grin, then. “I just… your face, in this flashback. You looked so handsome. Right now, you look so handsome. And I thought, I wondered, what does your handsome face look like when you’re fucking me? ”
Goosebumps form on my skin and I hold onto Ford for dear life. My head drops to rest on top of his shoulder. “Fuck,” I breathe.
“But then I thought, I don’t remember if you’re fucking me. Or if I’m fucking you. Or both?” Ford rolls his hips into mine gently. “I forgot. Will you remind me about us? Please.”
And of course I will. Because I’m nothing if not a good scholar.
???
On Friday I have to go to university for a meeting and I hate that I have to leave Ford and Winnie.
Both seem uncertain and scared of being left alone, but if Ford is sure about moving forward with the adoption, I have to know that I can trust him.
My heart breaks when I close the main door behind me and I lean into it for just a second, listening to the voices inside.
“We’re gonna have fun, peanut,” Ford is telling Winnie and she’s giggling. I’m already cast aside. Good. I force myself off the door and I start walking.
After the meeting some of the professors are going for drinks and as much as I want to go back home, I agree to join them.
I check my phone for messages but I find nothing from Ford.
Okay then. I tell myself to relax. Everything is fine.
I allow myself to have a good time with my colleagues and I tell them about the progress of my doctorate, about the inspiration that strikes at very random times.
When I finally get back home it’s late and both Ford and Winnie are asleep. I check on Winnie on the second floor and then, I check on Ford on the first floor. Both are laying on their side, hands tucked under their pillows. Both look adorable and innocent and mine. All mine.
I move as quietly as I can but as I’m sliding into bed, Ford stirs.
“Hey. You’re back.” He rolls closer, nuzzling his nose into my neck.
“I am. Go back to sleep.”
Ford shakes his head in a silent ‘no’ as he guides me onto my side. His chest presses against my back and I can feel every defined muscle.
With tottering hands, he caresses down my spine and then Ford leans into me, his lips attached to my neck. The hair sprinkled on his chest tickles me and I’m a mess already. Hard and squirmy and hopelessly in love with Ashford Hale, my childhood best friend.
“Ford, I…”
His hand grasps my chin and he turns my head to face him, his mouth capturing mine in a deep, agonising kiss.
Instinctively I push my hips into his groin and Ford crushes me in a tight embrace.
His right arm is weaker still, but Ford’s resolve is stronger.
“Can I please fuck you?” he growls in my ear and then moves away, waiting politely for my consent.
Oh, for Christ’s sake. “You don’t need to ask. I’m yours,” I tell him and to make things clear, I rub myself against him.
His erection brushes the curve of my arse and I’m sure being a bottom for Ford is my calling in life. The thought almost sends me over the edge and we haven’t even started this.
“Let me see you,” I urge, but Ford shakes his head and holds me still, hooking one of his legs on top of mine.
Bringing my hands to his thick thigh, I twist my upper body and then I search for his eyes. Ford licks his lips in anticipation and then he tugs at my pyjama shirt shyly.
We get undressed hurriedly and then, finally, we’re both naked. Panting. Ford’s fingers are coated with lube and he’s pushing inside of me methodically, painstakingly slow.