Chapter 22 #2
“I told them no,” he said, his tone pained and raw. “They roughed me up a bit. I still said no. So they…went after you.”
My stomach dropped. “What?”
“The car that sideswiped you,” he went on. “They’ve been following you. They trashed your place. I think…they hoped you’d be home.” The agony on his face was real. “I don’t know if they really meant it, or if they were just trying to scare me. But they said they’d hurt you if I didn’t cooperate.”
Holy shit. My pulse thundered in my ears as I sat down in the chair beside the bed. I’d known something was off with my brother. Every instinct in me had screamed it, but I’d wanted to believe Christopher was good, that he finally had his head on straight and I could stop worrying about him.
“And you didn’t say anything?” That hurt the most. Christopher couldn’t help if these guys were scumbags, but my life was in danger and he’d known who the threat was and he’d said nothing.
“I wanted to handle it,” Christopher said quietly, shame thick in his voice.
I didn’t even know what to say. Anger, fear, heartbreak, they all tangled in my throat until all I could do was sit there, staring at the brother I loved more than anything, realizing just how close I’d come to losing him…and maybe myself, too.
The door opened and I looked up, expecting to see Chase. Except it was Ford.
He rushed in, looking tense, his gaze sweeping the room in a flash of panic.
When his eyes landed on me, I watched the tight line of his shoulders ease, the tension bleeding out of him in visible waves.
He exhaled hard, running a hand down his face before he glanced at Christopher, taking in how battered and bruised he was.
“Christopher…glad you’re okay,” he said, his voice low but still edged with adrenaline.
“Ford?” Confused by his presence, I stood up. “What are you doing here?”
For the first time since I’d met him, he actually looked embarrassed. His hand went to the back of his neck, rubbing there as he met my gaze. “Could you step outside the room for a second?”
“Sure.” I gave Christopher a firm look that said this conversation isn’t over and followed Ford into the hallway.
He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling roughly. “I—uh—misunderstood the situation.”
I shook my head. “Ford, why are you here?”
“Chase called me,” he explained. “I was at the police station. They finally tracked down the guy who’d threatened you and the detectives are looking into whether he hired someone to terrorize you.”
“That…isn’t really a problem anymore, actually.” I didn’t know how to tell him the truth. I was so tired of having to defend my brother to other people, but this time, I knew there was no excusing his actions.
It was ironic. All this time, I had been protecting myself from a man breaking my heart, but when it happened, it wasn’t a boyfriend. It was my own brother.
Ford blinked, confused. “What do you mean…” he shook his head.
“We’ll get to that. When Chase called me, he said, ‘you’re going to want to meet us at the hospital’ and I just…
I didn’t let him finish. I heard your name and my brain went straight to worst-case scenario.
” His throat worked as he swallowed. “Fuck, I thought it was you who’d been hurt. ”
Ford’s words hung in the air between us, raw and vulnerable. And his eyes…God, I’d never seen them like that before. No cool, unflappable control. Just open, unfiltered fear, and relief. For a moment, I couldn’t speak. The intensity in his gaze was too much. Too honest, too real.
No one had ever looked at me like that. Not with irritation or challenge or desire, but concern. Genuine, gut-deep worry. And something more—something tender and unguarded that reached straight through my defenses and made my heart stumble in my chest.
I was torn between the ache of what I’d just been through with Christopher and the unexpected pull toward Ford, the man who’d barged into my life like a storm and somehow made me feel safer in the middle of the chaos.
That protective fear on his face hit somewhere deep.
It shouldn’t have mattered. It shouldn’t have made my throat tighten or my pulse race. But it did.
This wasn’t about him being my bodyguard. This emotion pouring off him wasn’t duty or obligation. It was personal. It was Ford caring about me, not as part of his job, but because the thought of something happening to me scared him on a level he couldn’t hide.
Suddenly, I couldn’t fight my feelings anymore.
Not the secret longing or the walls I kept rebuilding every time Ford got too close.
My brother had just betrayed my trust and put me in danger without even warning me, and I was so damn tired of pretending I didn’t need anyone.
I’d spent my whole life being strong and independent, protecting myself, convincing everyone, including Ford, that I was fine on my own.
But standing there, looking into his eyes, I felt something inside me give way.
He wasn’t asking anything of me. He was just there for me. Solid and unshakeable in a way that made me want to stop running. To believe, just this once, that letting someone in didn’t have to end in heartbreak and pain.
I opened my mouth to say something, to thank him, to apologize—I wasn’t even sure—but Ford must have seen it on my face, the moment my defenses cracked.
Because before I could do more than draw my next breath, he was there, closing the distance between us in the quiet hospital corridor, his hand sliding to the back of my neck as he pulled me in and kissed me.
The sound that left me was half gasp, half relief. I clung to him, kissing him back with everything I had left. The taste of him, warm and real, made my knees weaken. I could feel the faint tremor running through him, the tension he hadn’t shaken since he’d stormed into the hospital.
Ford could have any woman he wanted, but here he was, shaking with the aftermath of nearly losing me. Even after how hard I’d pushed him away, after every wall I’d thrown up, he was still there. How could I keep fighting that?
He pressed me gently against the wall, his arm circling my waist, the other hand cradling the back of my head as if he couldn’t stand the thought of letting go.
I fisted the fabric of his shirt and pulled him closer, holding on like he was the only solid thing in a world that had suddenly tilted sideways.
When we finally broke apart, our breaths were uneven, ragged, mingling in the small space between us. Ford rested his forehead against mine, his chest rising and falling against mine. I let myself lean into him fully, letting him take my strength, my fear—everything I’d been carrying alone.
“I can’t lose you,” he said softly, his voice breaking on those words.
Not you’re mine or you belong to me. It wasn’t possessive. It wasn’t a claim. Just a truth whispered from somewhere sincere and heartfelt because he was scared of losing me.
“I’m sorry,” I choked out, the words tumbling past the lump in my throat as so many emotions broke free. “I’m sorry I—I’m so—I just—”
“Hey.” Ford’s voice was rough and low. “You’re okay.”
He kissed my cheek, then the other, and I realized I was crying. “You’re okay, baby,” he murmured so sweetly, his hand splaying warm and steady against my back. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”
And for once, I didn’t argue. I let myself believe him. I buried my face against his chest, breathing him in and letting him hold me.