50
V oices. From far away. Light years.
Burning on my arm. Fire licking up my veins.
I feel like I’m in a trance, walking a tightrope between light and darkness. But I never get too close to that black hole, because Ford always pulls me back.
“Don’t give up, baby. Not when you’re so close. We’re so close. Wake up.”
I hear his lazy drawl, but there’s a strange desperation in his voice. Full of gut-wrenching pain and anger. I’ve never heard him sound like this.
I ache to reach out, to comfort him, to tell him I’m okay, I’m here , but I’m so tired. My limbs have never been so heavy.
Ford’s voice fades and blissful oblivion sweeps me up.
“Ford, you need to be prepared.”
“Don’t.”
A long pause.
“If she doesn’t—”
“ Don’t .”
“Reese.”
A growl.
“You want to die, you do it on your own time. You hear me, Birdie? You ain’t doing it here. Not while you got me. You got me, baby. Whether you like it or not, you got me.”
Lips sweep across my palm. My brow.
“Where’s my Bluebird? Where are you?”
The world tilts as I sit up in bed, weak and confused. My blurry vision clears as I look around the room. I’m not in a hospital or a black hole. I’m in a bedroom with pastel walls. On the nightstand, coffee cups and a stethoscope. Above me, an IV pole with a bag and tubing.
Outside the window, bluebird skies and the rugged terrain of Runaway Ranch. The storm is over. Like it never happened.
Joy sparks when I spy the small black cat curled beside me. Mouse yawns, flexes her sharp claws. Smiling, I reach out and pull her into my arms.
That’s when I see white bandages wrapped around my arms from wrist to elbow. Marveling, I trace fingertips over the length of them.
My heart skips a beat and then resets itself in my chest.
I survived.
Gavin, the storm, the lake—I survived it all.
I pull back the covers and place both feet on the cool hardwood. I’m dressed in an oversized Runaway Ranch T-shirt and the silk underwear I only wear for Ford.
Ford.
Pushing through exhaustion, I stand, swaying ever so slightly. After steadying myself, I pad across the floor and open the bedroom door.
I gasp.
Ford stands there, hand outstretched for the knob. His body tenses when he sees me.
I brace a hand on the doorframe, drinking in his handsome face. The dark shadows beneath his eyes, the scruff he’s let grow in. And that mussed lionlike mane he’s clearly been running his hand through—his telltale sign of worry.
“Ford,” I whisper, raspy.
His broody amber eyes are unreadable as he scans my face. “Reese.”
He says my name like a prayer. Like I’m everything.
Tears build in my eyes. My heart hammers.
And then—
One big stomp and he’s in my space.
“Reese,” he breathes again. I gasp as his hands cup my face and his lips devour mine. His heat is scorching. His big hands move in a velvet caress as they touch every inch of me. Then I’m crying and laughing at the same time.
“You should be in bed,” he husks, kissing my cheek, my throat. Then he picks me up and carries me back to the plush white bed.
He pours me a glass of water and perches on the edge of the bed, near my waist.
But I don’t want water. I want Ford. I wipe my face, drying my tears, then I reach out, my fingers skimming his scruffy cheek. “Come here. I need you.”
His face almost breaks. “You have me,” he says, pulling me into his arms and resting his forehead against mine.
“How long have I been asleep?” I ask.
“Long enough for me to be out of my damn mind,” he says gravely. Sighing heavily, he lifts his head and locks his gaze to mine. “Three days.”
“What happened?” I look around the room. “Where am I?”
“Ruby and Charlie’s.” His Adam’s apple bobs. “The road into town was out because of the storm. We had to set up a hospital room on the ranch with our on-site medic.”
I shut my eyes and take a shuddery breath. “How close was it?”
His face darkens. “Gavin shot you up with so much fucking sedative it’s a wonder you woke up.” I watch the way his muscles tense at the memory.
I look down at my bandages, my eyes like saucers. “My arms…”
“He missed,” Ford says bitterly. His face clouds with pain. “You were lucky. Any deeper and—” He breaks off, unable to finish.
“What happened to Gavin?”
Ford’s face tightens. “He drowned.”
My eyes widen in understanding, in disbelief, as his words settle over me.
I’m truly free. I don’t know how something so horrifying feels like a relief.
Tears blur my vision, and I ask what I already know. “Ford, did you…”
Ford’s vigilant gaze stays on my face. “He hurt you,” he says, the primal protection in his voice catching my breath. “He took you from me. No regrets.”
I sit there, stunned. Overwhelmed by what he did. This man rode in on a white horse and crushed my demons.
All the pain that Gavin inflicted, all the hurt I survived, it’s over.
I cover my eyes and cry. Ford holds me.
“Just breathe, Birdie.” His big hand strokes over my hair. “It’s over. He can’t hurt you anymore.”
“I’m glad he’s dead,” I whisper. “I’m sorry, but I am.”
“Don’t apologize. Not for him.” He brings me tighter against his chest. “I hope he burns in hell.” His voice bites with murder.
I cup his scruffy cheek. “Ford.”
Guilt and agony war on Ford’s handsome face. He dips his head, sweeping his lips across my palm. “I told you I’d protect you.”
“And you did,” I say sternly, refusing to let him blame himself. “You came for me. You saved me.”
“It was too close.” The tone of his voice is rough and low.“I was almost too late.”
“Don’t.” I wrap my arms around him and pull him close. My body molds to the man I’m meant to love. I inhale deep, smelling coffee and soap on his skin. Ford buries his face into my neck, his entire body trembling. A burning flame crackles between us.
“Here.” His voice vibrates through my body. “You were missin’ this.”
From his pocket, he lifts the gold necklace with his name. My heart flutters as he fastens it around my neck. I cover his name with a trembling hand, feeling the beat of my heart.
Love too strong rushes through me.
Ford places a stern finger under my chin and directs my mouth to his. “I love you,” he murmurs against my lips. His trembling hands tangle in my curls. “My beautiful, Birdie Girl.”
That string in my stomach unravels, tightens.
Knotted—the two of us.
Forever.