51
“Y ou sure you want to do this?” Ford asks as we leave the bright sunshine behind and step into the lodge.
I squeeze his hand. “I’m sure.”
He sighs. “Reese.”
I press a hand to his chest. “And then a nap. I promise.”
“Deal,” he grunts. He hasn’t stopped scowling since I woke up. The last two weeks, he’s been a tense muscle, always by my side as I give interviews to podcasts and newspapers. If I didn’t already have a new publicist who’s an absolute bulldog, I’d hire Ford.
Slowly, he guides me across the wood-planked floor. The pain medication I’m on makes me drowsy, but it’s only for one more week until I get my stitches removed. Ford has hardly stopped fussing over me since I woke up. Bullying me to nap, to rest. I can only love him for it.
Now closed for the season, the lodge is a strange sight to behold. It’s been cleaned recently, and the air smells like fresh lemons. Drop clothes cover the furniture, with only the leather couches left exposed. And there, waiting for me, is Bo Bosko.
He stands, stretches out a massive paw. “And so she lives.”
Ford scowls.
“So I do,” I say with a smile.
When I lift my arm to shake his hand, I wince and try to reset my face into a neutral position, but Ford’s fast.
“Sit down, Birdie,” he says, placing a protective hand on my back.
Bosko lifts a brow. “New bodyguard?”
I eye Ford with amusement as he settles on the couch beside me. “Something like that.”
“Thank you for coming,” I say. “I wanted to thank you for all your help.”
Bosko grins at me, that gold tooth flashing. “You’re the one who did everything. All I did was get you the evidence.”
Evidence I used.
I finally put my voice out there. For the fans, for the world to hear. It’s everywhere—on the television, on the radio, on the internet—and it’s getting support. I’m getting support.
I gave interviews about my suicide attempt, and the documents I provided showed Gavin’s misconduct and mismanagement of my career. His entire team—doctors, publicists, lawyers—threw him under the bus the first chance they got.
Exposing his truth, and mine, was like a weight released. For so long, Gavin used Muirwood and my suicide attempt as power over me, to keep me silent, to strip me of my autonomy. I never trusted my own thoughts or feelings, and speaking about what happened feels somewhat healing.
It will still take time—but I’ll get there.
Bosko looks at Ford. “The papers are asking where Gavin is.”
“He took a trip,” Ford says.
Bosko grins. “Long trip.”
I bite my lip. Ford and his brothers took care of Gavin. What they did, they won’t say. All I know is that it’s over.
I hate what Ford did, because he did it for me. But I love him so damn much for doing it, too.
Ford clenches his jaw. “Can we wrap this up? I want Reese to rest.”
“Ford.” I lay a hand on his leg, and he settles. Somewhat.
“There’s just one last thing.” Bosko’s dark gaze lands on me. “Your parents.”
My breath catches. Ford pulls me tighter against him.
“I got in contact with them like you asked.”
I clear my throat. “And?”
“They want to see you, Reese. If it’s what you want.”
A gasp escapes me. I close my eyes.
After years of thinking my parents didn’t want me, the truth has come to light. They were trying to do their best, and he took advantage of them, just like he did me. After watching me night after night in dark bars, after noting our struggles, Gavin presented himself as an agent. He told them he could make me a star and offered to help them in their difficult time.
But when they were back on their feet, he refused to give me back. They couldn’t fight him, and they’ve spent the last eighteen years watching me from afar. I can’t imagine how awful and painful it was for them.
A tear drips down my cheek. “Yes,” I whisper.
Ford runs a hand down the back of my hair. His vigilant gaze stays on my face. “We can go whenever you want. You just say the word.”
Every damn thing I need to happen, Ford makes it come true. I’m the luckiest woman in the world.
“I’ll pass along their information.” Bosko gives a curt nod. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a plane to catch.”
Ford stands first to shake his hand, then I throw my arms around him in a hug.
We say goodbye to Bosko and watch him stride silently out of the lodge to wreak havoc on his next poor, unsuspecting victim.
I let out a long breath.
“You okay?” Ford asks, taking my hand to lead me through the lodge.
“I am. I’m happy.”
“You’re exhausted.”
I arch a brow. “You’re hovering.
He frowns. “I’m not hovering.”
“Prowling,” I snap back.
“You like it when I prowl,” he jokes, but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes.
I stop him near Bar M. “Ford, you have to believe I’m okay.”
“I do.” He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I’m the one who’s not okay. But I will be.”
The pain in his eyes wrenches my heart. The kidnapping and its aftermath will always live in my mind, and I know it will haunt Ford. But I never doubted him. I knew he’d come for me.
“We’ll both be okay,” I tell him.
“Yeah,” he says softly, running a thumb over my bandages. Ford’s seen it all. The ugly aftermath. My scars. They’ll be faint, but I’ll always have them.
“No arguments,” he says, his expression stern. “Nap time.”
“Beck and call, huh?”
“Until you’re better, Birdie.” The look he gives me scorches. “And every day after.”
I step into his arms and give his neck a nuzzle. “This is where we met.”
Glancing over his shoulder at the bar, he chuckles. “Still want to throw a glass of water in my face?”
I grip his shirt and tug him closer. I’m so damn ready for him to kiss me. “I can think of better things to do with you now.”
He leans in and kisses my lips. “Prove it.”