48. Ford
FORD
You’d think I’d be used to it after all of their hospitality over the weekend, and in a way, I am, but when we go to leave and June’s parents take turns giving me a hug, a foreign feeling spreads over me. It twists between my ribs and leaves me empty.
“And you, my dear Ford, are welcome back anytime,” Laurie announces. “Christmas, maybe?”
I smile back at her. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“That’s my boy.”
My boy. The same swell of sadness that’s hit more times than I can count over the weekend washes over me. I ignore it, offering a goodbye to Gerald before carrying our luggage and putting them in the trunk.
After June steals one more hug from her mom and dad, we climb into the car, and I pull onto the main road.
“So? What’d you think?” June asks.
I scratch my jaw, unable to look her in the eye. “They’re great, June. Really great.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” I murmur, too lost in my own thoughts to give her more than a one-word answer as I head to the airport.
The weekend went by in a blur of early mornings, celibacy, good food, hard work, and game nights after dinner.
It was so jam-packed, this is the first time June and I have been alone enough to really talk.
Or maybe I’m lying to myself. Maybe the reason we haven’t really talked has nothing to do with our lack of ample privacy and everything to do with the demons from my past.
“You sure?” A divot forms between June’s brows in my periphery. “You still seem…quiet.”
I am. Fuck me, I don’t want to be, but I can’t help it.
I’m lost in my own thoughts, and an all too familiar game of what-if.
What if I was raised with a different father?
What if I was raised with the same father, but instead of being a dick with a short fuse, he knew how to hold back?
He understood I was a fucking kid who only wanted to be seen.
What if I learned how to watch my mouth and activate a filter that comes so easily to my brothers?
It doesn’t matter how many years it’s been since I realized my dad would always be an asshole.
The feeling hits just as hard. I have everything. Money. Power. Opportunities. Looks.
June’s hand finds my forearm resting in my lap. “Ford, talk to me.”
Jaw tight, I look down at where she’s touching me.
Her smooth skin and dusty pink nails. Pretty.
Feminine. Subtle. Just like June. “Do you want the truth?” I meet her gaze again only to find her baby blues shining back at me.
There it is. The open, raw acceptance that is June Withers. “I’m jealous, June Bug.”
Her brows pull. “Jealous?”
“Yeah.” A dry, humorless laugh escapes me.
“Jealous as hell.” I reach up and touch her cheek with my thumb before turning my attention back to the road.
“I love my brothers. Trust me, I’d die for any of them.
But there’s something about having a mom and a dad.
Parents who care.” A lump lodges in my throat.
“I’m jealous, June. Jealous you got that when I never did. ”
It hurts to admit it out loud, but it’s a good hurt. I’m so used to bottling shit up that giving it room to breathe feels…cleansing, almost.
“Can I ask you something?” she whispers.
“You always do,” I muse.
With a smile, she turns her head and kisses my palm as if hoping it’ll soften her question. “What happened to your mom? Was she…was she like your dad?”
“Not even close.” The words feel like cannonballs.
Heavy and explosive. I sigh. “My mom was great. She was kind. Generous. And she always put her kids first.” I pause.
“My dad hated it. Said she coddled us. Was turning us into spineless, brainless, wastes of space who would only squander every dime of their inheritance.”
“Sounds like a piece of work.”
“He was. Is,” I correct myself.
“Did she know about…” She doesn’t finish her sentence, but it doesn’t take a genius to piece together what she’s referring to.
“Did she know my sperm donor liked to beat my ass every once in a while? Yeah. Maybe not fully,” I say, needing to defend her.
“It’s not like I’d show her my bruised ass or the welts on my back.
She only saw the bruises once.” A haze blurs my vision as the memories flash through me, making me feel like it happened yesterday.
“They were on my wrist from when he grabbed me for eating all the cookies Doris made that day. After, my mom brought it up to Titas, and it turned into a fight from hell. It lasted for days. I can still hear them screaming.” I rub at the edge of my jaw, trying to stay here.
In the present. “She threatened divorce. He threatened to take away her company, the one she’d built from the ground up. ”
“So she stayed for her company?” June breathes out. It’s laced with disdain and disbelief. Like she can’t believe my mom would be so selfish that she’d sacrifice my safety for it.
I shake my head. “He said he’d leave her and her kids destitute. Penniless. Take everything she worked so hard for. Everything that mattered. I couldn’t do that to her.”
She touches my arm again. “What do you mean you couldn’t do that to her?”
“I couldn’t ruin everything all because I had a big mouth,” I explain.
“Besides, overall, their marriage was…not great, but not terrible. I do think he loved her in a weird, fucked-up way. So, she came to me. Told me to tell her if it happened again. Told me she’d pick up everything and leave him.
That nothing mattered but her kids.” With a sigh, I flick on the blinker, turning onto the highway.
“But I knew what was at stake, you know? And I knew my brothers and my little sister and my mom, they deserved more than that. More than being caught in the middle of my mess all because I couldn’t control myself and would say stupid shit and was way too good at getting under his skin. ”
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“Yeah, in theory, I know that,” I admit. My mouth lifts. “In theory.”
“So, you don’t believe it?”
“Nah, I think I do.” I shake my head and pull the car over, so I can focus on our conversation instead of the road.
She doesn’t question it. Doesn’t ask why we’re stopping.
Hell, it’s like she can read my mind. My need to clear the air and get this off my chest no matter how hard it is to lay out all my dirty laundry for June to see. “I don’t know.”
“Keep going,” she whispers. “I want to hear everything.”
“It got worse after she died, but he still knew better than to hit me in the face where people could see. Or at least, he tried avoiding the face until we all started showing up with bruises because of fights. After that, it was free game, I guess.”
“Ford,” she chokes. And I swear, the pain in her voice could rival my own. “That’s…that’s awful.”
“He’s a piece of shit, but I’m not exactly the minority around town, June Bug.”
“That doesn’t make it better,” she argues.
She’s right. It doesn’t. If anything, it only proves how messed up Harden Heights and The Drift really are.
“All I’m saying is,” I lean my head against the headrest. “I’m happy for you.
Happy you got to live in a home like that.
With laughter and board games and parents who…
” My mouth lifts, and I lean closer, kissing her gently, grateful I’d pulled over so I can.
When I finally give the girl some space to breathe, I finish, “Damn, Bug, they adore you.”
She stares at my chest, running her hand along the cotton fabric covering my left pec that separates us from skin-to-skin contact.
Part of me wonders if she even recognizes she’s doing it, and if the touch is for me or for her.
She’s such a softie, neither would surprise me.
Her need to comfort me. To make things better.
To erase the years of crippling pain and all the damage they’ve done.
But the crazy part? It’s how well it works.
How quickly the thoughts, the memories, the ache.
They all seem to dissipate whenever June’s around.
Like she’s healing me from the outside in.
Whether it’s her sourdough or her smile or the way she listens when I speak.
It makes me feel like the luckiest bastard on this earth in spite of everything I’ve been through.
“They adore you, too, you know,” she murmurs. “My parents.”
“They’re obligated to adore me,” I remind her.
She hesitates before giving in. “Okay, maybe a little—”
My laugh cuts her off, and she glares up at me.
“But trust me, Ford,” she continues. “I know my parents, and even though they’d love anyone I brought home, what I saw in that house?
It was genuine interest. Genuine curiosity and laughter, especially after the first night.
They really loved you, I promise. Heck, give it a year, and I’m pretty sure they’ll pick you over me, based on how hard you had my dad roaring in there. ”
My mouth lifts at the subtle Freudian slip. “A year, huh?”
Her amusement falls. “Did I say year?”
“Yeah,” I laugh. “Yeah, you did.”
“Oh.” She grimaces. “Well…”
“No take-backs now, June Bug,” I muse. “Looks like you’re stuck with me.”
“Pretty sure it’s the other way around, but I’m not complaining.”
Neither am I. Fuck, I might not feel like I deserve her.
I might not ever feel like I deserve her.
But I’m sure as hell not stupid enough to take her for granted.
And the fact that her parents were so open and willing to claim me, all because I’m in love with their daughter?
The realization is bittersweet, but I’m so desperate, I’ll take what I can get.
“Thank you,” I force out. “For introducing me to them. For, uh, for claiming me, if you will.”
“I’m lucky to have you, Ford.”
Again, it’s the other way around. I know it, and I have a feeling anyone with two brain cells would know it, too.
But if June’s sweet naivety keeps her around, then I’ll let her live in said delusion.
I’m just sorry I can’t give her what she’s giving me.
Another set of parents who would welcome her with open arms. Instead, all she’s stuck with is an orphan boy with more emotional trauma than Simba from The Lion King.
Wrapping my arm around her waist, I pull her into me and kiss her nose. “Love you, June Bug.”
“Love you, too.” She pecks my lips. “Now, let’s get back on the road before my Type A personality loses it, and I start having a panic attack about missing our flight.”
With another low laugh, I let her go and put the car in drive.