Chapter 15 Stormy
Stormy
Missy perks up like Jensen's words have ignited a spark inside her. She blinks fast, blanket slipping off one shoulder.
“Wait … what are you talking about?” she says, nudging Jensen’s leg with her foot. “What do you mean he’s got it bad?”
I’m still standing by the door, keys in one hand, painkillers in the other, not sure what to say or where to put myself. My brain feels like it’s been wrung out and hung up to dry.
Jensen groans, rolls onto his back, and throws an arm over his eyes.
“Okay, okay,” he mutters, sitting up slowly like it’s costing him years off his life. “I heard the whole thing ...” He turns to me, eyes still bleary. “Sorry, I wasn’t eavesdropping. But you two weren’t exactly whispering.”
I laugh, awkward and too loud.
“Right. Sorry.”
Jensen waves it off.
“He came over here all broody, trying to act grumpy about the keys, but Stormy …” He gestures dramatically at the blister pack still in my hand. “Painkillers. He brought you painkillers.”
Missy gasps like it’s a plot twist from one of my thriller novels.
My brows furrow.
“They’re just painkillers.”
Jensen shakes his head, eyes wide with mock seriousness.
“Yeah, but it’s what the painkillers mean.”
“They don’t mean anything,” I say, but even I don’t sound convinced.
Jensen snorts. “Besides … did you see his face when he thought you had another guy in here? Devastated.”
He laughs, full and unfiltered, and Missy practically squeals.
“I knew it,” she says, pointing at me like she’s won a bet. “He couldn’t stop looking at you in the booth last night.”
I stare at them both, heart thudding in a way that has nothing to do with the hangover. And everything to do with Ford.
I scoff, shaking my head like it’s nothing.
“You’re both reading way too much into this. He dropped off some keys and painkillers, not a love letter.”
Missy snorts.
“Yeah, yeah. Sure. And I only wear mascara to impress my cat.”
Jensen frowns, blinking at her.
“You don’t have a cat.”
She grins, smug.
“Exactly.”
That catches me off guard, and despite myself, I laugh. Jensen chuckles too, shaking his head like he’s surrounded by lunatics.
Then he leans back against the couch, arms folded behind his head.
“Stormy, come on. The man showed up before breakfast with painkillers and a broody attitude. That’s Ford code for I like you, but I’m emotionally constipated.”
I roll my eyes, but my cheeks are warm.
“He was just being nice,” I mumble, heading toward the kitchen like the kettle is far more urgent than this conversation.
“Nice?” Jensen calls after me. “He looked like someone kicked his puppy when he thought you had another guy in here.”
I busy myself with mugs, teabags, and breakfast, pretending not to hear them. But my hands move slower than usual, and the kettle takes longer to boil. And somewhere beneath the hangover and the noise, something soft and stupid and hopeful starts to bloom.
Jensen took off a little while ago … said something about tracking down Ford. Now it’s just me and Missy, sprawled across the sofas.
“What’s your plan for the day?” she asks, browsing through Netflix with one hand, and propping up her head with the other.
I stretch, the book on my lap forgotten.
“Actually, I need to go pick up the keys to the new building I bought this afternoon. That’s pretty much all I have planned.”
Missy perks up instantly. She sets the remote aside and turns toward me, legs tucked under herself.
“Oh yeah, I’ve been meaning to ask, why’d you move here? I heard you telling Jensen last night about the bookstore, but why not set up in England? Why come all the way out here?”
I hesitate, trying to keep my face neutral.
How do you explain something like that to someone you just met?
How do I tell her I’m running from a life that broke me, from a past I want no part of?
From a relationship that physically and emotionally damaged me .
.. That the people who mattered most, my mum, my sister, are gone.
That the only family I have left, my father, is someone I refuse to let be part of my life.
Missy notices the shift, the pause, the way I falter just slightly. She moves closer, knees brushing mine, placing a hand gently on my knee.
“You don’t have to tell me if you’re not comfortable,” she says softly.
I force a small smile and decide to keep it simple.
“I just needed a fresh start. I got out of a bad relationship not too long ago, and … I don’t have any family.” I shrug like it’s nothing, trying to play it off.
She squeezes my knee lightly, holding my gaze before giving me a warm smile.
“Well,” she says, “you can count me as your family now.” Then she nudges my shoulder playfully, grinning. “And that ex of yours?” She scoffs. “Hope his dick falls off.”
I let out a startled laugh. “That’s one way to put it,” I reply, voice laced with amusement, grateful for the light-hearted turn.
“You can come with me if you want?” I offer. “If you’re not busy today, that is.”
Missy brightens instantly, bouncing lightly on the sofa.
“I’m not busy! I don’t work weekends,” she says, practically buzzing.
“Well … I do have to check in on my mom before she calls a search party, but other than that, I’d love to come.
Wait … I have an idea! It’s almost lunchtime anyway.
Why don’t you come with me to my moms for lunch, and then we can head out from there?
She makes some great hangover food,” she grins.
I laugh, shaking my head at her teasing.
“I would love that. Sounds perfect.”
I push myself up, stretching a little before turning to get ready. Then I pause.
“Only if your mum would be okay with that, though?”
Missy waves a hand, dismissing my concern without hesitation. “Of course she would! Now go get dressed!”
I nod, heading toward the stairs, but I pause at the bottom step.
The painkillers are still sitting on the side, a small, crumpled reminder.
I pick them up, turn them over in my hand.
Just painkillers. Such a simple gesture.
But he thought about me.
And no matter how much I try to brush it off, I can’t ignore that.
Ford comes across as grumpy and closed off, but that gesture of kindness, of thoughtfulness, was enough to show me something else.
Something quieter. Truer.
I close my fingers around them, exhale slowly.
It’s been a long time since a man did something just to be kind.
Since someone looked at me without wanting something in return.
And maybe that scares me.
Maybe I don’t know how to trust it yet.
But still, some quiet part of me hopes it didn’t mean nothing.