Chapter 24 Ford
Ford
These fucking drains. I don’t know what these campers are doing.
Hosting plumbing sabotage parties? Because every time I fix the damn things, they’re blocked again, and I’m honestly starting to take it personally.
I know it’s not, not really, but I can’t catch a break, and I am just so fucking tired. Of all of it.
Shoving the last of my tools into my bag, I head towards my truck and throw it into the trunk with more force than necessary. Frustration coiling tight in my chest, tangled with anger … at myself and my own damn feelings.
I can’t shake the pit in my stomach for how I spoke to Stormy.
Jensen was right, she didn’t deserve that.
Yes, I was mad. But I wasn’t mad at her, I was mad at myself.
And I should never have taken it out on her.
It wasn’t her fault that I got distracted, that I enjoyed spending time with her, watching her with Buddy, whispering to him like he was more than just a dog.
And now, Stormy doesn’t sit out in her garden anymore. Probably avoiding me, just like I have been her.
I hate to admit it, but sometimes, even when Buddy wasn’t out there with her, I still watched.
Not in a creepy way, just … observing. I liked it.
Watching her read. The way her fingers brushed over the pages.
The way her smile lifted when she found something funny, or the way she pressed her fingers to her cheek when tears slipped down, lost in whatever story she was holding.
She was soft and unguarded. Everything I refuse to be.
I don’t know how she slipped under my skin so easily, but she did. And now? Now I miss it.
But I know her heart belongs to someone else, and I respect that.
I shouldn’t want her, anyway. It’s better on my own.
Safer. No one to rely on but myself. Because when your heart beats for someone, it’s the most alive you’ll ever feel.
But when it stops, when that connection is ripped away, it’s unbearable.
I’ve felt that before, twice, and I don’t think I could go through that again.
Still, maybe we could be friends. Now I know that wanting her isn’t an option, maybe I could try to overlook my growing feelings. Pretend they don’t exist.
I throw open the truck door and climb in after Buddy. I’ve noticed the shift in him, too. He misses his new friend.
Reaching over, I ruffle his fur, exhaling a heavy breath. “Sorry, boy.” He shifts toward me, settling his weight against my side, pressing close like he understands.
Then my phone buzzes in my pocket, a text from Jensen.
Jensen: You done yelling at innocent women and best friends yet, or should I wait till tomorrow to suggest a drink?
I haven’t spent much time with him since we argued, and I feel guilty for that too. Other than his visits to monitor Star, who’s getting closer to giving birth, we haven’t really talked. I should see him. Apologize.
Pulling up the thread, I type out a reply.
Ford: Yeah. I deserve that. See you at Hideout at 8?
Stormy’s at the bar when I walk in, denim shorts hugging her thighs in a way that makes it hard not to stare. Her oversized cardigan slips off one shoulder, the low light kissing bare skin and tracing the delicate curves of her collarbone. And for a second, I forget how to think straight.
There’s something about the way she perches on the stool, Converse tapping against the rung, laugh tossed carelessly toward Will—it’s adorable and sexy all at once. Completely disarming. Like she doesn’t realise the kind of effect she’s having.
I hate that she's here with him. I mean, not that it’s any of my business what she does. But still, the guy unsettles me.
I watch as Will reaches over, fingers tugging her cardigan back into place, and she lets out a small laugh, adjusting it herself. She looks more at ease with him this time though, comfortable and relaxed, so I don’t feel the overwhelming need to charge over and save her.
But it doesn’t stop the twist in my chest.
I spot Jensen leaning against the far end of the bar, nursing a drink, and head toward him.
“I owe you an apology,” I say, sliding onto the stool beside him.
Jensen eyes me, brows lifting like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
“Yeah, you do.”
I huff out a breath, running a hand through my hair.
“I was a dick.”
He takes a sip of his beer, nods.
“Yep.”
I sigh.
“You gonna make me grovel, or is that enough?”
Jensen smirks, shaking his head.
“You’re lucky I know what you’re like. If I didn’t, I might hold a grudge. But …” he sets his drink down, turning toward me fully now, “… you really do need to let people in, Ford.”
I look away, watching Stormy as she talks animatedly to Will.
“What’s this all about, anyway?” Jensen asks, his voice softer now. “What did Stormy do?”
I scoff, shaking my head.
“Nothing. She didn’t do anything.”
“So, why’d you bite her head off?”
I let out a long breath, staring down at the bar, trying to decide if I should say anything or not. But, after a moment of consideration, I decide that Jensen is probably right; he’s my best friend, so I should let him in.
“I started to like her, Jensen. Like, actually like her.”
I run a hand over my face, trying to rub the thought out of my skull. “And then I realised she has a boyfriend, and I just … shut down. Snapped. Pushed her away before I could make more of a fool of myself.”
I glance over to where she’s sitting. “I felt so damn stupid, because I haven’t felt this way in years, Jens, you know I haven’t.
And then I look at her, man. Look at her …
” I nod toward her without meaning to. “How could I not fall for that? … But I got distracted. Let myself want something I shouldn’t. And …”
Jensen laughs, interrupting my spiral with a smug shake of his head.
“You absolute idiot, Ford. Stormy doesn’t have a boyfriend.”
I frown.
“What?”
“She told me,” Jensen replies, leaning back. “We’ve talked a few times. It came up. Kind of avoided the subject when I asked about her ex. though, but definitely no boyfriend.”
I stare at him, his words sinking in.
No boyfriend.
But then … that message on her phone.
I scrub a hand down my face, the realisation pressing in.
“Even so … I need to apologise to her. Properly. She didn’t deserve any of that.”
Jensen smiles at me, quiet now.
I’ve been standoffish, short-tempered, and yeah, a dick.
But that’s not really me. Sure, I can seem that way, but it’s not the whole truth.
Stormy’s done nothing wrong. She’s her usual bright, lovely self, and I snapped at her like a bitter old bastard.
No excuse. I should make it up to her. Show her I’m not just this grumpy idiot who shuts people out the second things get complicated.
She deserves better. Hell, I want to be better.
I glance up just as Stormy heads this way toward the restroom, weaving through the crowd. She walks past, smiles at Jensen, then glances at me—a brief, polite smile. I can tell she’s unsure how to act around me now. I nod back, barely, heart thudding harder than I’d like.
Then I turn to Jensen.
“So … tell me what you know.”