Chapter 34 Stormy
Stormy
That kiss.
Oh my god, that kiss.
He kissed me and it felt unreal, like it was the first time I’d ever been kissed, like really kissed. Not just lips on lips, but something deeper. Like he saw me. Like he meant it.
And I couldn’t hold back.
The way he’d kissed the scar on my lip … slowly and tenderly, as though he was trying to make up for everything I’d been through with Sam.
No one’s ever kissed me like that.
Sam was sweet, at first. But he never made me feel like this. Never made me feel wanted in the way Ford did tonight.
It wasn’t just about wanting. I could feel it. It wasn’t just a kiss. It was about care. About affection. About something deeper.
And that worries me.
What if Missy saw? What if she got upset and left?
What if I’ve messed everything up?
A hand reaches over, warm and steady.
Ford’s hand rests gently on my knee.
That’s the thing about him. He’s steady. Not just with me, but with everyone around him.
He’s the kind of man who checks in on his family without being asked. Fixes things before they break.
Loyal. Responsible. Quietly dependable in ways most people don’t even notice until they’re leaning on him.
He’s good with animals, compassionate, gentle, and patient. He understands what it means to be scared and still want to trust.
And beneath that grumpy exterior, he’s kind. Genuine. Thoughtful.
Hardworking to the bone.
He’s a safe place, even if he doesn’t know it.
These are things I’m learning to see more clearly. And that scares me. Because I’m starting to like this man.
Not just the way he looks at me, or the way he kissed the scar on my lip like it mattered.
But the way he is as a person.
And if Missy isn’t okay with this, if she saw us tonight and felt hurt or betrayed, then none of it can go anywhere.
I can’t be the reason this family breaks.
Even if part of me wants to believe Ford is the one who could help me heal.
“Hey,” he says, voice low. “Are you okay?”
I worry my bottom lip between my teeth, staring out at the dark stretch of road ahead. Ford’s hand still rests gently on my knee, but I don’t look at him. Not yet.
“I’m just …” The words stick in my throat, but I force them out. “I’m worried about Missy.”
His hand doesn’t move. He doesn’t speak. Just waits.
“She must have seen that,” I say, turning my head towards the passenger window, watching the fields blur past in the dusky glow. “And if she did … I don’t want her to be upset. She’s my friend, and I care about her. I don’t want things to get weird between us.”
I pause, releasing a heavy sigh. “You’re her brother, Ford. It’s not right.”
My fingers twist in my lap and my chest tightens. “I just … I don’t want to cause a problem … or to lose her over this.”
Ford squeezes my knee gently, and I finally look at him. “Stormy,” he says, voice low and sure, “you don’t have to worry about Missy. Trust me, she’ll be more than fine with it.”
I search his face, trying to believe him.
“She’ll be over the moon,” he adds, a small smile tugging at his mouth. “Like, borderline annoying about it, actually. She’s been rooting for this since before I even knew I felt anything for you.”
He pauses, like the words surprised him. His smile falters slightly, and he glances away, just for a second, like he’s trying to reel it back in.
“I mean,” he starts, clearing his throat, “I didn’t mean to make it sound like I’ve been … I don’t know. Planning this or something.”
But the admission is already out there, and it tentatively sits between us.
My brows lift as I’m caught off guard. Something flutters in my chest—something hopeful. But it’s also tangled with anxiety. With the memories of everything I’ve been through. With the way relationships have always turned out for me.
“You really think she won’t be upset?” I ask, needing to hear it again.
“I know she won’t,” he says. “She loves you. And she’s been waiting for me to stop being an idiot about you for weeks.”
I exhale, the tension loosening in my shoulders. My fingers relax in my lap, and I nod slowly. But I must still look uneasy, because Ford glances over at me again, his brow creasing.
“Is that all it is?” he asks gently. “Just Missy?”
I hesitate. My throat feels tight again.
My eyes drift to the rearview mirror, catching the soft sway of the pendant hanging there.
The small silver charm swings gently with the motion of the truck.
Back and forth. Back and forth. A metronome ticking through the silence.
And something about it makes me feel like I can’t keep this in.
If I don’t say it now, I’ll lose the moment—or worse, let him believe that everything is okay.
I take a breath, slow and shaky.
“No,” I admit, voice barely above a whisper. “It’s not just that.” I look down at my hands, then back out the window. “I didn’t come here looking for anything like this. I didn’t expect it. And now that it’s here … now that we’ve … kissed.” I swallow. “It scares me a little.”
Ford doesn’t speak right away. His hand stays on my knee like an anchor.
“I’ve been hurt before,” I say quietly. “And I know you’re not Sam.
I know that. But it’s hard not to feel like maybe I’m just …
waiting for something, at some point to happen.
” I glance at him, then away again. “I believe you’re a good man, Ford.
I really do. I see it, in your compassion, the way you show up. I see the good in you.”
My voice drops to a whisper.
“I’m just scared to believe in it. Scared to let myself hope.”
The silence stretches, but it’s not uncomfortable.
Ford’s thumb brushes gently across my knee as the truck slows, pulling up outside the cottage. The engine hums low for a moment before he turns it off.
“Let me walk you to your door,” he says softly, and before I can answer, he’s already climbing out.
He comes around to the passenger side and opens the door, reaching for my hand.
I take it, and he helps me down from the truck like I’m something delicate, not fragile, but worth handling with care.
His palm cups mine as we walk up the path, and somewhere along the way, our fingers find each other. Intertwine. It’s quiet. Natural.
At the door, he stops and turns me gently to face him. The porch light casts a soft glow across his face, and his sparkling green eyes find mine with a steadiness that makes my heart ache.
“I understand,” he says. “And I don’t blame you for feeling this way. Not even a little.”
I swallow, a lump in my throat rising.
“Look,” he continues, voice low and sure, “I don’t know what this, what us looks like.
But what I do know is, I can promise you I’d never hurt you the way he did.
I’d never make you feel unsafe around me.
” His thumb brushes across the back of my hand, grounding me.
“What I do know,” he repeats, “is that I’d like to spend time with you. I want to get to know you, Stormy.”
My breath catches.
I nod slowly; eyes still locked with his.
“Okay,” I whisper. “I think I’d like that too.”
Ford’s expression softens, and he gives my hand a gentle squeeze.
“No rush or anything,” he says. “We can take this as slowly as you need. I mean that.”
I nod again, but something in his face shifts, like he’s holding something back. Like he’s debating whether to say more.
“I feel apprehensive too,” he admits, voice quieter now. “I know I’ve been … grumpy. Standoffish. I wasn’t trying to be cruel, I just …” He exhales, eyes dropping to our joined hands. “My past’s kind of tainted with people leaving. People I thought would stay.”
He pauses, and I feel what the admission costs him in the way his fingers tighten slightly around mine. “It’s the reason I kept trying to keep my distance from you,” he says. “I thought if I didn’t let myself get close, I wouldn’t have to feel it again. Wouldn’t have to risk it.”
He finally looks up at me, and there’s something raw and vulnerable in his eyes.
“But I couldn’t stay away,” he says. “You’re like a magnet, Stormy. I don’t know what it is, but no matter how much I told myself not to get involved … I kept finding myself drawn to you.”
My heart thuds, slow and heavy.
“I didn’t expect this,” he continues. “And I guess I’m scared too. But I want to try.”
I swallow. The ache in my chest softens into something warmer.
Ford watches me, his thumb still brushing softly across the back of my hand.
I take a quiet breath, then rise up onto my tiptoes. It’s just a soft kiss at first, a gentle press of my lips to his, tentative and light. When I pull back, I look at him. His eyes are already on mine, like he’s been waiting for me to make that move.
So, I reach up again and cup his jaw with both hands, kissing him once more.
This time, it’s deeper. This time, it’s just us.
His hands slide to my waist, anchoring me, and he kisses me back with quiet intensity, like he’s been holding back on me out of respect.
The kiss builds slowly, heat curling between us, and then he presses me gently against the door.
I feel the weight of him, the warmth, the way his mouth moves against mine like he knows exactly what I need. The kiss deepens with slow hunger. It’s breathless and grounding all at once, and when he finally pulls back, I’m left dizzy with tingling lips and a thudding heart.
He looks at me for a moment, eyes searching mine, then leans in and presses a soft kiss to my forehead. It feels like a promise.
“I need to get back,” he says quietly. “Sunshine needs feeding through the night.”
I nod, still trying to catch my breath.
“But,” he adds, his voice low and certain, “I’d really like to take you out tomorrow. If you’d like that?”
I smile, heart fluttering.
“I’d like that.”
He smiles a quiet, dimpled grin that feels like it’s just for me, and then he steps back, letting his hands slip from my waist.
“Goodnight, Stormy,” he says.
“Goodnight, Ford.”
And then he’s gone, walking back down the path, leaving me standing at my door with my heart still racing and the taste of him lingering on my lips.