Chapter 50 Stormy
Stormy
Iclose my eyes, letting the warmth of Ford seep into me.
We stay like this for a while, wrapped in silence until the panic fades, and my body begins to settle.
Eventually, we shift, curling together beneath the covers.
His arm drapes around my waist, and my head rests against his chest. I can hear his heartbeat, steady, strong, grounding.
He shifts a little, and his fingers brush gently along my arm. Then he exhales a long sigh.
“I know this probably ain’t the right moment,” he begins, “but it’s been sitting in my chest for a while now.
And seeing you like that this morning …” He trails off, his thumb grazing my skin.
“I’ve never been good at this kinda talk,” he mutters, almost like he’s cursing himself.
“But I … I think I’m falling for you, Stormy. ”
I freeze, not out of fear, but out of anticipation.
“I’ve always put up walls,” he continues. “Big ones. Steel and stone and whatever else I could find. Because I didn’t want to be left again. Didn’t want to be heartbroken.”
He pauses, and I feel his chest rise and fall beneath me.
“But with you … I can’t help it. The walls just fall. Crash to the floor like dust. You do something to me, Stormy. Something I can’t explain.”
I lift my head, meeting his eyes in the dim light.
“I want to be the one who protects you,” he says. “Not because you need protecting—you’re strong as hell. But because I want to be there. If you ever need me.”
My throat tightens, and I reach up, brushing my fingers along his jaw.
“I think I’m falling for you, too,” I whisper. “I didn’t think I could. After … him. I didn’t even want to look at another man again. I was done.”
His eyes search mine, quiet and open.
“But you’re different,” I say. “So different. Everything you’ve done has been for me. The truck, the coconut water, the snacks, the lake, the guitar … even just showing up. You’ve made me feel seen. Safe. Wanted.”
I pause, letting the words settle between us.
“But it’s not just that,” I continue quietly. “It’s the little things, too.”
I glance at him, then down at his thumb stroking me.
“The way you drive with one hand on the wheel, but the other is ready to steady me. The way you rub the back of your neck when you’re nervous. The way you curse at inanimate objects when you’re working, like they’ve personally betrayed you.”
A small smile tugs at my mouth, but it fades just as quickly.
“How you care about everyone and everything. Especially those animals of yours. You talk to them like they’re family.”
I swallow with my heart thudding.
“And the way you keep trying. Even when it’s hard. Even when no one’s watching. You try to be the best version of yourself for the people you love.”
I look up at him again, eyes searching his.
“I’m learning to love those things. The quiet parts of you. The ones you don’t even realise you’re showing.”
He pulls me closer until his forehead is resting against mine, and I feel the warmth of him wrap around me like a promise.
“I’m scared,” I admit. “But I want this. I want you.”
He doesn’t hesitate.
“I want you too, Stormy. More than I’ve wanted anything in a long damn time.”
He reaches for my hand, lacing our fingers together. His thumb brushes over mine, slow and steady. And as we lie there, tangled in sheets and truth, I know something’s shifted.
The quiet stretches between us. His thumb still traces slow circles over mine, and I feel like I could stay in this moment forever.
I shift, just enough to meet his eyes.
“There’s something I’ve been meaning to say,” I murmur. “I’m … grateful. For you. For your family. For all of it.”
His brow furrows, just a little.
“You don’t have to thank me.”
“I do,” I reply, voice steady. “You guys didn’t have to let me in. Didn’t have to help me. But you did. And your mum, your sisters, Jensen … they’ve been so kind. So welcoming. I didn’t expect that. I didn’t expect any of this.”
He’s quiet for a beat, then he huffs a soft laugh.
“Kind and welcoming, huh? You sure you’re talking about me?”
I grin.
“Okay, fine. You were about as welcoming as a locked barn door.”
He groans, “Ouch.”
“Grumpy, suspicious, and about as chatty as a rock.”
He laughs, full and warm.
“Alright, alright. I get it. I sucked.”
“But you got better,” I say, smiling. “Thank you.”
He smirks.
“Guess I’m not completely hopeless, huh?” Then his voice drops, more serious. “I’m glad you’re here, Stormy. Really glad.”
I let out a breath, soft and shaky.
“I’ve never really had … this. A family that feels solid and safe.
Mine was always kind of fractured. My mum and sister were everything to me, but it was just the three of us, really.
And after they passed …” I pause, swallowing the ache.
“I didn’t think I’d ever feel part of something again.
Not like this. It means more than I can explain. ”
His thumb stills over mine, then resumes its slow circular caresses.
“You do belong,” he murmurs quietly. “They see it, and I see it.”
I blink against the sudden sting in my eyes, but I don’t look away.
He hesitates, then asks in a low voice, “I know about your mom and sister. But … do you mind if I ask what happened with your dad? Why don’t you see him anymore?”
There’s no pressure in his tone, just genuine interest. A space he’s holding open—if I want to step into it.
I glance away, my gaze catching the sunlight that’s fractured across the dressing table mirror, sharp and scattered. Then I look back at him. His face is open, soft, and waiting.
“He wasn’t a very nice man,” I say. “Not to me. Not to any of us.”
Ford doesn’t speak right away. He just nods like he’s giving me room.
“He could be cruel,” I continue. “Not always. There were moments when he wasn’t. When he almost felt like the dad that I wanted him to be. But they were rare, and they didn’t make up for the rest.”
Ford’s jaw tightens, and he reaches up, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear with a gentleness that contradicts the storm in his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” he apologises. “No one should have to grow up like that.”
I nod, but the ache in my chest tightens.
“I keep telling myself I’m better off without him. That cutting him out was the right thing to do. And I know it was. But sometimes … I still feel that ache. Not for him, exactly. Just for the idea of him. The version of a father I never had.”
Ford watches me, and I know that he sees the turmoil written across my face—the guilt, the doubt, the worry that remains even when I know I’ve done the right thing. He exhales, like he’s trying to keep his own emotions in check before he speaks.
“Stormy, listen to me. You don’t owe him a damn thing. A father is supposed to protect, to love, and to lift you up—not tear you down and make you feel like you have to justify why you walked away … You did the right thing.”
I blink, eyes stinging.
“It’s just … now that Mum and my sister are gone, the absence is louder. I should have someone to lean on and someone to remind me I’m not alone.”
“You should,” he says softly. “And I hate that you didn’t.”
I glance down at our joined hands.
“I see other people with their dads, and it hits me. That warmth and bond should’ve been mine by default. But instead, I got him. Someone I had to escape from.”
Ford shifts, searching my eyes for something. Maybe some sign that I believe him.
“I know it’s hard. I know that no matter how much he hurt you, there’s still that part of you that wishes it had been different. And I get it, I really do. But you can’t punish yourself for wanting more. For wanting something that was never yours to have.”
I swallow hard.
“There’s guilt because he’s my dad. And even though I tell myself I don’t need him, some part of me still wonders, shouldn’t I have tried harder? Shouldn’t I have fought for that sliver of good that existed?”
Ford’s voice softens, but there’s a firm edge to it now,
“His behaviour isn’t something you can excuse, and it sure as hell isn’t something you should feel guilty for escaping. You did what you had to do, and that? That makes you strong. You don’t need him to survive this. You never did.”
I let out a shaky breath, the weight of his words settling deep in my chest.
“I think Sam took advantage of that pain,” I continue quietly. “After Mum and my sister died, I was broken. And he saw that. Used it. I didn’t realise it at the time, but I ended up with another man just like my dad.”
Ford’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t interrupt.
“He made me feel small and controlled. Like I owed him something just for staying. And I let it happen because I thought … maybe that’s just how love works. Maybe that’s all I deserved.”
Ford shakes his head.
“That’s not love, Stormy. That’s manipulation. And you didn’t deserve a damn bit of it.”
I blink hard, trying to keep the tears at bay.
“Thank you,” I whisper. “For saying that.”
He leans in, leaving a small, tender kiss on my temple.
“You’re not alone anymore, Stormy. Not while I’m here.