Ford
The room is dim, washed in the soft grey of early morning.
I’m half-asleep, drifting in that space between dreams and waking, when I feel Stormy shift beside me. At first, it’s a subtle twitch and a murmur. Then her breathing changes. It turns sharp and erratic, and her fingers clutch at the sheets, her body tense and trembling.
I blink awake, and my heart pounds as I turn towards her. She’s still asleep, but barely. Her face is twisted in panic, lips parted in a silent cry. She jerks suddenly, like she’s trying to escape something I can’t see.
“Stormy,” I whisper, already reaching for her. “Hey. You’re okay. I’ve got you.”
She flinches at my touch, a broken sound escaping her throat. Her eyes fly open, wild and unfocused, and for a second, just a second, I see it. The fear and the confusion. She doesn’t know where she is. Doesn’t know who she’s with. Her breath comes in gasps, her chest rising and falling like she’s drowning. I keep my voice low, steady.
“Stormy, it’s me. It’s Ford. You’re safe.”
She blinks, her gaze snapping to mine, and I watch the recognition flood in. Her whole body goes still, and then she crumples. Like the fight drains out of her all at once. I pull her into my arms, holding her tightly against my chest. She doesn’t speak—just buries her face in my neck, her fingers clutching at my skin like she needs proof I’m real.
“I’m here,” I whisper, rocking her gently. “You’re not alone. He’s not here. He can’t touch you.”
She shudders, a quiet sob escaping her lips, and I feel it like a knife to the gut. I hate that she still carries this. Hate that her sleep isn’t even safe.
I press a kiss to her hair, murmuring whatever I can think of to ground her.
“You’re with me. Just me. I’ve got you, baby. You’re okay.”
Her breathing starts to slow, and her grip loosens just a little. She’s still trembling, but she’s here. With me. I don’t ask what the dream was. I already know. And I won’t make her relive it. Instead, I hold her like I’ll never let go. Because I won’t.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers, voice hoarse and fragile. “I didn’t mean to wake you. I didn’t mean to …” She cuts off, like the words are too heavy to carry.
I tighten my hold on her, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Don’t,” I say softly. “Don’t apologise for hurting.”
She’s quiet for a beat, then pulls back just enough to look at me. Her eyes are red-rimmed and her lashes damp. The vulnerability there nearly undoes me.
“I hate that it still gets to me,” she says. “That he still shows up in my dreams like he owns part of me … and his constant texts …”
Her voice cracks, and I see shame flicker across her face.
I cup her cheek, brushing my thumb gently beneath her eye.
“He doesn’t own anything,” I say, steady and sure. “Not your body. Notyour mind. Not your sleep.” I lean in, resting my forehead against hers. “You’re healing. That takes time. And I’m not going anywhere.”
She exhales, and I feel her lean into me again.
“I just … I don’t want to be too much,” she murmurs. “I don’t want you to regret this.”
I shake my head fiercely.
“Stormy, you could never be too much. You’re everything, remember? And I’ll take every part of you—nightmares and all.”
She closes her eyes, and a tear slips down her cheek. I kiss it away gently. Then I wrap her up again, holding her close as the morning light begins to creep through the window.
“I’ve got you,” I whisper. “Always.”
50
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.”
