“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 itsure 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.
51
Ford
It’s not like me to stay in bed this long, usually I’ve got the ranch on my mind before the sun’s even up. But today?
Today, Stormy’s all I’m thinking about.
I roped Kit into most of the chores since I told him I needed the morning off. Didn’t give a reason. Didn’t need to.
Stormy and I never bothered dressing after last night; we just drifted into sleep, wrapped in sweat and soft kisses. Her fingers trace the patterns of my tattoos.
I clear my throat. My voice is rough from sleep.
“We should probably get up.”
She hums, not moving.
“Yeah … we probably should.”
