The warmth from before drains out of him, replaced by that familiar wall. So guarded, it’s like he’s already gone.
He takes a step back and I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. Because technically, he’s not wrong. There is a guy in my living room. Just not in the way he’s imagining.
“Can you two keep it down?” a voice calls from inside, groggy and annoyed.
A tall figure stumbles into view behind me, rubbing his eyes and yawning like he’s just crawled out of a cave. Jensen. Shirtless, hair sticking up in every direction, looking like he lost a fight with a blanket.
“Love the early morning drama, but could it be quieter?”
I see the tension ease from Ford’s shoulders, just slightly, when he realises who it is. His jaw unclenches and his stance softens.
Jensen squints at the blister pack in my hand, then reaches out and pinches it from my fingers like it’s his birthright.
“You’re a godsend,” he mutters to Ford, already popping the seal. “Seriously. I could kiss you.”
Ford grunts softly, almost amused.
“I’ll find you later,” Jensen adds, handing the packet back to me and turning back toward the couch. “Got the day off. Can help you out on the ranch if you need.”
Ford nods at him, mouth twitching.
“You offering to help, or just planning to supervise?”
Jensen flips him off lazily without turning around.
“I’m a delicate flower today. Handle me with care.”
Ford’s mouth is now as close to a smile as it’s ever been, but as he turns to leave, his eyes find mine again and his expression sobers. “Just … be more careful with your keys next time.”
I watch him walk away, boots crunching against the gravel, and close the door, pressing my back to it, the silence inside suddenly louder than it should be.
Footsteps creak on the stairs and Missy appears, wrapped in a blanket, hair wild, eyes squinting through sleep.
“Was that my brother I heard?”
From the couch, Jensen groans and flips onto his side.
“Yeah,” he mutters, voice thick with sleep. “And he’s got itbad.”
I blink.
“What?”
But Jensen’s already drifting off again, leaving the words hanging in the air like smoke.
15
Stormy
Missy perks up like Jensen's words have ignited a spark inside her. She blinks fast, blanket slipping off one shoulder.
“Wait … what are you talking about?” she says, nudging Jensen’s leg with her foot. “What do you mean he’s got it bad?”
I’m still standing by the door, keys in one hand, painkillers in the other, not sure what to say or where to put myself. My brain feels like it’s been wrung out and hung up to dry.
Jensen groans, rolls onto his back, and throws an arm over his eyes.
“Okay, okay,” he mutters, sitting up slowly like it’s costing him years off his life. “I heard the whole thing ...” He turns to me, eyes still bleary. “Sorry, I wasn’t eavesdropping. But you two weren’t exactly whispering.”
