The air cools with the loss of him, and a new kind of tension seems to arise. Ford digs through his pockets, searching for something. When he seemingly doesn’t find it, his attention diverts to a faint noise from the truck. He moves towards it, opening the passenger door, spotting his phone where it must have slipped out. He picks it up and his expression shifts, worry flashing across his face before he mutters, “I’ve gotta go.”
No explanation. No hesitation.
Just a hurried retreat.
I sit there, still gripping the guitar, overwhelmed and blinking at the space he left behind.
What just happened?
He’d looked at me like he was going to kiss me, like he wanted to kiss me. And I’d wanted it too. God, I’d wanted it. That thought alone stuns me almost as much as the emotional whiplash that followed. Was it the text? Was it me? I don’t know what I’m supposed to make of it. One minute I’m underwater with him, wrapped in heat and breathless quiet, the next, I’m left holding the guitar like an idiot while he disappears into the dust.
I don’t understand.
Not him. Not me. Not any of it.
Although … perhaps it’s safer this way.
I’m not ready, and I don’t know if I ever will be. Getting involved with someone was never part of the plan. I’ve worked so hard to stand on my own two feet, to rebuild without slipping back into old patterns or lettinganyone else define me.
I’ve fought too hard to untangle myself from past toxicity.
And yet … part of me feels hollow. Like I missed something I didn’t even know I was reaching for until it slipped away.
But this, whatever this is, I probably shouldn’t let it happen again.
Even if part of me wanted to.
Even if part of me still does.
Because I’ve come too far to unravel now.
22
Ford
Istand by the open door next to Harper as she cries in the back of my truck. Her knees are drawn up to her chest, arms curled around them, and her face buried deep. The quiet, broken sobs twist something sharp inside me.
I feel awful.
If I hadn’t been so caught up with what I could only describe as feelings for a woman I barely know, maybe I would’ve been here sooner.
Kit and Harper have had a fallout. A big one. Apparently, Kit told her, right in front of her friends, that he likes her as more than just a friend. And apparently, it didn’t go down very well.
She had been sitting outside school, tears running down her face waiting for me to answer the goddamn phone, waiting for me to show up, but I hadn’t. Not right away. Because I was too busy with Stormy. Too busy enjoying her company. Sharing one of my passions with her, something that's always been mine, private, and watching her light up as she fumbled through the chords.
I close my eyes, guilt eating me up.
When I finally arrived, Harper poured it all out between her sobs; how she hates Kit now, hates how he’s gone and ruined everything, hates that she loved his friendship, but now it feels like it's been ripped away.
She told me she ran, bolted the moment Kit confessed, because she didn’t know what to say, didn’t know what to do, and now all she can feel is regret.
She thinks it’s ruined. That there’s no going back.
And this, this is exactly what happens when people catch feelings—somebody always gets hurt.
Still … part of me can’t help but feel something else.
Because … I know Harper’s my sister, and I’ll always have her back, but damn. It must’ve taken guts for Kit to do what he did. To risk that kind of fallout, knowing it might cost him everything. It was brave of him.
