My voice drops to a whisper.
“I’m just scared to believe in it. Scared to let myself hope.”
The silence stretches, but it’s not uncomfortable.
Ford’s thumb brushes gently across my knee as the truck slows, pulling up outside the cottage. The engine hums low for a moment before he turns it off.
“Let me walk you to your door,” he says softly, and before I can answer, he’s already climbing out.
He comes around to the passenger side and opens the door, reaching for my hand. I take it, and he helps me down from the truck like I’m something delicate, not fragile, but worth handling with care. His palm cups mine aswe walk up the path, and somewhere along the way, our fingers find each other. Intertwine. It’s quiet. Natural.
At the door, he stops and turns me gently to face him. The porch light casts a soft glow across his face, and his sparkling green eyes find mine with a steadiness that makes my heart ache.
“I understand,” he says. “And I don’t blame you for feeling this way. Not even a little.”
I swallow, a lump in my throat rising.
“Look,” he continues, voice low and sure, “I don’t know what this, what us looks like. But what I do know is, I can promise you I’d never hurt you the way he did. I’d never make you feel unsafe around me.” His thumb brushes across the back of my hand, grounding me. “What I do know,” he repeats, “is that I’d like to spend time with you. I want to get to know you, Stormy.”
My breath catches.
I nod slowly; eyes still locked with his.
“Okay,” I whisper. “I think I’d like that too.”
Ford’s expression softens, and he gives my hand a gentle squeeze.
“No rush or anything,” he says. “We can take this as slowly as you need. I mean that.”
I nod again, but something in his face shifts, like he’s holding something back. Like he’s debating whether to say more.
“I feel apprehensive too,” he admits, voice quieter now. “I know I’ve been … grumpy. Standoffish. I wasn’t trying to be cruel, I just …” He exhales, eyes dropping to our joined hands. “My past’s kind of tainted with people leaving. People I thought would stay.”
He pauses, and I feel what the admission costs him in the way his fingers tighten slightly around mine. “It’s the reason I kept trying to keep my distance from you,” he says. “I thought if I didn’t let myself get close, I wouldn’t have to feel it again. Wouldn’t have to risk it.”
He finally looks up at me, and there’s something raw and vulnerable in his eyes.
“But I couldn’t stay away,” he says. “You’re like a magnet, Stormy. I don’t know what it is, but no matter how much I told myself not to get involved … I kept finding myself drawn to you.”
My heart thuds, slow and heavy.
“I didn’t expect this,” he continues. “And I guess I’m scared too. But I want to try.”
I swallow. The ache in my chest softens into something warmer.
Ford watches me, his thumb still brushing softly across the back of my hand.
I take a quiet breath, then rise up onto my tiptoes. It’s just a soft kiss at first, a gentle press of my lips to his, tentative and light. When I pull back, I look at him. His eyes are already on mine, like he’s been waiting for me to make that move.
So, I reach up again and cup his jaw with both hands, kissing him once more. This time, it’s deeper. This time, it’s just us. His hands slide to my waist, anchoring me, and he kisses me back with quiet intensity, like he’s been holding back on me out of respect. The kiss builds slowly, heat curling between us, and then he presses me gently against the door.
I feel the weight of him, the warmth, the way his mouth moves against mine like he knows exactly what I need. The kiss deepens with slow hunger. It’s breathless and grounding all at once, and when he finally pulls back, I’m left dizzy with tingling lips and a thudding heart.
He looks at me for a moment, eyes searching mine, then leans in and presses a soft kiss to my forehead. It feels like a promise.
“I need to get back,” he says quietly. “Sunshine needs feeding through the night.”
I nod, still trying to catch my breath.
