I glance at Will, who’s now standing by the wrecked shelves, breathing hard. His face isn’t cold anymore, it’s flushed and wild, like the act of being stopped only made the fury settle deeper.
“This is what I get?” he spits. “After everything I’ve done?”
Ford doesn’t blink.
“What you just did was enough to undo all of it.”
His voice cuts clean, low, and lethal, as he turns to face Will.
Will doesn’t back down.
He sneers at Ford.
“You think you’re her saviour?” he laughs, sharp and jagged. “She’s been flirting with me for weeks. Leading me on. Playing both of us like it’s a game.” Then he turns on me. “She acts all sweet, but she’s nothing but a tease. A whore in disguise.”
The words hit like a slap, and I flinch. The sick twist of a tornado tears through my chest, hurt and devastation strewn behind like wreckage. They’re words I thought I’d buried, words I hoped I’d never hear again.
Ford freezes, his back tense, his fists clenched at his sides.
He turns towards me, just for a second, and I see the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes.
It slices through me. He’s wondering if it’s true.
My stomach drops.
But then something shifts, and his gaze hardens. He spins to face Will and takes a step forwards. His shoulders are taut, and his face is thunderous.
“Watch your mouth,” Ford snarls. “Don’t you dare speak to her like that.”
He takes another step with his fists flexing at his sides, and I lurch forwards, grabbing his arm.
“Ford, no,” I gasp, fingers gripping tight. “Please, don’t.”
Ford stops, breathing hard, the fury humming through his body like electricity. He looks back at me, and his jaw softens just enough.
Then Will scoffs, mutters something under his breath, and bolts. His shoulder slams into the doorframe as he disappears into the street. The door swings closed behind him, and Ford stands there, his chest heaving. I let go of his arm slowly, tears still wet on my cheeks, staring at the broken shelf on the floor.
Ford turns to me, his voice low.
“You’re safe now, alright?”
I nod, tears clouding my vision. But the ache under my skin says otherwise. Will’s grip still lingers like a bruise that hasn’t bloomed yet.
Ford reaches for me, and I flinch. Step back.
“No, please.”
The words spill out, jagged and frantic, my hands trembling as I raise them between us.
“I didn’t flirt with him,” I cry. “I swear I didn’t. Please believe me … I didn’t. I wasn’t … I wouldn’t …”
My voice breaks and keeps breaking. The sobs come fast now, sharp and breathless, panic clawing up through my chest like it wants out.
Ford pauses, his face calm but tight with concern, and then, slowly, he reaches again.
“Stormy …”
His hand finds my arm, light as a whisper.
