Page 142 of Renegade Rift
“No more running.”
Ford’s eyes soften, and he reaches over and grabs a shirt from the pile of clean clothes at the end of the bed that I haven’t been able to break him of. “In case you want to FaceTime them so they can see you’re alright.”
I take the shirt and slip it on, tears wellingin my eyes.
I’m going to see my family.
Suddenly, I don’t feel ready.
As if reading my thoughts, Ford slides up next to me and wraps his arms around me. “I know you’re mad at me for keeping this from you, but I’m here if you need me.”
He presses a kiss to my temple and slides from the bed, slipping on a pair of boxers. “Do you want to use my phone or yours?”
“I can use mine.” I glance at the nightstand where my phone sits. I might have a new number, but my mom’s number is still programmed as one of the saved shortcuts. It felt wrong not to, just in case anything happened to me.
“Okay.” Ford grabs his bag from the floor and his suit from the closet. “I’ll check in before I leave.”
“I can go to my roo?—”
“It’s fine, Juliet.” He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I like the idea of my bed being the last place I see you before I leave.”
My heart stutters, torn between the need to call my parents and spending what little time we have left hashing things out with Ford. At the same time, I’m not sure I’m ready to say all the things I need to say to him. Not after the bomb dropped this morning.
I’m still falling for him.
Hell, I’ve already fallen for him.
But I also know I need space to think. I want to get all my ducks in a row with my parents, and figure out how I feel about the article so that when he gets home, I can say with my full chest what comes next for us.
“You’re gone for six days, right?”
Ford nods. “Three in Detroit. Three In Philly.”
“Okay,” I say, settling on a plan. “We’ll talk when you get back then.”
“I’m not sure I can go six days without talking to you,” Ford admits, wearing his heart on his sleeve. I open my mouth to protest, and he lifts a hand, stopping me. “But I can settle for texts. I just need to know you’re alive, and eating, and not suffering in bed because of a flare-up.”
I understand. The thought of not talking to him when he has become the person I turn to is a little unnerving. And while I think the space will be good, I think some check-ins would be nice. “I promise to text you.”
“Thank you.”
Awkwardness lingers between us until he takes his first step toward the door. Then it’s too much. The unyielding connection between us pulls tight, and I find myself jumping from the bed and racing for him.
He doesn’t think twice, scooping me up in his arms and nestling his nose in the crook of my neck. “I love you, Juliet.”
I inhale the salt and musk on his skin, committing it to memory before he slowly sets me down.
I don’t return the sentiments.
I can’t
Not until I’ve talked with my parents and make sure my heart is where it needs to be.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
PAIGE: Please tell me you’re ignoring the continuous bullshit I keep finding that asinine sports publication.
ETTA: That’s a big word for you before noon.
