Page 31 of Renegade Rift
Instead of admitting more of my faults, I tamp down my wounded pride and nod. “Thank you for what you did.”
Ford shrugs in that cool kid kind of way. “What’s being a big shot baseball player if I can’t help family?”
My jaw drops, but I quickly snap it up. “Is that what we are?”
“If you want to be.”
I don’t even entertain the thought.
“And what if I want to pay you back for what you did?”
He shakes his head and lets out a hushed laugh. “I’d tell you family doesn’t work like that.”
Mine does. I can’t count the number of times my dad sat me down and impressed upon me the importance of honoring our commitments. He didn’t take handouts and worked from the ground up for every penny he has.
It hits me that maybe that’s one of the many underlying reasons I never left Tyler. It’s absolutely the reason I can’t let Ford pay the absurd amount of money his brother owed Saul.
I glance around the apartment, my brain scrambling for a solution that satisfies his need to help and my desire to feel like I don’t owe him my life. My eyes land on the pile of dishes in the sink.
“What if I help you keep this apartment organized?”
“I didn’t want you to organize it the first time.” Ford scoffs. “I like my apartment the way it is. Everything has a place.”
Exactly as I suspected it did.
“Does it?” I cross the living room to the coffee table and pick up one of the many stacks of papers. “How long will this sit here before it finds a home?”
“Probably until the next game night.”
“And what if—” A pile of colorful crystals catches my eye from below the space from where I picked up the papers.
Amethyst.
Rose quartz.
Tiger’s Eye.
“You collect crystals?”
Heat fills his cheeks and forces a knee jerk, “No.”
“Then what are?—”
“They’re nothing.” He rounds the coffee table and takes the papers from my hand, setting them back where they were. “How would you suggest I keep that more organized?”
I scan the room, coming back to the coffee table. “Under the table there’s a shelf. We could get you a basket that has file folders on the interior. That way, it’s easier for you to pull them out when you need them. Or maybe a rolling cart that has all of your…What kind of game night is this for?”
“Dungeons and Dragons.”
“Isn’t that a game for nerds?” I immediately clap my hands over my mouth as if they can take away the judgement in my tone.
Seriously, who am I to judge? I take my clothes off and clean for a living.
The right side of Ford’s mouth quirks up in a devilish smirk. “How do you know I’m not a closet nerd?”
“Maybe now you are. But the Ford I remember had posters of surfers in his locker, and the most I ever saw him read was the labels on his protein bars.”
Every part of him falls—lips, eyes, and shoulders. “We aren’t the same people we were in high school.”
