Breathing out a small laugh, I say, “I’d imagine with how much you work, the only people you really talk to are your team, right?” He nods, but doesn’t look at me as he continues putting together one of the end tables. “And with your ex bein’ a firefighter too, it probably makes it either awkward or uncomfortable, or maybe both, to open up to your team about anything. Am I close?”
“Pretty much,” he mutters. “Well, that, and I’m their captain. Their superior. I struggle with feelin’ like it’s not appropriate for me to talk about my personal life with them. They don’t need to worry about me.”
“Yeah, but y’all are a family,” I point out. “Family leans on each other. Regardless, that’s why I’m probably the best guy to talk to about this.”
Ford’s nostrils flare as he exhales a heavy breath. “Nobody cheated,” he offers, his tone clipped. “We fought. A lot. And toward the end, they got pretty explosive more often than not.”
Swallowing thickly, I ask, “Like physical?”
He shakes his head, his jaw tight. “No, never anythin’ like that. Just…mean, I guess would be the right way to put it.”
Ford may be grumpy, but I can’t picture him beingmeanto anybody, especially someone he loves, so I have to assume he’s talking about Trent. The guyhasalways given me asshole, better-than-everyone vibes.
“How long did that go on for?” I ask. “Just the end?”
Clearing his throat, Ford tosses the Allen wrench on the floor and grabs his beer. After he finishes what’s left, he shakes his head. “It went on for quite a few years.” Then he laughsdryly. “Truth be told, if it weren’t for my therapist, I probably never would’ve left.”
I tilt my head to the side, my brows cinched. “Why do ya say that?”
“I loved him, to a fault.” His voice cracks, and he coughs to cover it up. “And I guess I just wanted him to love me back so much that I was willin’ to look the other way, or make excuses to myself for the rest of my life—it won’t always be this bad, he’s just stressed about work, about bills, about his mom’s sickness, then it turned into his mom just died, he needs me to be there for him—but that’s all they were. Excuses and lies.”
The air around us is tense. So thick and uncomfortable, it’s almost suffocating. Standing, I walk into the kitchen and grab a couple more beers. Back in the living room, I hand him one before sitting back down. “What finally did it?”
“Realizin’ how much Trent reminded me of my father,” he mutters.
A chill slithers down my spine. Ford’s only mentioned his dad a few times, but it’s not hard to deduce the guy was a shitty father, and probably a shitty man all around. “Damn…” I breathe, my throat tight. “That had to be a harrowing realization.”
He huffs. “You have no idea.”
“Sounds like you made the right choice.”
Nodding, Ford continues on one of the end tables while I work on the other, and the conversation fades after that. The vibe in here is tense, but not necessarily in a bad way. I feel like I have a better understanding of Ford, like he let me in on a small piece of him he tends to keep shaded. I like that, even if my heart aches a little for what he went through. And what that must’ve been like, living in a home with so much hostility and aggression after growing up in a home like that too.
It doesn’t take long for us to finish them both, and once we get them placed where he wants them, we move on to the dresser. We finish the pizza and kill the rest of the six-pack, and it’s not until we’re nearly done with the last piece of furniture that he speaks again.
“How’s growin’ up on the ranch been?” he asks, taking me by surprise. For the most part, it’s only ever been me asking any of the questions.
“Eh, it’s all I’ve really known,” I say. “There have been a few fleeting moments, all when I was younger, when I wondered what it’d be like to not continue the legacy.”
“And what would that look like?”
“Fuck, who knows.” I chuckle. “Maybe I would’ve been a lawyer.”
Ford snorts. “No, you wouldn’t.”
“Why the fuck not?” Amusement fills my tone. “Don’t think I got what it takes, Cap?”
“I’m sure you do,” he replies. “I’ve got no doubt that when you put your mind to somethin’, you get it. But you’re a cowboy; it’s in your blood. Anythin’ else, you wouldn’t be satisfied.” Glancing at me, he adds, “It’s the same with me and firefightin’.”
I tip my chin toward him. “You always know that’s what you wanted to be?”
“Pretty much.”
“Was anybody in your family a firefighter?”
He shakes his head. “One of my neighbors growing up was, and I remember always lookin’ up to him, thinkin’ he was so cool. A hero.”
A smile curls my lips, and I waggle my brows. “You’re the hero now.”
