Chapter 16

Ford

I know I have to make things right with Haylee after our lovemaking the other night. Our passionate encounter just made it clear to me that we belong together, and I’m going to figure out how to pave the way toward our future. I’m just not sure how. I’ve never been one for the grand, romantic gesture, and I feel that’s what’s needed here since we spent eight years apart. Troy sure as hell isn’t going to be game for an assist, and neither is Nixon. My only hope is Reagan. I suck it up and walk over to his office, grabbing a bottle of water to take along.

“What’s up, buttercup?” Reagan doesn’t even lift his head as I slide into the chair across from him.

“What are you working on, some damn torte or something?” I’ll never understand his lawyering. I can’t think of anything duller, and I’d rather stick my head in a vice and turn the crank than pour over legalese all damn day.

“I’m going over a deposition, if you must know. Why are you here, interrupting my flow?” Even though he’s asking a pissy question, a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth as he works the bright yellow highlighter over the page. I’m sure he’s happy to be interrupted so he can pull his head out of his own ass for a few seconds.

“Woman troubles.”

He chuckles and leans back in his chair, the leather creaking as the wheels shift a couple of inches. “Woman plus trouble equals heartache. That’s my advice.”

“Haylee’s not speaking to me.”

He laughs outright. “Who could blame her? You’re a douche bag. Just up and admit it. Then, once you’ve got her on the hook, send her a birthday cake.”

I cross my legs and grimace. “It’s not her birthday. Last time I checked, the calendar still said that November was months away.”

“It doesn’t matter if it’s her birthday or not. It’s the thought that counts and women love chocolate. It solves just about everything. Worked for me.”

“Fat lot of good you are,” I say, wishing I could beam myself back into my office and forget this conversation ever took place. “I should have asked Nix. At least he has a wife. I’m starting to doubt you’ll ever make it to the altar. How can Taryn stand your warped sense of humor?”

He leans back in his chair with that smarmy grin still plastered on his face. “Oh, she loves my sense of humor just about as much as she loves my body,” he says, giving me a wink.

“So you’re not getting any, huh?”

I live to torment Reagan. As the older brother by only a little over a year, he’s the nearest to me in age. We’re close, but I’m a little more conservative than he is in spite of his buttoned-up profession and I never really got his practical jokes. Especially since I was often on the butt end of them. Like the time he added baking soda to the ketchup bottle at Perkins, and my entire burger, fries, Coke, and every article of clothing I had on became a red explosion of condiment.

“I’m getting it fast and furious. Just like the movie. Regular sex is good for the constitution, Ford. Lock that shit down.”

He smiles, and it brings me back to a time when life was simpler. I could get lost in the sentiment of that memory if I allow myself. I don’t. Besides, he’s right. I should lock that shit down because if I don’t do that, I’ll have to live with a lifetime of regret.

And blue balls.

“You’re right. I’ll call her.”

“Nope, don’t use the phone. People are all hiding behind their devices nowadays. This type of important discussion requires a face to face meeting. Just like if Haylee were suing you in a court of law for being a yellow-bellied coward. Did you know there are laws against leaving your common-law wife high and dry in thirty-eight states?”

“My common-law wife? Don’t you have to be together at least seven years before that statute kicks in?”

He rolls his eyes. “I was just kidding. Nevada’s not a common law state. But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t hightail your ass over to her place and eat some crow with a side helping of your pride. I’ll cover for you if Nix starts to go on the warpath. He’s been calmer lately, though, so I think you’re good. Marcella’s tamed him in a good way.”

“Agreed,” I say, standing and stretching out my back. I feel better already, and Reag’s correct in his assumptions and analysis. I need to have a face to face with Haylee in order to make things right.

I don’t even return to my office to grab my suit coat as it’s hotter than hell outside today. I wish I’d worn short sleeves, but Nix and I had a meeting with the gaming commission this morning, and he insisted I emulate him and appear to have a Gucci embossed stick up my own ass. Cruz says he has availability, so I opt to ride in the town car instead of driving myself. That way, if there’s a make-up that happens, I can suggest a ride down the strip which might include Haylee riding my cock in time to the tires rotating on the pavement.

Before I have my grumbling speech committed to memory, Cruz glides the vehicle to a stop in front of Haylee’s house. “I’ll wait,” he says, opening the door, and allowing me to jump out before he gets back inside the cab and into the air conditioning.

I make my way up the cracked sidewalk, careful to avoid the worst spots. It makes me worried that Haylee might be coming home late from work sometime in the dark and trip and hurtle into her own cactus shrubs. Funny how my mind only goes to Haylee coming home late because of work and not because of another man. The possibility of a real rival makes me see red.

There’s a chip in the front window of the house. I can see it behind the metal bars that keep criminals out and an angel inside. I wonder if she’d be pissed if I had someone come over and replace her windows with those new ones that can’t be broken into. Then, the bars could go. Hawk could even install a state of the art security system, and I’d never have to worry about her again. Even though the ultimate solution would be to have her move in with me or even move to a different house in a better neighborhood, I know how independent my girl is so I’m not going to suggest any of those options. She’d never go for it, especially not this early in the game.

Before I can lose my nerve, I lift my hand and knock.

“Hey,” she says, pulling the door open and stepping outside. It’s hot out here, and I had hoped she’d invite me in instead of forcing me to have this uncomfortable conversation outside in my long-sleeved shirt and dress slacks. I can hear the central air running. She’s wearing a green tank top that hugs her full breasts and cut-off denim shorts that barely hide her pussy from my hungry gaze. She looks good enough to eat.

“I need to talk to you,” I say hesitantly, feeling her out. She looks like she’s in a good enough mood, but she’s not as open as normal. I don’t feel like I can get away with stealing a kiss or even touching her on the arm. It’s almost like she’s closed for business, erecting walls around herself that weren’t there before.

“I need to talk to you too,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest and glancing back at the house. Does she fucking have someone else inside that she doesn’t want me to see? Dante? I fist my hands to keep from reaching for her and shaking her until she admits she’s got a guy in there.

“You first,” I say. If she’s going to tell me I don’t have a chance, then I’m not even going to speak my peace. What would be the point? A man does have his pride. I’d rather not have my ego trampled into the dirt today.

“I can’t see you again, Ford.” The words come out strained, and she clears her throat. “In fact, I can’t work for you, either. I’ve been lucky enough to find another position that’s even more lucrative than modeling for Strict Necessaire. I’m going to have to ask you to never contact me again.”

“What?” I hate the sound of my own voice and the way that it shakes speaking just that one syllable. I heard her correctly the first time, but I’m going to force her to repeat it. I know what I did eight years ago was terrible, leaving her like that, but did nothing between us before that mean anything to her? Is she really going to do this? My heart hammers in my chest, and the ache there is almost unbearable. I feel like I’m going to pass out.

She looks over my shoulder, unable to meet my eyes. “I can’t see you anymore. I’ve done a lot of soul searching. Since…since…”

“Since we made love.” I don’t call it having sex because that wasn’t what it was, and it shits all over the feelings we still have for each other. I’m not going to let her avoid them either. She’s going to explain what the fuck is going on if it’s the last thing I ever make her do. If she needs help, I’ll help her. If she needs me to grovel, I’ll hit my knees.

“You left me, Ford. You made a promise, and you broke it. I thought I could get over that, but I just can’t. I tried…really, I did. I’m sorry. And then I let you back in, you leave again.”

I stare at her face, searching for the tiniest indication that she’s bullshitting me with this. I knew it might happen. Hell, I deserve it. But deep in my soul, I always thought we’d find our way back to each other.

“How can you say that? I wanted you to get good sleep. We agreed I wouldn’t stay the night.”

Her body seems to grow bigger, and she’s trembling. I want to touch her so badly, but I don’t. “How can I say that? Are you kidding me? You promised me forever and apparently forever only lasts until high school graduation. I’m not sure we would have made it anyway since we were so young, but you did the unthinkable. You made it so we never even had a chance to find out. That’s the space where regret lives, Ford. And who wants to have that in the front of their mind for the rest of their lives? You did that, and I can’t forgive you. And I honestly can’t trust that you won’t run again if things get rough.”

I take a step toward her, considering my options. I could take her in my arms, discount everything she’s saying and let my body do the talking. Something scares me away again, and I back down, not liking myself one bit for it. I tell myself it’s because she deserves some space and that if it’s meant to be, she’ll come back to me. But it’s really probably because I’m a terrified piece of shit who never deserved that chance she’s talking about in the first place.

Haylee deserves to have a man who knows how to be a man and keep her heart safe. Someone like Nixon. Someone that’s not me.

My spirits sink, and my shoulders fall multiple inches. I’m sure I look like a man defeated. Without hope. That’s because I am.

“I understand,” I whisper, searching her face for any sign that she’s going to change her mind. “I guess I just hoped that you could find it in your heart to forgive me and give us another chance. I think we’re worth it.” I swallow hard. “I love you.”

She lifts her chin. “I don’t love you.”

Her eyes flutter closed, and I can’t even see her expression to know if she means it. Those words gut me in a way that might cause me to miss her for the rest of my life. At this point, I’m not sure I can move on from it.

Before I know what’s happening, my feet have started moving, and I’m striding down the sidewalk and toward the town car. Away from everything I’ve really ever wanted. I built a billion-dollar business from the ground up to try to give my life meaning after what I did. Even that didn’t hold a candle to the feeling I get when I’m with Haylee. My throat clamps shut, cutting off good airflow to my burning lungs. I don’t turn around even though every single cell in my body begs me to fight.

I do what I’m best at. I run.