Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 100853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
I hoped they were right. I didn’t like the idea of it either. Even knowing there must be some kind of guard or something—Hawk’s guys or West’s deputies or somebody—keeping an eye out to make sure Ford didn’t get hurt the next time this guy went after him.
More than just disliking Ford using himself as bait, I didn’t like him shutting me out. We’d had an agreement in the taproom that this—that we—were going to happen. He didn’t get to back out now.
I’d run these thoughts through my mind in dizzying circles for five days, and now I was done. Enough was enough. Before I dozed off, I set my alarm for 1:35 a.m., a few minutes before the time Ford usually got home when he closed the taproom. I’d planned to catch him in the hall, but I must have fallen back to sleep after I hit snooze. I jolted awake to the sound of knuckles rapping lightly on my door.
I opened the door, rubbing at my eyes. Ford stood there, his brows drawn together.
“Were you asleep? I saw the light under your door and thought you were up.”
“I was,” I said, shaking my head, trying to wake myself up enough to remember what I’d planned to say to him. “Come in.”
I closed the door behind him and turned, absorbing the sight of him. Exhaustion was all over him in the slump of his shoulders, the dark shadows under his eyes.
“Are you getting any sleep?” I asked.
“Enough,” he said.
“Doesn’t look like it.” I heard the rudeness in my tone, but couldn’t dial it back. He shouldn’t be punishing himself, but that was what this felt like. “You need tea,” I said. “Sit.” I tilted my head toward the armchair and ottoman in the little sitting area of my room.
“I don’t want tea,” he grumbled.
“You will once I brew it,” I said.
The water boiled as we stood there in silence. The electric kettle was fast, but not so fast that the quiet didn’t start to get awkward. I dunked the tea bag into the hot water, added some honey, and handed it to Ford.
“Give it a minute to steep,” I said. “I love these little coffee and tea stations Savannah put in all the rooms.”
“Except mine,” Ford said, finally sitting in the armchair.
I filled another teacup with hot water and dunked my own bag of tea, taking it to sit on the love seat catty-corner to the armchair Ford occupied. “You don’t have one? Why not?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Not everyone wants me here.”
“That doesn’t seem like Savannah, though. She’s always so thoughtful.”
“Savannah is loyal to Griffen and now Finn,” Ford said slowly. “And while they seem to have forgiven me for the past, not everyone is as kindhearted as my brothers. Savannah knows who I am, what I’ve done, and she knows how to hold a grudge.”
“I think it’s time you give me all the gory details you mentioned the other day,” I said, “because I don’t get it.”
Chapter Ten
PAIGE
“What don’t you get?” Ford asked, blowing on his steaming mug of tea.
“Anything,” I said. “Why did you say Griffen would kick you out before me? Why doesn’t Savannah want you here? And why do you seem to think you’re the villain?”
“I think I’m the villain,” Ford began, “because for most of this story, I have been.” He sipped at his tea, leaning back into the soft armchair. “Griffen and I were closer than brothers when we were kids. Despite the few years between us, we might as well have been twins. Other than our hair color, we looked alike, talked alike. We both wanted to grow up to run the Sawyer empire together. We were going to do it right—not be assholes like our father—while bringing endless wealth and glory to the Sawyer family.”
I could picture it exactly, even if I didn’t have the same experiences to draw on. Two little boys, big dreams.
Ford looked into his teacup and sighed. “My father was an expert manipulator. He liked nothing better than to set all of us against each other. He kept us isolated and desperate for his approval. But I can’t blame him for what happened. I was weak.” He rolled the mug between his palms, seeming to soak in the warmth as if he was frozen to the bone. “I hate admitting that.”
I wanted to reach out to him, to squeeze his hand. To hug him. To comfort. But we weren’t there yet, and I also didn’t want him to stop talking. I stayed where I was.
“Griffen was two years older and always just a little more of everything. More charming, smarter, a little better with girls, sports. He was a better shot. I was still pretty fucking good at everything I did, but never as good as Griffen. And my father noticed every time I fell short. It became a secret language between us—him acknowledging my inadequacies with the raise of an eyebrow or a stray comment—and I let him get to me until the brother I loved more than myself became my only benchmark. And then he became the enemy.” Ford shook his head and took a sip of tea. He stared into the mug for a long moment before his eyes rose to meet mine, the beautiful sea-green shadowed with guilt. “I thought if Griffen was out of the way, I could finally come first. I was twenty-one and so goddamn self-centered.”