Wild Love (Rose Hill, #1)(64)

But that sandwich was really good. And I’m so hungry.

I don’t recognize the number on the screen. Wondering if it might be a contractor, I answer and try not to sound pissy.

“Hello?”

“Rosie?”

I look down at the screen again, brows furrowing. “Cora?”

“Yeah.” She sighs the word like she’s exhausted.

“What’s wrong? Where are you?”

I’m already standing. Worried.

Cora drops her voice to a whisper. “I got in trouble at school.” I hear rustling against the receiver, like she’s holding a hand up to block the sound. “I think the school called Ford. But he’s just so uptight sometimes. And I just… Can you come?”

“Be there in ten.”

I hear her sigh of relief.

“But, Cora?”

“Yeah?”

“Ford might seem uptight to you, but you gotta know that underneath all that, he’s torturing himself over how to make everything right for you. With him, it’s all in the actions.”

“You think so?” There’s so much hope in her voice.

Even though she can’t see me, I nod as I head toward my car. “I know so.”





If I thought waiting for pickup outside was a blast from the past, walking through the halls of my old junior high school is a full immersion in nostalgia.

Extreme nostalgia. A nonconsensual walk down memory lane. I liked school, but I preferred socializing. None of my best memories are here. Though I do spy the exact locker that witnessed my very first kiss.

I head straight to the office. It’s familiar because I often had to walk from the school, across the field, and wait there for West to finish his detention while I chatted with the nice administrators.

When I round the corner, I see Ford is already here. Cora is sitting on a bench, her head dropped. A steady stream of tears roll down her face, and I immediately want to punch someone. With my thumb in the right position, because fool me once and all that.

I decide to hang back. Ford is crouched in front of her, his elbows slung over his knees as his hands dangle between them. Would I even be me if I didn’t take a moment to appreciate how good his dark-wash jeans look stretched tight over his round ass and muscular thighs? A flash of him between my legs, eyes burning, cheeks flushed, dick hard, hits me. Every time he catches his tongue between his lips, I melt. The way he concentrates on a person when they have his attention is like a drug. The way I felt with his eyes on me, his hands on me. There’s an intensity, an intentionality to everything he does.

I can see why people vie for his attention. It’s addictive. And I think I’ve been addicted to getting his attention since I was a kid.

I’m only just realizing I’ve had it all along.

Cora’s lips move, and I can hear the deep baritone of Ford’s voice as he responds. She looks so small, so crushed.

I know he’s uncertain of how to act around her, but god, I want to give him a shake right now.

Hug the girl, you stunted idiot!

When he finally reaches out and rubs her shoulder, she crumples. And he finally does it.

He tips forward so he’s kneeling before her, tall enough that it brings them face to face.

And then he hugs her.

He wraps his jean jacket-clad arms around his daughter and holds her while she sniffles against his arm.

My eyes water. This makes me want to cry much more than my drowned sandwich. I slide back around the corner to gather myself before facing them. I shouldn’t have been rubbernecking, and I definitely don’t want to walk over there and add my hormonal tears to their moment.

Because it is their moment.

I breathe deep and count to ten. I shimmy my shoulders, sniffle, and wipe at the corners of my eyes to make sure I haven’t sprung a leak.

Then I step back around the corner. Ford is still kneeling, now wiping the tears off Cora’s splotchy face, and it’s not my eyes that explode. It’s my ovaries.

“I don’t want you to worry about this,” he murmurs. “I’m always going to have your back, all right? Never question that.”

Fuck me, I should have stayed around the corner a bit longer.

Cora catches sight of me and cracks a wobbly smile, which draws Ford’s gaze back over his shoulder. His eyes widen, giving away his surprise at seeing me here.

Cora peeks back at him. “Sorry, I called her.”

Ford looks between us, and I can’t quite place his expression. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say it was longing.

I offer an awkward wave, followed by a high-pitched, “Hi.”

Remember me? The girl with the blue ink on her panties?

“Hey,” he replies, pushing to stand. And now he’s wearing an expression I recognize.

Relief.

He’s relieved I’m here and that lights a warm, gooey spark in my gut. I step forward, deciding it’s safest to keep my attention on Cora. But when Ford reaches over and his big palm rubs a circle on my lower back, I still shiver.

I forge ahead, crouching to hug the girl I’ve come to consider a friend. “Hi, my little storm cloud. How are you doing?”

She sniffs, but nods against my shoulder. “Better now.”

Now it’s my turn to sniff as I try to ease the ache in my chest. “Good. Who do I need to kill?”