Wild Love (Rose Hill, #1)(99)

I blink. Stricken by the rawness of what she’s telling me.

“That day? In that office? Stan stole my power. It was for a split second, and maybe it should have been easy to brush off, but it changed everything I worked for in my life.” She snaps her fingers, and I flinch. “Poof, gone. It was a stark look at how truly insignificant I was. It made me question my value.”

My throat aches. It contracts so tightly on itself that I’m unable to find my voice.

“That was my story to share. When I was good and ready. Or my secret to keep for however long I wanted. And I entrusted it to you.”

“Rosie—”

Her head shakes sharply. “No. I don’t want to hear it. I know what you were trying to do, I do. But Ford…” Her fingers comb through her wavy hair as she blinks away. “You guys aren’t teenagers with grudges against some small-town boy who dumped me anymore. The dynamic with us isn’t what it was when we were kids. And I know he’s your best friend, but if you and I are ever going to be anything, I need to be the one who comes first, Ford. I need that loyalty from you, even over him. I won’t settle for less.”

Her voice cracks, and she blinks her tears away. Head held high as she turns back toward her overnight bag, rifling through it for clothes.

I watch her dress in guilty silence, realizing what I’ve done. Undermined her trust and tried to play god. Pulling strings I have no business pulling, no matter how virtuous my cause or pure my intentions.

Keeping secrets I shouldn’t, while spilling the ones I should.

“Rosie, I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

She ignores me and, now dressed, continues packing her bag. And I just stand here in my boxers, the morning after the one night I had everything I could ever want, watching it all go up in smoke. And I’m the asshole who lit the match.

I finally give voice to what’s been turning my stomach for the past several minutes. “Are you coming with me?”

She straightens, duffel in hand, and walks straight up to me. “No. I am booking my own flight to Calgary, and then I hope Tabby or someone will pick me up and drive me back to Rose Hill.”

“But we could?—”

Her pointer finger jabs me in the chest, and her eyes sparkle with unshed tears as she goes toe-to-toe with me. “No. You are going to walk in there like Ford Grant Junior with your big swinging dick and World’s Hottest Billionaire title, and you are going to make this right. You break it, you buy it. Go be a team or whatever you little boys are calling this shit.”

My molars grind as I give her a firm nod. I’ll give her anything she wants to make this right.

“I’m going to go make sure my niece and nephew have someone to pick them up when their week at their mom’s place ends. And I hope to god Mia doesn’t have any second thoughts about sending them to a guy who flies off the handle while playing Dog the Bounty Hunter for kicks.”

I swallow and her eyes search my face. Anger flashes through them, and a plea lurks beneath it in those blue depths. “Cora’s end-of-school party is tomorrow.” It’s a silent command for me to be back with everything fixed. She grips my chin. “Make this right.”

With that, she turns and walks out of our hotel room. But not before calling back over her shoulder, “And also, I quit.”

Then the door clicks shut on me.





CHAPTER FORTY-TWO


FORD





Guilt has been my constant companion the entire flight into Vancouver. Rosie’s take on everything I have—my power, my privilege—hit me like a freight train.

The ultimate wake-up call. Because I don’t think a single other person in my life has ever laid it out like that. Willa is swayed by the ease of our upbringing, whether or not she realizes it. Our struggles are not the same as other people’s.

Struggles, yes. Because we all struggle. But it’s so much more nuanced than that.

And the more I think about it, the more I realize my dad was trying to teach me this exact lesson by not handing me the money for that ticket all those years ago. He could have afforded it. He could lose that hundred bucks in the wash and not notice it was missing.

But he wanted me to learn to notice it.

Instead, I found a workaround and carried on with my life. My education. My last name. I know I haven’t abused them or used them poorly, but I am guilty of being oblivious to the power they wield. The way they’ve set me up in life, even when it didn’t feel that way.

On the drive to the police station, the reality of Rosie’s words sinks in. I decide that I’m very comfortable with what I have and that I will use every tool at my disposal to make this right for West.

And I realize I owe him an apology. Because I do know better than to send him into this situation.

If West sees a cliff, he’s gonna jump off it. If he finds a horse no one can stay on, West is gonna ride it. And if he runs into someone who needs punching, West is gonna punch them.

That’s just him. And I unknowingly steered him into this.

I tug the glass doors to the station open and shake my head when I round the corner and see him having coffee with a cop at his desk. West’s hands are gesturing and he’s grinning as he tells the potbellied middle-aged man what appears to be a hilarious story.

The cop has one hand on his stomach, the other wrapped around a mug, and a wide grin spread under his gray mustache.