That’s love.
I climb into bed and curl up against the soft sheets. I can hear the whispered murmurs down the hall and Cassie’s muffled crying as she tells them about talking to Chad. I hate that I’ve caused pain for those I love.
Especially Ford.
I want to feel his arms around me and hear his reassurance that everything is going to be okay.
To hear him whisper he loves me and to hold me while I cry.
I close my eyes and welcome the coolness of the sheets against my skin. When I open them, I stare out the window and find a sky full of stars. Bright and sparkly ones. I can’t help but smile. Because even though I’m alone and filled with a horrible sadness, I can’t help but feel like I’m not. That beneath these stars is a man gazing up at them and wishing he was by my side.
As I drift off to sleep, it’s with pictures of Ford accompanying me, of us together under those very stars, his arms wrapped firmly and protectively around me.
And only then do I feel like I’m truly home.
Chapter 29
Ford
She’s not answering her phone. It’s been hours since I’ve heard from her. I know she’s working, but it was a four-hour shift, and it was before then that I talked to her. She never goes this long without responding to my messages. I understand that I’m a little over the top when it comes to Shayne, but that woman is my heart. I can’t stop worrying about her. If I were there, close to her, I wouldn’t worry as much, at least that’s what I tell myself.
“I’m sure she’s fine,” Chad assures me from his bed across the room.
“She was supposed to be off work thirty minutes ago. It never takes her this long to call.”
“She’s probably staying over. She’s fine,” he says. He’s confident in his statement, but something in my gut tells me she’s not. I can’t explain it, but there is this churning of anxiety that tells me something else is going on. Is it her mother? Someone from town giving her shit again? I clench my fists at my sides as I pace across the room. I want more than anything to get her out of that town. That’s not fair to her, but damn, I hate that she’s there facing the scrutiny all on her own.
Dialing her number, I call her again. “Voice mail,” I mutter. I wait for her to tell me to leave a message and leave yet another. “Hey, Shay, baby, I’m starting to get worried. No, I am worried. You’re not replying to messages or answering your phone. Call me or reply, please. I love you,” I say, hitting End Call on the small screen.
“Something doesn’t feel right,” I tell Chad. “Seriously, man.”
“You miss her,” he says, sitting up in his bed. “That’s what this is. I get it, I do, but you can’t be blowing her up while she’s working. She doesn’t do that shit to you.”
“I know, but…” I rake my fingers over my shaved head. “This is different.”
“How do you know, Ford? You’re not there. You’re stressing yourself out. Look, man. I know that you love her. I get it, but you can’t drive yourself crazy like this.”
I nod, plopping down on my bed and resting my elbows on my knees. My phone is still gripped tightly in my hands as I wait for her call. “Come on, baby,” I murmur, willing her to call me.
“Come on, man, let’s play.” He tosses the PlayStation controller to me. “Distract yourself. She’s going to call.”
Nodding, I take the controller and play him in a game of Madden. He wins, but to be fair, my head’s not in it. In between games, I text her again with no reply. Chad beats my ass in the second game of Madden, and I’m done. I can’t focus.
“Let’s go grab something to eat.”
“I don’t know—” I start, and he pins me with a stare.
“You have your phone on you. You won’t miss her if she calls. You need to eat. Maybe getting out of this room will help.”
“Maybe,” I say, but I don’t believe it. I text her again as we’re walking out the door.
Me: I’m worried. Please reply or call me back. If you’re working, I get it. I just need to know that you’re okay. I love you.
Me: Chad and I are going to run out and grab something to eat, but I have my phone with me.
We go to the small mom-and-pop diner just off base. We both order bacon cheeseburgers and fries with chocolate shakes. I’m sure to keep my phone face up on the table, and the ringer is turned all the way up. I know it’s rude, but I can seem to find it in me to care.