Page 50 of A Sweet Destruction

I hated how much I wanted to know what.

“You get to pick,” he repeated, taking one, slow step toward me. Giving me the opportunity to step back. For some reason, I didn’t take it.

“You can either tell me how long you’ve been giving Sophie and the kids gifts or tell me whether the Bond has come back for you.”

“Since the beginning,” I said, not even taking a second to think about my response, just jumping at the least intimidating path as quickly as possible.

Panicked instincts were often wrong, a fact I was immediately reminded of when I saw Ford’s eyes flash with victory.

By answering his question about the gifts, I inadvertently answered his other question.

Ford nodded to himself, just one decisive duck of his chin. “Right. And why were you giving them gifts?”

My blinks stuttered. “Because it’s nice?”

Strangely, that seemed to be all the answer Ford needed. “Thank you for doing that. Luxuries are few and far between, especially for Sophie.”

He had to know I’d smuggled the necklace over. I favored Vir’s diamonds, but there was a lovely blue tint to those on Muli that I thought would compliment Sophie’s eyes.

I smiled, not at all forced. “She deserves it.”

Ford nodded in agreement.

Well, that was alright. Being honest didn’t light me on fire.

“Now, the Bond.”

Well, there went my commitment to honesty.

I turned again, facing the bathroom. “Can I at least shower before we have this conversation?"

It was late and I was exhausted and ever since Ford and I came tumbling out of the Bridge pressed together, I’d smelled like him.

Ford shrugged, but the move was careful, full of confidence. “I’ll be here.”

I made myself walk into the bathroom instead of trying to wipe that smug grin off his face. I’d never known him to be the type to tease and prod, but apparently I couldn’t trust anything anymore.

The shower was scalding hot, a poor attempt at calming nerves and washing the events of the day off me. The voice in my head asking repeatedly Where is Ford? in time with each breath made that difficult.

By the time I made it back into the cramped room, feeling just a hair better, Ford was sitting on the edge of his bed, hair wet from his own shower.

“Used Stevens’ shower,” he explained, jutting his chin towards the door and across the hallway.

My expression must have had a resounding why? plastered to it, because Ford added, “Didn’t trust you not to run off.”

Stop. That was not funny. The muscles in my cheeks didn’t listen, tightening with the whisper of a smile anyway.

Enough that Ford caught it, the right side of his lip kicking up in a small smirk. It used to be his left, but his scar made it difficult, so he’d started favoring the right.

The second the thought passed through my mind, I was assaulted with a wave of primal anger, the Bond catching wind of Ford’s injury and what had caused it. It never had time to process it, silenced hours after I’d dragged Ford back into camp, and it was reacting like everything had just happened.

Not something best left five years in the past.

Ford immediately sensed my change in demeanor, the tightness that locked up my muscles again. He stared at me for an uncomfortable beat, long enough that I reached for a strand of my hair under crossed arms, twisting it around my finger.

Again, Ford noticed, eyes dropping. My arms fell to my side a second later, panic suffusing my limbs. God, how I wanted to run away from this.

“I’m not trying to make anything difficult,” Ford said, voice edged with something forlorn. “But we need to be able to talk about this. If the Bond is present for both of us, we need to address it. Especially with…” He didn’t need to finish that sentence, we both knew what was at stake.