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I know he can’t, and he knows thatIknow he can’t, but the way he straightens his spine and juts his jaw out tells me he’s not willing to let money get in the way of what he wants. I admire him for that. He’s tenacious.
“I’ll earn my membership. I’ll do whatever it takes. I just want to train, and get strong so that eventually when that cunt lifts a fist to me, he’ll never be able to do it again.”
“And your mum? Does she still hurt you too?
Ford’s shoulders drop, and his fingers lift to a spot on his right collar bone where two words are etched into his skin. Words I hadn’t noticed until now.
Bad Boy.
“Not since she pinned me to the floor and let that bastard tattoo these words into my skin when I was ten years old.”
“She did fucking what?!” I shout, jumping to my feet, ready to kill a bitch. I’m not sure why it’s that revelation that has my rage suddenly bubbling over, but it does nevertheless. Aren’t mothers supposed to want to protect their children, nurture them,lovethem?
Then I remember why Carter took me from my own mother at birth. She was a fucking headcase according to my dad, so I should know better. Being able to bear a child doesn’t automatically make you a good mother just like being called dad doesn’t make you a good father.
“Don’t worry about it,” Ford replies flippantly, pulling on his t-shirt.
He thinks I can’t hear the pain in his voice just because he can plaster on a fake smile, but I do. I recognise the disappointment and sadness in him because over the years I’ve worn the same damn mask he’s wearing right now. We are kindred spirits, him and me.
“So do we have a deal?” Ford asks, tying up his trainers and standing as he looks me dead in the eye.
I chew on the inside of my cheek, an old habit I thought I’d gotten rid of. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll give you a two week trial. You come here, have breakfast with me and Beast every morning at seven am sharp, then train for an hour, and in exchange you’ll fess up to why you’re really here at the end of those two weeks. After that, we’ll figure something out.”
“But I already told you why I’m here,” he replies, folding his arms across his chest defensively and dropping his gaze.
I stride over to him, chucking my finger under his chin and forcing him to look at me. “And we both know it’s only half the truth,” I say, daring him to object. He keeps his mouth shut, but he doesn’t deny it. “Two weeks. In that time you can decide whether you trust us enough to tell us the whole truth.”
“Us?” Ford asks.
“Me and Beast. We come as a package. I keep no secrets from him,” I say, but as soon as the words slip from my mouth I realise that’s a lie.
“Everyone has secrets,” Ford counters, a little too knowingly for my liking.
“That’s the deal. Take it or leave it.”
“I’ll take it,” Ford replies after a beat before striding from the changing room, leaving me pondering why I still haven’t told Beast about Christy.
