Damion snorts. “Sterling, it could be a hundred years and you still won’t be over him. He won’t be over you either, apparently. Maybe you should go and visit him, talk to him?”
“Do you think he’d slam the door in my face? He wouldn’t even look at me tonight. He actually ditched all of his friends, didn’t even say goodbye.”
“What’d they say?”
Pressing my lips together, I roll them around as I think about what they said. Nothing. “They said absolutely nothing. They continued to just socialize as if nothing had happened, and they were really nice to me.”
“Some of them you’ve known from back then too, right?”
“Two of them were groomsmen,” I whisper.
“If Ford hated you, they’d feel the same way, girl. He doesn’t hate you. I’m telling you. Get in your car, drive out to his ranch, and mount that cowboy.”
“Oh my God.” I giggle.
We spend the next few minutes laughing, then I let him get back to his evening and I go back to staring at the ceiling, wondering if Damion is right. Maybe Ford doesn’t hate me as much as I think that he does.
Though I’m not sure how he couldn’t. I literally ran from him, on our wedding day, while everyone we knew watched and I refused to ever talk to him again. I wasn’t even mature enough to talk to him about how I was feeling.
I would hate me.
FORD
Driving down the road and up to my place, I pause at the sight in front of my gate. After yesterday and the complete clusterfuck that it was, I didn’t plan on ever seeing her again, but here she is, in the flesh.
Stephanie and her fancy black sedan are next to my gate. She’s standing at the side of her car, her ass leaning against the hood as she watches my truck approach. Today, I needed to breathe and pick up supplies for the fence in town.
I chose to take my dad’s 1970 Ford F-250 4x4. I was feeling nostalgic, but right about now I’m regretting my choice.
This truck was my daddy’s who handed it down to me.
This truck is what I drove Stevie in on our first date, we lost our virginity to one another in the bed of this pickup truck. I took her to prom in it. Everything that happened in our lives, this truck was involved somehow.
I even drove this truck out to LA to see her, to see what her dream was, what she wanted for her life that didn’t include me. After I found her, saw how happy she was, I brought this truck back home.
Pulling up to the gate, I try to shake off all of the bad memories and the good. Climbing out of the truck, I make my way over to her. I’m wearing my sunglasses and an old dirty ball cap that I threw on, along with dirty jeans and a dirtier navy-blue t-shirt. I’m sure that I look absolutely nothing like the men she’s used to, and I’m not sure why I even care—I shouldn’t.
“Stevie,” I murmur as I make my way toward her.
She’s dressed in tight-fitting jeans and a silky-looking button-up blouse, her blonde hair is pulled up into a high ponytail with large framed sunglasses pointed directly at me.
“I wasn’t sure if you were home, you have this place pretty locked up,” she points out.
Jerking my chin toward the gate, I walk past her, inhaling too deeply and getting a whiff of her expensive, sexy as fuck, perfume. Reaching for the padlock, I tug on it and unwind the chain.
“Ain’t locked,” I mutter. “Mostly just to keep the animals inside.”
“Can I talk to you, not out here in the heat?” she asks, her voice sounding unsure.
Turning to look back at her from over my shoulder, I watch for a moment before I answer her. “Can’t take that car down the road,” I state.
“Why?”
Pushing the gate open, I jerk my chin toward the truck as I walk to the driver’s side. “I don’t maintain it, you’ll fuck the whole underside of the car up, probably get it stuck. Jump in, I’ll drive you down there. I gotta get this shit unloaded and the sunlight’s wastin’.”
Climbing into the pickup, I shift it into gear as I wait for her to get inside. I try not to watch her, but I fail. Shifting my gaze to the side, but I keep my head facing forward as she climbs up inside.