Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 68243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 341(@200wpm)___ 273(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 341(@200wpm)___ 273(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
“You used to hate each other,” Banner said from his dark corner. “Are y’all sure?”
“Turns out, we love each other.” Ford shrugged. “Hate is there sometimes, too. But mostly love.”
I snorted, then wished I hadn’t when it made my head hurt.
“Why does my head hurt?” I moaned, bringing my hand up to my head.
Ford caught it before I could catch my IV on anything on the way up.
“Someone used some latex gloves on you, and they pumped you through with drugs after that,” he paused. “You were also shot in your thigh. But that probably hurts not so bad right now.”
I sighed, lifting my arm up to stare at the hives.
“Yeah,” I muttered. “Of course, they used latex gloves on me. Those will be there for days.”
“Well,” my mother muttered. “The good thing is you’re off for the next few days. You were informed that you could take the week off by your uncle Luke. So maybe by the time you get back to work, those’ll be gone.”
I shook my head. “I have a test tomorrow that I’m not missing.”
“Ashe…” Ford began, but I was already shaking my head.
“I’ll be fine.” I turned my eyes to the people in the room with me. “Why is everyone all looking at me like I’ve done something amusing?”
Ford sighed. “You were a chatty person when you were high on your pain meds. Let’s just leave it at that.”
And, for some reason, I trusted him.
I did just leave it at that.
Epilogue
Marry someone that doesn’t even flinch when your toenail hits them.
-Ashe’s secret thoughts
Ashe
Six years later
“Hey, can you pass me those toenail clippers?” I asked Ford.
Ford reached over absently, then handed them over without once looking away from the football game on the television.
He lifted the beer to his lips, then grimaced at the taste.
“Do you want a cold one?” I asked him.
He handed me the partially warm one, and I put it in the cupholder between us before getting up and fishing him a cold one out of the door of the fridge.
Walking back, I handed it over, carefully took a seat next to the baby that was asleep in his Boppy and proceeded to cut my toenails.
One rogue one went flying and landed on Ford’s lap.
He looked down, flicked it off with one finger, then tossed me a glare.
My lips twitched, and I went back to cutting my toenails.
One by one.
“I’m going to be finding those for a month,” he muttered before taking a sip of his beer.
We were currently hanging out in the living room, acting like we weren’t about to fall the fuck to sleep.
“It’s not like I can help where they go,” I said softly. “I cut them, and they just go flying. If I could say, hey, you toenail, I want you to go right there and not any further, I would. But I can’t. And it’s not like you haven’t done the same thing to me before.”
His lips quirked. “Yeah. But if that thing hits me in the face, I’m going to tickle the shit out of you.”
“Did you know that Lacy can’t have toe nail clippers where she’s at?” I asked. “They don’t even give her metal dinnerware. She has to eat using a plastic spork.”
Ford ignored me.
He hated talking about Lacy.
Even more, he hated that Lacy was now in a psychiatric facility and not a prison where she could rot.
I didn’t mind, honestly. With any luck, it would get her the help that she needed. Oh, and hopefully she stayed there for the rest of her life so my man could have peace of mind.
Though, the way it was going, I doubted that she’d ever see the outside of that place. The longer that Jeff, who luckily wised up and got the hell away from all the drama that was Lacy, stayed away, the worse that Lacy got. She was a mess, and apparently begged to see Jeff every single day.
At least, that was the update that I’d gotten this morning when I’d called for my twice yearly check on her.
The baby behind me started to squirm, so I finished up with my toenails, and then handed the clippers back to Ford before getting the baby that was seconds away from fussing.
Ford Junior, better known as FJ, was his father’s son.
He was impatient, demanding, and didn’t take no for an answer.
Honestly, it was easier to just give him what he wanted when he wanted it, otherwise he would never let you hear the end of it.
Sitting back in the chair, I cuddled FJ into my side and lifted my shirt, all the while I could feel Ford’s hot eyes on me.
“Did I tell you how hot it is seeing you feed our kid?” he teased.
I sighed and focused on the football game he was watching, trying not to have perverted thoughts about Ford while I was feeding his son.