by Frankie Love
He is a real man, a mountain man. And he knows what he wants.
Right now, what he wants is me.
It makes me feel beautiful, to be so wanted. To be the person he can open up to, to give pieces of his heart to. He grinds his body against my own and the petals of my heart unfurl, opening to him. The soft grass may be beneath me, holding me up, but when Ford looks at me I swear he is holding pieces of me too.
He is holding my heart.
“Please,” I beg. “Make me come.”
Ford growls, rolling us over, and with his back on the grass, he holds my bouncing tits as I run my hands over his ladder of abs, so full of him.
“Oh, I’m so close… I’m oh, oh, ohhh,” I whimper, leaning low, my mouth on his. He thrusts deep and hard, finishing with a smile plastered on his handsome face.
“Good God, woman,” he laughs. “You make me feel like a king.”
I roll off him, naked and staring into the dark sky, a thousand stars twinkling above us. I feel so far from home… but exactly where I am supposed to be.
Nestling me close against his chest, he holds me in his arms, as we catch our breath. “Look,” he says, pointing.
“A shooting star,” I whisper. “Magic.” I kiss his chest, loving how solid he is beneath me.
The next morning, we go to town, needing food for the rest of the day. We’re only here another twenty-four hours, but last night we worked up an appetite.
“Where do your parents live?” I ask as we are leaving the grocery store, to-go cups of coffee in our hands.
“They’re here in town.” He gives me a sidelong glance. “Remember, we’re not close though.”
“Do you wish you were?”
He opens the passenger door of the truck and I climb in, resting the bag of groceries in my lap.
When he slides in the driver’s seat, I know I need to speak my mind. “I would give anything to have my mom in town.”
“You giving me a guilt trip, woman?”
“Yep,” I smirk, my eyebrows lifted. “You more than anyone should know how precious life is. I’d give anything to have my mom—”
Ford cuts me off. “I get it. I’m a jackass. I haven’t been pretending to be anything different.”
“Why are you so scared to let them in?”
He leans back into his head east, running a hand over his beard. “Mia, it’s been years like this. In a holding pattern. I pushed them away after Cedric died and never… I never let them back in. I’ve treated them like shit and they deserve better. I’ve let them down in a thousand ways.”
I reach for his hand, resting mine on top of his own, grounding him in place. “Ford, I’m so sorry you lost Cedric. But you pushing your parents away, it’s like they didn’t only lose their grandson, but they lost their son, too.”
Ford closes his eyes and I see a tear escape his eye. I reach up, brushing it away. We may be sitting in a parking lot of a grocery store, but at this moment it feels like we’re the only two people in the world.
“Shit, woman, you this hard on all the guys you date?”
I swallow. “I don’t date much. And maybe this is why. I don’t hold back, I say what I think. Maybe that scares you.”
“It doesn’t scare me, Mia, but it makes me wonder if I’m good enough for you. You’re wise beyond your years.”
“Shush. I’ve just had a hell of a year.”
“You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met.” His words are sincere, but they are hard to hear. Most of the time, I feel like I’m holding my life together by a thread.
He turns his head to face me, and maybe it’s just hard to see a grown man cry but I wonder if Ford is ready for something more than a fling. He has unresolved issues with his family and is still grieving the loss of his son.
As much as I care for him, the last thing I need is to have my heart broken.
Once we’re back at his place, we pack a lunch and head outside. The air is so fresh and crisp, and the early summer sun beats down on us.
“Can I see your workshop?” I ask.
“Sure,” he says. “Then we gotta head out, so we’re home before dark.”
“Why? What happens after dark?”
He laughs. “You know, bears? Wolves? Coyotes.”
“Really?” My eyes widen. “We were outside last night after dark.”
“Yeah, but we weren’t in the woods.” He lifts his eyebrows, pushing open the door of his shop. He grabs my hand and pulls me against him. “And you were screaming pretty loudly if I remember correctly. Probably scared any wild animals off.”
My shoulders shake as I laugh but Ford kisses me anyway. His hands run under my tank top and my skin tingles with his touch. My body has memorized him and knows how good it feels to be in his arms.
26
Mia
When we pull apart from our embrace, I try to focus on the here and now; to not get distracted with the unknowns between Ford and me.
“So, this is where the magic happens?” I ask, entering his workshop. The shop is filled to the brim. Massive sheets of metal, pieces in various stages of completion, so many tools, and in the far corner a desk piled with papers. “I thought my Post-it note system was bad,” I tease, walking over to the mess. “How do you manage this?”
“I don’t,” he says, laughing. “I’m an artist, remember, not a pencil pusher.”
I run my hands over the piles of mail and dusty files. “I think you need an assistant.”
At that, he really laughs. “Right, I can’t imagine someone willing to put up with my bullshit nine to five.”
I grin. “That’s probably true. Maybe you should work on your reputation, Mr. Mountain Manhattan.”
He grabs my hand. “Come on, let’s get out of here. I need a break from looking at work. That’s why I came here this weekend.”
“Deal. Besides, looking at that desk is giving me anxiety.”
“This is gonna be the best hike of your life,” he tells me, leading me back outside.
I laugh. “You do realize this is the only hike of my life, don’t you?”
He chuckles like he doesn’t believe me.
“I mean it,” I tell him, patting his shoulder as we wind past the hot tub and gazebo and move between the tree line, into the woods.
“You really never get outside?”
“I live in a concrete jungle, Ford. Central Park is as outdoorsy as I get.”
“Then you’re gonna love this.”
And he’s right. We hike for a few miles through thick pine trees, blue spruces, and Douglas firs. I only know the names because Ford is an excellent tour guide. The spongy crunch from layers of dead pine needles and twigs are underfoot, and the musty smell of moss fills my senses. The birds call out, squirrels chatter, and there are even footprints of cougars that remind me of how glad I am to have a strong mountain man with me, every step of the way.
The heavy cedar branches filter the sun and the fragrant smell of the old growth forest is refreshing, the wildflowers are blooming; while wild mint and herbs grow like weeds. The entire time, Ford is pointing things out to me. Mountain sagebrush. Wild rose blossoms. Rocky Mountain juniper.
“When did you learn all this?” I ask, the light dancing off the fern fronds and my eyes stretching up toward the tall trees rising from the Earth now brushing the sky. Nature’s own skyscrapers.
“Definitely not at art school,” he jokes. “I’ve lived out here a long time is all.”
“You went to art school?”
He nods. “Yeah. Crazy right?”
“Huh, maybe you are a renaissance man, after all.”
“I don’t know about that, but it does make me wonder if your sister would want a recommendation from me, for when she applies to college. I mean, I’m not saying I’m special or anything—”
“Shut up, stop being so humble. You have a piece in freaking Central Park, Ford. You are kind of a big deal.” I smile at his thoughtfulness. “And thanks, for the offer. I’ll let h
er know. I’m just hoping Tallie keeps her grades up. She’s gotta get a scholarship if college is even going to stay on the table. I’m not in a place to co-sign on a student loan.”
“Do you resent that?” he asks.
“What?”
“That you didn’t get to finish school.”
We slow down the pace, as we reach a fork in the trail. His question is direct, and it hits me right in the gut.
“I mean.” I bite my lip, not wanting to cry. The truth is, no one has asked me how I feel about my life spinning upside down the moment Mom died. I don’t expect Matty or Tallie to understand that or ask those kinds of questions. They are kids trying to get through each day, just like the rest of us.
But when Ford asks me the question, when he stops walking and looks me in the eye, when he cups my face, noticing the tears welling up in my eyes, I feel seen for the first time in so damn long.
“It’s okay, Mia. You can still finish school. You have time.”
I nod. “I hope so. There are no guarantees, is all.”
“I know,” he says, pulling me close. His arms wrap around me, holding me steady. “I know, Mia.”
I’m learning that Ford understands all about the fragility of life. How everything can change in the blink of an eye. How our best-made plans can all disappear with one wrong step. One accident.
“Look,” I gasp, pointing. He turns to look. There’s a monarch butterfly resting on a stalk of a wild rose. The wings flap ever so gently and when it takes off again, into the trees, I feel tears prick my eyes all over again.
At home, I feel so trapped in a cocoon I never asked for but am living in all the same. I want to fly high in the sky and here in these woods, I feel like I can breathe for the first time in so long.
“Wild and free,” Ford whispers, echoing my thoughts and I bury my face against his chest, crying for my mother and for the life I wanted and no longer have. For Ford’s son and his broken relationship with his parents. And for Matty and Tallie. My love for them is so deep, so real, so true. I’d do anything for them.
I’m caught up in the moment with Ford, but my life at home is calling. I feel it in my bones. And this talk just reminds me that I can’t have it all. Not now at least.
And as much as I’d like to take flight — shed my old skin and be free — I know I can’t. This weekend is a dream but I can’t live in a place of make-believe forever. Not when my siblings need me to be in the here and now.
I want a life with Ford but what I want doesn’t matter right now.
It’s going to hurt Ford the same way it is going to hurt me.
But it’s for the best, even if it’s going to slay us both.
Even though I wish everything were different, it’s not. And I need to go home and deal with the mess that is waiting for me there.
27
Ford
Damn, it feels good to be back in the woods, but I can’t wait to get to the city, so I can finish what I started. Then I can pack my bags to head home for good. This is where I belong: not a loud, dirty city, but a mountain with miles and miles of possibility.
After our hike yesterday, Mia and I made dinner together, grilling steaks and eating outside as the sun set. It was fucking paradise. Ideas are rolling in my head for new projects. I can’t wait to get back to the city and complete my commissioned piece, so I can get back home and start working on a new concept inspired, once more, by Mia. She loves butterflies, and I’m fucking falling in love with her. I want to make something remarkable and then tell her how I feel.
I wake up early. Mia’s conversation with me in the truck yesterday just one of the many things on my mind. While it’s hard to suck it up and apologize, I know this one matters if I truly want to move on with my life and open my heart up to love in new ways.
Before I leave town, I need to sit down and write a letter that is long overdue. Pulling out a pen and paper, I sit down on a stool at the kitchen island.
Dear Mom and Dad,
After Cedric died, my world shattered. He was the one thing in my life that kept me grounded, gave me roots. A reason to stay in one place.
With him gone, I retreated. I went away. Not off the mountain, but I buried myself in my work, kept everyone I loved at bay. And I’m sorry for that.
You deserve more. You lost Cedric, but in a lot of ways — all the ways that matter— you lost me too.
Forgive me. I know better now and will do better. I swear it.
All my love, your son,
Ford
I include information about where I’m staying in Manhattan and then I press a stamp to the envelope. It’s not a lot, but it’s a start.
Mia finds me in the kitchen, a sleepy smile on her face. “Coffee?” I ask.
She snorts. “You should know me better by now, Ford.”
I hand her a mug and she adds cream to the dark roast. “Sleep okay?”
“Yeah, I just started feeling a little anxious,” she says, shrugging before she takes a sip.
“About what?”
“I checked my email last night and Mr. Roller gave me the hard deadline of when we need to be moved out. And then Tallie forwarded me a message from her school where all the fees were listed for next year. It’s just a lot.”
“I could help,” I offer. “I wanted to wait for the right moment to mention it, but I could help get you guys a new place and—”
She raises her hand. “No way. Thanks, Ford. But, no way.”
“Why?”
She lifts an eyebrow. “Look, we’ve had a great time but… Ford, it’s been what? Six off and on weeks? And besides, I’m not asking for handouts. Especially not from a guy I don’t have a future with.”
I grip the edge of the counter. “You don’t see a future with me?”
She sighs, setting down her coffee. “Ford, there are a thousand reasons why this was a fling and nothing more. You are…” She looks at me as if the explanation was obvious. “You’re…”
“Falling in love with you.”
“What?” She looks shocked.
“You know it’s true. I’m fucking falling for you, Mia.”
She bites the side of her bottom lip, her big green eyes wide with surprise. I know she feels it, but when she speaks, she is fighting the one true thing we share.
“Ford, I’ve had a great time, but my life is in Manhattan. Yours is here.”
“So?”
“So, are you willing to pick up your life and move to the city you have been pretty damn vocal about hating? All for me? A twenty-two-year-old fuck who is taking care of two minors? No.”
“Let me make that choice,” I tell her, irritation inching up my throat. “It’s not fair for you to put words in my mouth.” I quickly feel myself getting downright pissed.
“Ford, don’t be insane,” she says, shaking her head. “You have a home here. A home you built with your own two hands. You belong on this mountain. I’d never ask you to leave, not after such a short time.”
“But I love you.”
She sighs, crossing her arms, fingers resting on her lips. “Ford, you love the idea of me. I’m different. I’m wounded and broken and maybe you like the idea of picking up my pieces and spending your money on putting my life back together, but I don’t need you to complete me.”
“Goddammit, Mia. I’m not a guy who is trying to mold you into—”
“Yet you call me your muse. What happens when I stop inspiring you?”
“Why can’t we just enjoy this for what it is?”
“Because when you offer to pay for my apartment it puts strings on this situation. And I have enough pressure on me as it is.”
I groan at her deduction of us. Of me. “Can’t you try and—”
She cuts me off again. “I’m so happy to have met you Ford, and I’m honored you let me into your life. But the timing is off, and we literally live in different worlds. I wish it were different. I wish you and I had a fighting chance, but we don’t. Not now. Not like this.”
I swallow the lump in my throat. “My love isn’t enough?”
She presses a hand on my chest. “I don’t know that I believe this is love, Ford.”
“It fucking feels like love,” I tell her, taking ahold of wrists, hating the idea of letting her go.
But knowing by the look in her dark green eyes that she’s already gone.
28
Mia
While Tahlia and I aren’t exactly one in the same, I’ve always felt that she respected me, but right now she’s looking at me as if I’m the biggest idiot she’s ever met.
“Stop looking at me with those judging eyes,” I tell her, pulling books off the shelf and sorting them into two piles. Keep or give away. It’s hard to let go of anything though, and my second pile is looking ridiculously small. I’m not a hoarder but a lifetime of memories is in the apartment. Every single thing seems to have a sentimental value.
“I just don’t get you. At all. I mean, Mia, he was the complete package.”
“Except our life is here and his is there, and not to mention… he’s not ready for love.” My chest aches at the memories. His cabin offered something I’ve never experienced before. Wide open spaces where possibilities are in front of me. Since I’ve returned to the apartment, I feel like the walls of my life are caving in on me.
But was it him who wasn’t ready for love? Or is it me?
The answer is practically emblazoned on my heart — scared to freaking death.
Tahlia is sorting through a pile of clothes. Trying on one article at a time, then looking in a full-length mirror, assessing its potential, and then groaning loudly. Maybe it’s a designer’s process but it’s grating at my nerves. “I could move in with Karis or something else. Something totally unexpected.” She flits her eyes around the room and I know there is more to the story.
“What are you talking about?”
“You know, if you wanted to like, ride off into the sunset.”
“I don’t want to go riding anywhere. Manhattan is my home.”
She waves her hands. “Sorry. It was just a suggestion.”
Mathias walks into the living room, a Lego ship in hand. “Look, isn’t the engine awesome?”
I raise my eyebrows, set down the books I’m holding. and ask him to show it to me.