Page 47 of Now to Forever (Life on the Ledge Duet #2)

She scoffs, but her brown eyes reek of scared shitlessness. My favorite.

Her eyes roam from my boots to my bare shoulder. “And—and who are you?”

“I’m the one that will ruin your pitiful little lives if you ever say anything about Wren Callahan, her combat boots, or any boy she chooses to look at.

If she shits in the middle of the hall at school, you will tell her it smells delicious, scoop it up with your fingers, and swallow it down your rotten throats. Got it?”

Two teenage mouths gape at me and my smile widens. “I’m sorry—what was that?”

“G-g-got it,” the brunette says.

“Good girls. Now run along and get some cider. Oh! And do tell your mom I say hello.” I shouldn’t, but: “And Ford’s still mine.”

Without hesitating, they scurry like scrawny mice from a hungry cat. Through the crowd, they stop next to dear Jessicunt. She scowls at me when I wave, too-big smile on my face.

“Well, well,” a female voice says from next to me. Charlene. “You always have had quite the way with words. You could have been a poet, Scotty.”

Fuckity-fuck-fuck.

The damage is done, so I simply shrug my bare shoulder, resigned to the fact this woman will hate me forever. “You called it, some things never change, Mrs. Callahan.”

“Charlene,” she corrects.

My eyes widen, but I repeat, “Charlene.”

Her lips twitch as she looks to the Letts girl then back to me, something on her timeless face like amusement. I brace for the impact of whatever she’s about to say, but it in no way prepares me. “I always admired you.”

My head snaps toward her so fast I nearly give myself whiplash.

She chuckles. “I know, I know. Compared to your mother you probably think I’m the most uptight woman in the world. I was raised by Southern Baptists,” she says, adjusting the cuff of her sweater. “Can’t blame me for turning out so good.”

A joke?

I’m slack-jawed, stunned to silence, and she’s . . . smiling ?

“Anyway, you just said things that needed to be said, no matter what they were. Just barfed it all out.” She makes a puking gesture with her hands that makes my eyes double in size. “Consequences be damned.”

“Yes,” I finally croak out. “That does seem to be my strong suit.”

She chuckles softly again, and there’s an undeniable warmth in her eyes as she rubs a palm on my back.

“You would have made quite a mother, Scotty.”

The world stops with a scratch of a record, and we stand there, sharing a million words without saying a single one in the middle of the fall-themed chaos. I’ve always assumed she knew, but now I know she did.

Ford and Earl carry a stack of pies across the tent from us.

“You never told him,” I say.

“Wasn’t my place. He left for the same reason you stayed.

I figured you had your reasons. Everything that happened with your brother—” She pauses, look in her eyes like she’s somewhere twenty years ago, but a rawness in her voice like it all happened yesterday.

“It was hard for Ford. Calling the cops. Finding him the way he did.” She flicks a smile and wave to someone who passes by.

We both look at Ford, now laughing with jugs of cider in his hands.

“But he had to leave so he could come back.”

I let her words sink in; they aren’t new, but coming from her, they hit different. Harder.

A woman calls her name, and she holds up a finger to buy another minute .

“I never left,” I say, more to myself than her. “He left and came back good, and I . . .”

She squeezes my arm, the unexpected contact making me flinch. “Scotty,” she says, her tone firm yet warm, “there are a million ways to be good.”

I nearly collapse.

“Mama,” Ford says, stepping next to us and slipping his hands around my waist. “Stop trying to scare off my date.”

Charlene lifts her chin, but her eyes stayed locked on mine. “Wouldn’t dream of it, darling.”

With a squeeze of his bicep, she disappears into the crowd, leaving me shell-shocked and stripped bare.

Ford spins me to face him, handsome smile on his face as the strings of lights make his eyes shine like two balls of blue fire. “I’ve been a bad boyfriend.”

“The worst one I’ve ever had,” I say, wrapping my arms around his neck. “I was starting to have second thoughts about this whole thing.”

“Not allowed.” He kisses my bare shoulder then looks at me, expression turning more serious. “What’s wrong?”

Your mother just punched me in the throat with her words.

Through the crowd, I spot Charlene standing with a small group of women. Her eyes meet mine before she laughs at something they say and looks back to them.

“Nothing,” I tell him. “Being around so many live bodies is a shock to my nervous system.”

His lips twitch. “You’re nervous. ”

“No,” I argue.

“Yes.”

“Fine,” I relent with a sigh, his palms moving across my back. “A little.”

He chuckles, tilting my chin to look at him. “It’s me, Scotty. It’s us. We’re old news, really. Half the people in this tent have already seen us make out.”

At this, I laugh. He’s not wrong.

Without warning, he pulls me onto the hay-covered dance floor. The music is fast, but Ford moves us slow, dropping his forehead to mine. With one of his hands on my back and mine around his neck, our connected hands tuck between us.

I tense; he grips me tighter.

“Don’t get skittish on me, Viper.”

I glance from him to everyone around us, including Wren and Luke who are laughing as they dance.

It’s hard to breathe. I’m split between existing in this moment and knowing I don’t fit here at all.

It’s a cheesy scene in a movie that would make me audibly gag, but as much as I want to drop a match to the bales of hay and run, I want it to stretch on and on and on.

I need air.

I push back from Ford but he reads my panic, holding me tight and kissing me hard.

I freeze. His thumb pressed against my chin, he opens my mouth, and though it’s just barely, swipes his tongue along my lips.

The taste of cider on him holding me captive in the now.

He slips both hands into my hair and grips his fingers into my scalp, claiming my mouth as his in front of everyone in Ledger .

When someone lets out a loud whoop! from next to us, reminding us we are far from alone, we laugh into each other’s mouths, pulling apart. I tuck my chin to my shoulder, a rare feeling of shyness washing over me.

Ford’s chest rumbles with a laugh. “All I need to do is bring you out to a dance floor to quiet that tongue?”

I press my face against his shoulder to stifle my laugh. “You’re turning me soft, Golden Boy,” I say. “Too much wholesome behavior and baked goods.”

He pecks me on the cheek as the song ends, the lead singer leaning away from the mic and calling Ford’s name.

“Duty calls.” He picks up his cup of cider from a barrel-turned-table and steps onto the stage, positioning himself behind the microphone.

“Hey, everybody,” he starts, making the crowd fall silent.

“On behalf of my family and I, we want to thank y’all for coming out to this year’s Orchard Fest to support the farm and the community.

” He pauses for a soft applause. “Mama, how long have y’all been doing this out here?

” Across the tent, Charlene calls a number to him while holding up her fingers.

“Thirty-six years,” Ford says with a grin, causing another round of claps and yells to break out.

“We appreciate y’all. Thanks for that. I know the high school athletics department really appreciates you spending all your money.

” He gestures toward the athletes with his cup, and they give obnoxious yells, making everyone chuckle.

“Enjoy the night. Thank y’all again.” He lifts a hand in a wave, moves away from the mic, but seems to decide he’s not finished because he stops, cranes his neck so his mouth is behind the mic again, and gives me a devious grin.

“And, one important announcement I forgot to make”—I glare at him—“Scotty Armstrong is my girlfriend.”

The tent erupts with laughs and claps, and I mouth, I hate you to him. He grins, wide, and raises a cup of cider to the crowd, finishing it off with, “Thank y’all for coming out tonight. Have fun.” Then he steps off the stage, sets his cider down and pulls me to the center of the dance floor.

“You’re a damn asshole.”

He twirls me and pulls me back to him, our boots shuffling in the hay. “There’s the viper,” he says, his hand splayed across my back as we dance. “You know everyone here’s jealous of me, right?”

More people join the dance floor; I pinch my lips to hide my smile. “Liar.”

“I’m telling you.” He twirls me again, gripping me tight when he pulls me back in. “Every man wants to know what you’re hiding under this dress, and every woman wishes she looked half as good as you.”

I lift my chin to meet his eyes. “And what are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking you just made out with me in front of half the town and I’m going to be the one to peel that dress off as soon as we can convince everyone to eat all this damn pie.”

I laugh and it’s genuine. As unexpected as this whole night has been, I can’t wait for it to be just him and me, nothing in between.

At the end of the song, Wren’s next to Luke, holding hands. My heart bursts.

“She’s happy,” Ford says .

“She is.”

“Because of you,” he adds.

I scoff. “Hardly.”

He gives me a knowing look over the rim of his cup.

“Ford Callahan,” a woman’s voice shouts. “Didn’t even get my blessing.” June pounces toward us in a calf-length denim dress and boots, curly red hair down and framing her smiling face. “I’ve been looking for you!” She wraps me in a hug.

“Ford and I were just talking about how we should fuck in an apple tree,” I say with a grin.

She hugs Ford. “I’m sure Charlene would love that.”

She might.

Camp walks up, easy smile on his face, and hugs me.

“Scotty,” he says with a drawl, turning to shake Ford’s hand. “Makes sense it took the cops to drag you out to one of these things.”

“Oh, Campy,” I say with a grin. “You know me so well.”

When the next song starts to play—fast and filled with fiddles—it’s June pulling me onto the dance floor.

Hand in hand we dance, laughing and singing. “You’re happy,” she shouts over the music, bouncing to the beat like the mom she is. “And you have a boyfriend.”

I snort a laugh, putting my hands on her shoulders so we dance like middle schoolers. “And?”

She laughs as we sway. “And you’re about to have great sex I want to hear all about.”

“Maybe I’ll record it. ”

Her face twists. “Boundaries.”

Wren appears next to us, and we take her hands in ours. The three of us twirl like our only purpose in life is this very moment. And when my eyes meet with Ford’s, he smiles, looking at me like I’m worth it.

For the first time in my life, with my best friend at one hand, a kid that doesn’t belong to me in the other, and a man looking at me like he thinks I’m the best thing he’s ever laid eyes on, I don’t want a single thing to change. Not even the past.