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CHAPTER THREE

JULIET

My name.

I haven’t heard it in almost a year. Not since I disappeared.

It’s beautiful, in an almost depraved and desperate kind of way. My mind wants to capture the way it rolls off his tongue and horde the nostalgia that comes with it. The happy memories before life came along and tainted the syllables.

I always thought it would be my mom or dad, or maybe my brothers that would be the first to call me by it when we finally were reunited.

That’s assuming they still want to see me.

But that’s not the point.

The point is, I didn’t expect it to be Ford freaking McCoy who reinstated my being into existence.

Etta is strong. Julietta barely found a way to survive.

Damn it. I blink away the tears as panic grips my spine, replacing every ounce of confidence I possessed when I walked into Renegade Row.

I knew there was a possibility I could run into Tyler’s only surviving teammate. But it was a risk worth taking for the money. Plus, why would Bishop Lawson be slumming it on the Row when I’m pretty sure he has a penthouse on the upper east side.

Coming here today was supposed to be my first step toward my comeback era. It was meant to be the closure I needed, and easy money so I could pay off Tyler’s damn debt and forget every aspect of this team, this city, and how it ruined my life.

Of course, it couldn’t be that simple.

Of course, he had to be here.

Tyler dubbed his name a curse word in our home. Only uttered when he needed to remind me exactly whose fault it was that he turned out the way he had.

I am my father’s son, but I only became that because Ford and his bitch of a mother left me in that house alone with him.

I always knew it was an excuse. That even though nature versus nurture is a thing, there was a dark part of Tyler that grew every year we were married. It wasn’t all because of his abusive alcoholic father. Choices were made every day to embrace that way of life. But I loved him. I thought I could change him.

Just like the look on Ford’s face tells me he believes he can change me.

I should nip that look out of existence.

I should’ve looked at the roster before coming here.

I should’ve known.

How the heck could I have been so stupid?

“Get the fuck out.” Ford’s voice booms, deadly calm and eerily similar to his stepbrother’s.

It’s a shock to my senses, and my body reacts in kind. Covering my breast, I sink back against the counter. A whimper escapes when the granite edge cuts into my bare back, hard enough to break the skin. My head spins, trapped in the flashbacks of my mind, but instead of the concerned manin front of me, I see another brown-haired ball player.

My eyes snap shut, and I silently chant. It’s not him. It’s not him. It’s not him.

Not that Ford isn’t just as, if not more, pompous and arrogant. But he’s not Tyler.

Tyler’s dead.

I’m safe.

Mostly.

Still, my instincts take over and before I can think better of it, I whisper, “I-I’m sorry. I’ll go.”

“Shit.” Ford squats down so his midnight blue eyes align with mine. His hands wrap around my biceps and give a gentle squeeze. When he speaks again, it’s soft, almost desperate in a way I didn’t think possible. “Not you. Never you.”

The warmth of his hands disappears, and he turns, using his body to block me from the view of his teammates. “You three. Out. Now.”

“But—”

“I swear on all that’s fucking holy if you three don’t get out of my apartment in the next ten seconds, I’m going to make sure you can’t play in our game tonight.”

“Shit.” The one who hired me, Carson, exhales. “Is that really?”

No. There’s no way he knows who I am. Right? If I thought my heart was pounding before, it’s sprinting a marathon across my throat.

He can’t know.

None of them can.

It’s not safe.

In a manic moment of bravery, I peer around Ford’s broad form and meet the easy blue eyes of his teammate. Softened with pity, they tell me everything I need to know long before Ford confirms with a solemn, “It’s her.”

Seconds pass like hours as his teammates shuffle from their seats and exit the apartment. One of them stops in front of Ford and mutters, “If you need anything, hermano , you call.”

“ Gracias .”

His Spanish catches me off guard, but I don’t think too much about it. Mostly because all I can do is wonder how the hell I’m going to get myself out of this situation. They know who I am now. If any of them look too deep into where I’ve been or who I’m connected to now, I’m not sure I can protect them.

Slimy Saul doesn’t give a shit whose life he ruins as long as it translates to money.

Once the guys are gone, Ford tugs his shirt over his head, revealing broad, muscular shoulders. The kind that form shelves and dents as they move. All centered above an unreasonably tapered waist.

For a moment, I forget who it is in front of me and marvel at the sight. It’s been so long since I’ve even considered a man attractive. Not that I think—not that Ford is?—

Thankfully, I’m saved from my thoughts by a gruff grunt and a T-shirt being shoved over his shoulder. “Put this on.”

I stare at the faded black Renegades shirt. “I have a coat over there,” I protest. The last thing I want is to take anything from this man.

“Just take it, Jules.”

My stomach bottoms out and bile rises in my throat. Voice low and deadly, I snap, “Don’t call me that.”

“What?” He looks over his shoulders, his eyes firmly rooted on mine. Though where mine blaze with anger, his are filled with confusion.

“Don’t. Call me. That name.”

“Why? It’s your name.”

Maybe once it was a nickname of familiarity. But now it’s nothing more than the haunting name his brother used when he wanted my forgiveness. The name he used when he would crawl back into our bed and kiss my temple like he didn’t just tell me what a useless waste of space I was. The name he used when he was drunk and wanted me to strip—to show him what was his so we could pretend like I wasn’t an epic failure in his eyes. It’s the name he used to draw me back in.

And I went willingly.

Every. Single. Time.

But I’m not about to admit all that. Especially not to Ford.

Instead, I relax my shoulders and lift my chin. “My name is Etta.”

Etta is strong.

Etta fights for what she wants.

He openly scrutinizes my face, likely searching for answers he’s not going to find.

“Okay.” He nods, accepting my words. “Etta then. Will you please put on this shirt, so I can have a conversation with you and not accidentally slip and stare at your tits?” He fumbles over his words. “Not that they aren’t nice tits, I just—damn it, can you please put me out of my misery and put on the shirt?”

From what I remember, Ford was always put together. Calculated in his words. He was the captain of the baseball team. The guy every girl wanted. And he knew it. Which meant he never slipped. He was composed of charm and wit that would make any mother proud. To see him flustered is a real treat.

I take the shirt and slip it over my head. It’s big enough to fall just below the hem of my skirt.

“Thank you.” He sighs and finally turns to face me. “Now, you want to tell me where the hell you’ve been the last year, and why you were standing in my apartment topless?”

I give him a deadpan glare.

Is he serious? In what world does he think he gets to demand a damn thing from me?

“Where I’ve been is none of your damn business.” I start, stepping back until I can comfortably lean against the kitchen island. These heels might do wonders for my legs, but they aren’t exactly comfortable. “Second, I was here topless because that’s what I was hired to do.”

He meets my glare with one of his own, holding it for what feels like a lifetime before he drops his chin to his chest and runs a hand through the hair he keeps long on the top. “You’re right. It’s not technically any of my business. But you’re family, so humor me.”

“I’m not your anything, Mr. McCoy.”

That gets a dark chuckle out of him. He looks up through his long lashes, a hint of a grin tipping the right side of his lips. “It’s Mr. McCoy now, huh?”

I lean into my false confidence, reveling in the notion that sticking it to Ford is almost like sticking it to Tyler. “That’s your name, isn’t it?”

“I have never been Mr. McCoy.” He pauses and raises a brow. No doubt for dramatic effect. “McCoy, sure. Ford. Always.”

It takes everything I have to restrain rolling my eyes at his effortless prince charming vibes. Some things never change.

“But the title of Mr. McCoy is reserved for the man who gave me this name. Maybe someday I’ll live up to the moniker.”

Or maybe they do change. My lips part, and I’m not entirely sure what to make of his candor.

“But I suppose you’re right,” he presses on, almost as if he’s working through something for himself rather than for my sake. “You don’t know me, and I haven’t seen you in damn near twelve years. It’s just—you’ve become a ghost. No one has been able to find you. Your family?—”

“Leave my family out of this.” If there was any part of me that was considering giving him the benefit of the doubt, he doused it by bringing up my family.

“But—”

“No.” It’s the one line I won’t let him cross. My family is the only thing I still have that’s mine. The one thing I won’t let anyone take from me.

You’re assuming they’ll still want you after what you did.

My conscience gives life to my biggest fear. But I cut them off to protect them. They’ll understand. They have to. At least that’s what I keep telling myself.

“Let me help you, Ju—” His throat bobs. “Etta.”

“No.” I pick up the caddy of supplies at my feet and skirt around him, half expecting him to throw out a hand to stop me.

When he doesn’t, I keep going, and grabbing my coat off the back of the sofa, I head for the door. I’ve got my hand wrapped around the knob when he springs into action, crossing the space. His hand covers mine and gives a gentle squeeze.

In any other situation, alarms would sound, and it surprises me to find none where Ford is concerned. Then again, I don’t see him as a threat. Just a problem.

I tip my head back, actively ignoring the way his body dwarfs mine. A weird expression crosses his face, lips parting slightly and his deep blue eyes widening a bit before desperation settles in their depths.

“Can you at least tell me why you disappeared? Tell me you’re safe?”

I could lie. I could tell him again it’s none of his damn business, but there’s a part of me that wants him to understand what I’ve been through. I want him to hurt as much as I have these last eight months since the crash. Hell, the last five years of my marriage. I need him to know what his actions set in motion.

My lips edge into a sneer. “Not all of us can be you, Ford. Not all of us can escape the darkest parts of this world.”

He flinches and steps back like I just delivered an earth-shattering punch to his gut.

I might not believe Tyler became the monster he was because Ford helped his mother escape a terrible situation. But there’s no doubt that moment served as the catalyst for the darkest years of my life.

And Ford knows it too.

At least he has the decency to look remorseful.

* * *

Every ounce of confidence I had in that apartment falls away the moment I shut the door. Thankfully, the shaking doesn’t start until I’m in the elevator and I wrap my arms around my midsection to steady myself.

One step at a time.

I just need to get to the lobby.

Then out the door where Isaac is waiting for me in the car.

As one of the bodyguards for Bare Necessities, he’s required to go with me to the job and respond if I press the panic button in the bottom of my supply caddy. Thankfully, I’ve never needed to.

A weighted sigh escapes me when I reach the lobby, and it’s empty. My knees shake as I click my way across the tile, the blacked-out sedan already in view through the doors.

Isaac is out of the car the moment he sees me, rounding it, tight lines creasing his brow. The second I hit the balmy summer night air, he’s there pulling me into his arms.

“Are you alright?”

I bury my face in his chest, shaking my head back and forth. When I look up, his head swivels, checking to see if anyone followed me. His watery blue eyes meet mine, and I give him a reassuring nod.

There’s a reason he’s my favorite of all the bodyguards, with Phillip, his partner, being a close second. The two of them treat each of us girls like we’re their younger sisters. He knows and respects the work we do and protects us without a single ounce of judgment.

Isaac pushes me back far enough to look me over.

“I’m fine,” I reassure him. “I just want to get out of here.”

“Done.”

With a firm but gentle hand, he deposits me in the back seat and quickly heads to the front. The moment he closes the door, he hands me a bottle of water and switches the radio to my favorite station that plays only the classics. It’s the kind of music that has had the power to grip the hearts of millions and make them feel everything from elation to heartbreak.

Creedence Clearwater Revival fills the space between us, and a hint of a smile tugs at my lips as I think of Lodhi, waiting for me at home. Only I’m not sure even his cuddles will be enough to erase the rising panic in my soul.

Ford knows I’m still in the city. His teammates know. It’s only a matter of time before they come looking for me.

“Where would you like me to take you?” Isaac asks.

It’s on the tip of my tongue to say home to Lodhii , but the last thing I want is to be alone right now. “Can you drop me off at Paige’s?”

“You got it, E.”

The car jerks forward, but just before Isaac pulls away, I dare to look back through the glass doors of Renegade Row. Towering in the middle of the lobby is Ford, ragged breaths heaving his chest as his gaze connects with mine. There’s sorrow and pity in his eyes, but also something more. Something I don’t understand—hope.

At least one of us still knows what that feels like.