Page 1 of What I Should Have Felt (Anchors and Eagles #4)

FORD

E verything and nothing was the same.

Fifteen years wasn’t an insignificant amount of time to be away, I knew that, but I’d thought more would’ve changed.

The trees were only maybe a smidge taller, denser.

But the groan of bark, the ripple of the swamp behind the house all sounded the same.

In front of me, the door to my childhood home was exactly how I remembered it.

With white paint peeling from the corners and the brass knob dull and smudged, I stared at the final obstacle in my path.

Fear hadn’t driven me to leave, but it certainly had kept me away.

Fear for what they would think if I ever returned.

Fear for how betrayed my mother must have felt, and likely still felt. Fear.

An emotion I’d become so intimately in tune with recently.

But when Mawmaw called… I knew it was time.

Shrugging my rucksack tighter up my shoulder, I couldn’t find the strength to take a step forward. The wooden planks beneath my feet seemed to be coated in glue. I wasn’t sure whether to knock or just go on inside, but the silence outside of the breeze was deafening.

The bellow of an alligator sent a shiver down my spine. Such a familiar sound I’d long since forgotten, reminding me of just how much time had passed since I’d slept with the bayou beneath my window.

“You lookin’ for the Thibodeauxs?” An oddly familiar voice with a thick Cajun accent pierced my stupor.

Glancing to my right, I gave the neighbor approaching me a small smile. I knew her. She’d been my babysitter. Thinning gray hair had replaced the once stark, black strands. Her skin had become weathered, but the kindness in her eyes had yet to fade.

“Yes, ma’am,” I replied politely, keeping the accent in my words absent. She clearly didn’t recognize me.

“Oh, you missed them. They’ve all gone to town to prep the restaurant for tomorrow’s music festival.” Her smile widened as her flip-flops slapped against the porch steps.

“Thanks, I guess I’ll come back later.” I nodded and hoisted my duffel bag up off the ground.

She tipped her head and narrowed her eyes. “I feel like I’ve seen you before.” The Cajun accent in her voice lessened with each sentence. Remaining silent, my heart trilled in my chest. Maybe she did recognize me…

Slowly, her shoulders rose and she exhaled loudly. “Just can’t be too careful these days with the sneaky realtor man sending his cronies around here. ”

My stomach dropped to my feet. “How often are they sneaking around?” I asked, once again feeling that dreadful worry creeping up my throat, and accidentally let the vowels on my words shift with an accent.

Her downturned eyes narrowed as she furrowed her brows. “I know all the people in these parts, but not you. Yet, you ask as if you have some connection…”

Glancing over her shoulder, I tipped my head to the sky. Midday sun beat down upon my skin, and the humid air of the bayou coated my tongue. “Shoulda brought a bottle of liquor to share with a neighbor, wouldn’t ya say, Mrs. Dupre,” I replied, loosing the hold on my tongue.

I brought my gaze back to her as she placed a hand over her mouth and her eyes widened. “It can’t be,” she whispered. “ Ford ?”

With a brief, curt nod, I dropped my duffel to the ground as she launched herself and wrapped her arms around me. “It’s been too long. Too long, ya feel me?” she continued, tucking her face against my chest.

“You sold?”

“Absolutely not. Well, not the house at least,” she muttered, twisting my shirt in her fingers before releasing the hug.

“But the business?” I questioned, and her brows tightened with grief.

“Couldn’t afford not to. They came in with money that priced us out, ya know?” Mrs. Dupre wrapped her arms around her body, her yellow tank top bright against her dark skin. “It’s just your family and the LeBlancs holdin’ out. Stubborn fools.”

“You mean everyone?” I furrowed my brows, and she slowly nodded .

“The money was unlike any of us have ever seen. You’re the only one who’s ever made it out, and you know that. Nobody can leave, even if they wanna. Even Colette, ya feel me?”

The blood in my veins stilled. “She’s still here?”

Mrs. Dupre chuckled and blew out some air. “You think the LeBlancs could manage without her? Son, you and I both know what she means to their family.”

I nodded and ran my fingertips across the palms of my hands. Knowing that didn’t lessen the guilt that swam warm within my stomach. Twisted between excitement that she was here, yet sick knowing she was still here.

“Anyway, ya might as well drop your stuff off and head back into town. How’d ya get here, anyway?” she asked with a smile.

“Uber.” I clicked my tongue as her brows raised. “I’m as surprised as you are.”

“That showed up when the realtor did.”

“Figured,” I muttered and lifted the ball cap from my head. Tightening my fingers around the brim, I offered a small smile once more. “More’s changed than I thought, hasn’t it?”

She scoffed and turned around. “Everything except the people.”

“That’ll change, too, if we don’t stop it,” I replied, placing the hat backwards on my head as her feet clapped down the sidewalk.

“Always the optimist, aren’t ya?”

I didn’t respond as she faded back down to the gravel road and headed off to her house in the thicket.

No, I’d long become something much else .

Something even I failed to recognize. But at least I’d managed to drag my ass back here. Maybe time could heal the wounds I’d created. Maybe my desire to run away was coming to an end. But walking down these painful paths of memories wasn’t exactly the challenge I desired to face.

All I could think about was seeing the one place that held nothing but beautiful experiences from a life I’d left behind.

The one thing that had fueled my feet this far lay around a bend.

In the opposite direction Mrs. Dupre had gone.

It rested far back in the thick of cypress trees and Spanish moss.

I wondered how much it had changed, or if it remained just the same as every rundown home lining this desolate back road.

Gripping the handle of my duffel, I wandered off the porch.

There was no need to leave random signs that I’d returned.

My family deserved to hear I was back from me, not from a bag with my name on it.

Wandering down the road, I allowed the world around me to saturate my skin.

The moisture laden in the air felt dewy upon my body, as hot and thick as the summer heat back in the desert overseas—where I’d left a piece of my soul.

Except that was a dry heat, something different than the world around me.

As the branches of the cypress and oak trees stretched higher and higher, the sun faded behind deep, vibrant greens.

And there it was—the almost hidden path I’d last set foot upon fifteen years ago.

It was so easily disguised with moss and wild vegetation that it was often missed, but I knew this path by heart.

Turning off the road, I disappeared into the thicket, listening for sounds that I wasn’t alone.

But other than the white noise of the Bayuk, there was not another soul around me.

The tall blades of grass brushed against the ankles of my black joggers as I rounded another corner and slid my fingers across the damp bark of a cypress.

I paused and raised my brows. The once crudely built shack that had served as a hideout now resembled something more mature and stable. It was a simple cabin in the woods, and the mismatched boards camouflaged by the moss crawling up the sides looked sturdy.

The green metal roof was tall enough that I wouldn’t have to duck to enter now, and the two windows beside the front door were made with panes of actual glass.

I crept forward, meandering around some cattails and up the three steps onto the small porch.

To either side, the beginning buds of spider lilies slithered their way up the railing.

Once bloomed, they’d be that beautiful, spiced cherry-red color that was her hair.

I grabbed the knob and twisted it. The hinges groaned as the door swung inward. Natural light from the windows bathed the front room in gentle rays of gold. Letting the door swing shut behind me, I dropped my duffel and rucksack on the floor to my right and scanned my surroundings.

It was the gentle kiss once shared on the worn striped couch to my left that sent shivers down my spine.

Laughter bloomed in my ears as paint splattered all down the front of her shirt while we sat in the two chairs at the cracked round oak table to my right.

The faintest whisper of her warm breath danced against my neck as she slipped into a deep slumber in my arms in front of an old television that still only played VHS tapes.

The rug where we’d fallen onto from the couch whilst giving everything of ourselves to each other for the first time was no longer the vibrant blue it once had been .

I closed my eyes. It still smelled faintly of cinnamon despite the brand-new walls and larger floor plan. Apparently, she hadn’t had the heart to get rid of the memories, since, while the outside was new, everything inside had stayed the same.

Or she simply hadn’t been able to afford anything new other than reinforcing the one place that I hoped must have become her peaceful getaway in a world she had never been able to escape.

I knew.

There was no reason to get my hopes up.

Even if, for fifteen years, I’d closed my eyes and it was her fingers against my skin that kept me moving forward.

Even if, amidst war and violence, I’d drift away to where she smiled once again at me.

Where her blazing green eyes, as vibrant as the leaves in this forest, danced with the fire that lit up by my lips against hers.

Even if, when longing for home, it had been her voice I’d heard.

I knew.

As long as she was happy now.

Even if, for fifteen more years, I’d dream of no one but her.

While knowing I couldn’t have her because I’d destroyed her.

I knew.

It had all been for the best.

Choking down the tears that threatened to slip through the cracks in my dams, I gave one last glance around the room. This was supposed to be healing, but instead, I couldn’t bring myself to find out what lay in the second room that hadn’t been here before .

Except, perhaps entering this new space would wipe away the anguish twisting my depraved heart and the longing for a woman I could never call mine again.

I gulped and allowed myself to cross the floor. My boots tapped heavily against the bare boards, seeing no need to muffle my steps. Despite the room being larger, a few strides carried me quickly to the doorway opening into the next room.

Stepping over the threshold, knuckles cracked against my jaw.

Stars danced in my vision as I whipped to my right, adrenaline focusing my senses.

Another fist barreled toward me, and I parried it out of the way.

Catching the wrist of my attacker, I pulled it across my body, spinning them around and jerking my assailant back against my chest. As I wrapped my arm around the throat of my attacker, a familiar smell of cinnamon and clove danced up my nose.

Colette ?

I snaked another hand around her stomach, pressing her frame tighter into my body. She squirmed and grunted, throwing her free fist backward toward me. I collected both wrists into one hand, keeping my forearm pressed against her windpipe.

“Let. Go,” she snapped, attempting to jerk away from me. Warmth spread up my spine. Disbelief swirling low in my belly as I tucked my nose against her neck. Her coily, fiery red hair tickled my skin as she continued to fight against my hold.

“You fucker! You’re trespassing,” she snarled, her voice low and intimidating .

Everything in my body soared high like a June bug on a summer night. I couldn’t believe it was her. She twisted her left hand, her skin wringing tightly against mine, burning slightly.

I carefully opened my fingers, releasing her one hand. “Hi, Cher,” I whispered into her ear.

Her body stiffened immediately within my embrace.

“F-Ford?” she stammered.

“Still got a mean right hook,” I replied, relaxing my hold a little more. She remained still, and the heat from her skin against my arm sent goosebumps sailing across my body. I heard and felt every breath she inhaled against my arm. The room spun around us, yet neither of us moved.

She was here. I was touching her. Fifteen years, and the feel of her against me was just as visceral as the first time she’d let me brush wisps of hair behind her ear. For the first time in years, I felt…free. I’d known then that what I felt had been a once-in-a-lifetime love.

But not one meant to be.

Now, as she remained within my embrace, breathing hard, I dared to wish upon any spider lily I could find that she’d be mine. That this time, fate wouldn’t rip us apart.

And an agonizing pain flared up my left leg as if fire and ice had exploded in my muscle. I released Colette with a grunt and glanced down at the blade sending shockwaves up my thigh.

“You fucking fucker. You piece of shit asshole,” she sneered at me. Her palm sang against my cheek. The slap clacked my teeth together as I finally locked onto a gaze I’d only seen recently in my memories .

She blew out heavily, sending a coil of red hair away from her forehead, spun on her heels, and marched out of the small kitchen. I watched her leave in a trail of anger, frustration, and shock as the front door slammed shut.

Despite the sharp waves of pain shooting from the knife she’d left in my quad and the heat radiating from my cheekbone, I couldn’t help but smile.

Damn, I really missed her.