Spin City

Chapter 11

Spin City 11

Kyla's POV

Ford spreads the other blanket over us and I exhale. It's fluffy and soft, relaxing me, so much so that I feel the word vomit coming again and his musky, comforting scent dancing through the air isn't doing much to help my case. I feel too relaxed and too much like I want to tell Ford everything that's been bugging me for the past day.

"That guy in there, the one at Sal's booth, that was my ex, Kurt," I say.

"Wait. That was your ex?"

He's tense, distressed all of the sudden. His golden eyes shift away from mine. There's so much hiding in them as if he's remembering something I have no access to. If only he felt the same urge to confide in me the way I feel when I'm with him.

"Yeah. He's..."

"The asshole?"

"Wait...What?" I ask.

"That was the piece of shit who hurt you in there, the guy who..."

"Moody told you," I say.

It all make sense and either Sal or Moody are the culprits who told Ford about my complicated past. I wonder if he knows about my father. I wonder just how much they've shared with Ford, and without my consent.

"So you know?"

He nods but I still see some confusion, some question in his intense eyes that won't seem to escape my gaze long enough for me to breathe. It doesn't help that I'm sharing a blanket with him, that our shoulders are touching and my bare leg could move a centimeter and touch his. I'm currently regretting wearing shorts.

"Kyla, I don't know much. I'm always wondering with you."

Wow. Join the club. Ever since I've met Ford, I'm in a constant state of question. I question everything about him and I don't know much. I know that he's a doctor and a bartender who lives in a trailer in the middle of nowhere New Mexico. That's about it. Apparently, he doesn't suffer from word vomit around me, as I do when I'm with him. Maybe I shouldn't be so forthcoming with my life. I always promised myself I wouldn't and it has been a rule I've followed religiously before Ford.

I avoid his eyes. As much as I want to confide in him about everything I'm feeling right now, I have no way of knowing how it will be received, if it will be reciprocated or if I'll be the annoying girl who talks too much about her problems.

"Kyla, can I tell you something?"

I feel my gaze immediately turn to meet his at the words. I know there was something he was trying to tell me earlier in the bar but I ruined it with my big mouth. I ruined it with that nonsense of wanting to go slow, being too afraid to open up to him when maybe he needed to talk to me. If there's one thing I've learned, it's that I need to shut up when someone is trying to tell you something. So I look at him, hold his gaze, and do just that.

"I tried to tell you earlier. I've wanted to since that day that you drove all the way to my trailer when you told me about your mom."

He sighs. It looks like something is slowly eating him alive from the inside out, burdening and haunting him. If I didn't know better, I'd say that someone just body snatched the calm, collected Ford Wright and replaced him with some tortured soul I don't recognize. The look in his eyes urges me to reach out for him. I don't.

"It scared me," he says, "when you told me about your mom. I've never really, never really related with someone on such a personal level, Kyla, and as much as I pretend to be this calm guy, I'm really nervous right now."