Rocks bit into my backside, but it barely registered as sobs wracked my body. I’d made peace with Violet’s death, with the turn my life had taken, even with losing Ford. I’d worked so damn hard to find peace, and all it had taken was Ford striding through the door to smash it all to smithereens.

I hugged my knees tighter to my chest, rocking myself back and forth, not stopping until my tears had slowed and my sobs had quieted. I let my head fall to my knees, pressing my eyes against them, trying to relieve some of the pressure gathering there. I pressed harder. I wasn’t going to give in. Wasn’t going to let this man’s presence take me out. I’d overcome so much worse than him. I’d get through this, too.

I lifted my head, resting my chin on my knees as I stared out at the ocean. I wasn’t alone anymore. I’d built a family of my own choosing. They weren’t my blood, but they were mine. I had people at my back, who would see me through this season of storms.

A fissure of pain lanced my chest. Did Kara and Frank know that their son was back in town? Hunter had kept it from me, but I was shocked that Kara had done the same. She and Frank had become second parents to me in the years following the accident. People who understood me far better than my own family ever did. It was Frank who taught me how to refurbish furniture pieces, and Kara who helped me learn how to pick and choose which ones were worth salvaging. They never pushed, but always supported.

But Ford was a topic never raised when I was present in the Hardy household. I picked up snatches of updates here and there. I’d even given in to Googling him in college, coming across an article in the LA Times titled “The Nightlife King Spreads His Kingdom Across LA”. There’d been a photo of him with one of those ultimate fighters and a famous musician, with a bevy of beautiful women behind them. He didn’t seem to be suffering one bit. Meanwhile, I was reminded of that night every time my scar tissue pulled, or I was forced into an awkward encounter with my parents.

I pressed my hand against my ribs. I could feel the raised flesh through my tank top. The pain was gone now. My body had healed, as had my soul. So, why did it feel as if both were being ripped wide-open?