Memories of Ford and me watching his dad work on various projects filled my mind. We’d sit on the bench against the wall and hand Frank tools as he asked for them. I bent and picked up the dolly, placing it in the corner. “I’ve been keeping it tidy so it’s ready for him when he’s up to his projects again.”

Ford was suddenly close, placing a hand on my shoulder. His touch froze me to the spot, searing my skin. I wanted so badly to lean into the touch, to silently ask for more. “Thank you, Bell. For everything.” He let out a sound of frustration, his hand falling away, leaving me cold. “Thank you isn’t even close to enough. I wish there were words that fit, but everything I come up with is so damn lacking.”

My chest squeezed. “You don’t have to thank me, Ford. I love them. I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

He nodded. “Come on, I’ll drive you back to your car.”

“Thanks.” I shrugged out of the coat I’d been wearing. The sun was out in full force, and moving furniture had only made me warmer. “Let me just throw my jacket upstairs, and I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll lock up while you do that.”

I tossed Ford my keys. “The pink one is for the shed.”

His brow arched. “Pink for a tool shed?”

I laughed as I jogged away. “Girls can build stuff, too, Ford.”

I took the outside stairs two at a time until I reached the landing outside my apartment. I slowed and looked down. There was a package there, wrapped in brown paper and tied with twine, a slip of paper under the string. I lifted it up, pulling the note free. Don’t forget her.

My overheated skin turned cold as I took in the sloppily scrawled words. What the hell? My hands trembled ever so slightly as I pulled off the twine and tore the paper. As the wrapping fell away, I sucked in a sharp breath. It was a scarf I hadn’t seen in at least a dozen years. Pale pink and blue plaid. One of Violet’s favorites.

My gaze darted from the scarf down to the parking lot and back again. I turned on my heel and jogged back down the stairs, forgetting all about putting my jacket in my apartment. I crossed the parking lot in long strides as Ford headed for his dad’s truck.

“Were you at the bar today?” My question came out a bit harsher than intended, but I couldn’t seem to hold back the anger that simmered under my skin.

Ford’s brow furrowed. “Yeah for about ten minutes before I went to my parents’. Why?”

I held up the scarf. “Is this your sick idea of a gift? Like I would ever forget Vi!”