Playing Dirty Read Online Free Page B

for support. The light gray fingers of dawn were just beginning to stretch across the cloudless sky. A last shooting star streaked in the fading darkness, and she shook her head at the mocking irony. How many falling stars had she wished upon for Ford’s safe return? Too many to count, she realized. Too many sleepless nights spent alone while he was away, only God-knew-where. She couldn’t begin to catalogue the number of nights she’d looked up at the stars, worrying if he was safe, if he’d come back to her—until she’d eventually received word that he was never coming home again.  
    Now, when she’d finally made peace with the past and had stepped into the future with a man she could count on to be there for her, Ford had returned. How was it even possible that he was alive? Paul had told her there’d been an explosion, that Ford’s plane had gone down over the Mediterranean Sea, and there’d been no bodies to recover. For three years after that horrible day, she’d made bargain after bargain with God. She’d hoped and dreamed, wished and continued to pray that it had all been a horrible mistake and that Ford was alive but unable to return to her. How many nights had she stood on this very deck that Ford had built himself, harboring a false hope, until she could no longer deny the truth, or the futility, of her hopeless dreams?  
    Too many. Too many years of unbearable pain, of tears and unanswered prayers. Until, finally, she knew if she didn’t move on with her life, she’d stay forever mired in the heartache. For her daughter’s sake, she’d had no other choice. Phoebe deserved better. Her daughter may have had only one parent, but what she’d really needed was one who was present every single day, not living in the past and praying for a future that could never be.
    Although she’d had no body to bury, she’d found a way to lay the past to rest. By having a headstone placed in the Hart family plot in the cemetery on the edge of town, she been able to bury her memories of the only man she’d ever loved. Only then had she allowed herself to believe Ford’s death had been real, giving herself permission to move on with her life—to finally let go.
    And now he was back. He was alive and fully expecting to come home, to walk back into the life he’d been torn from and resume his position within their family. And where did that leave Trenton? More importantly, what about Phoebe? No matter what happened, someone was bound to get hurt. But her first concern had to be Phoebe.
    She loosened her grip on the railing and let out a slow, even breath. First, she needed to call her sister. No matter how much she’d missed Phoebe the past fourteen days and was anxious to have her daughter with her, bringing her home today simply wasn’t going to happen. If Griffen couldn’t keep her an extra day, then she’d see if her dad could take Phoebe overnight.  
    No matter how much Ford and Trenton argued, nothing was going to be decided right this second. She was exhausted, both physically and emotionally, and imagined Ford and Trenton were as well. Heaven knew, she needed to at least try to manage a few hours sleep, because at this point, her brain had simply refused to function. If she did nothing else this morning, she needed to tell Ford and Trenton she wasn’t yet ready to deal.  
    Her feet weighed a ton as she turned toward the house. The hydrangeas she and Ford had planted the summer before they’d left for college caught her eye. She was exhausted and numb, but her mind wouldn’t shut down for the life of her. Every place she looked, she saw Ford’s presence, his touch. She’d have loved nothing more than to liberate that fresh bottle of scotch from the liquor cabinet, but she knew from experience no amount of alcohol would staunch the flood of memories of Ford.  
    She struggled to draw air into her lungs as more memories assailed her. The first time she’d ever lain eyes on him and how she knew in