Not Us 3: Odette & Ford

Chapter 24

Ford's POV

I kept my kiss pressed to her forehead because I knew I was going to leave her and the kids. Not permanently, but. There was something I needed to do. I had to do it. I needed to drive the point home that she and the kids were my future since I met her two years ago. Because she was always the one for me. She was meant to be mine. And that just pissed me off all over again. Odette isn't letting go of me any time soon. I can feel it in the way she's holding me. I feel it in the way she's begging me to stay.

"I need to make a video entry to send to the therapist. Can I have the room?" I asked as calmly as I could, not looking at her. I can't. Not right now.

I'm so fucking pissed and it's not just my mom anymore. I'm pissed at myself the most. At Mack the second most. And for some fucking reason, I was also pissed at her. I was pissed at her the least, but I could still feel my anger towards her. I needed to start talking to figure it out because I didn't know where the rage was coming from, but I didn't need to be around anyone right now. I knew I was going to be an asshole if I opened my mouth again. And I didn't want to hurt her with my words.

I can feel her big eyes on me, trying to see what's going on inside this head of mine. I shut down all emotions, just like undercover. All feelings have to be placed inside a box, and then tossed behind a locked door, never to come out while undercover. I can't let her see. Not yet. I want to get this out first. Then I'll talk to her about it. I need to do this. I felt her weight shift on me as she pressed her lips to my cheek as she let go of me. She stands in front of me and I stare through her. I can't focus on the sight in front of me. I know looking and actually seeing her will crush me. I need to save this so I can work myself through it.

"I'll pack bags for the kids and we'll stay with Jac and Briggs for tonight. We're right next door. We want to give you space if that's what you need."

I just give a curt nod. She leaves the room, and I can hear her shuffling around from room to room, taking my children's things, her things, putting them in duffle bags. I hear the door shut. I wait a few moments, in the deafening silence of this house before I scream. I scream as loud, and as fucking long as I can. I scream until my lungs feel like every last bit of oxygen has been yelled out of them. I take another deep breath and keep screaming until my voice is hoarse, my throat feeling raw like I had just swallowed glass.

I stood up and paced for a minute before I pulled my phone out and set it on the dresser I hadn't knocked over in my fit after hearing what my Dad had said. I tried to be calm and thought if I just walked away that would help. But it didn't. On the walk, I realized I was getting more and more pissed. I logged into the app that we use to communicate, hit record, and start pacing back and forth. My hands run through my hair and I just start crying. I stood in one spot. Crying. Like a little baby. After a few minutes, I finally felt like I could say something instead of just worrying my therapist with tears and nothing else when she watched this.

"My Mom was a drunk and a dumpster fire of a mess while I was gone on my mission, according to my Dad. He said she saw me on TV in Italy, so she called the fucking embassy, saying I was an American citizen in need of saving," I could feel the tears in my eyes as I rubbed my hand across the little bit of five o'clock shadow that was popping out. I blinked as hard I could, trying to make them go away and still talk past the fucking boulder in my throat.

"My Mom," my voice cracked. I cleared my throat, trying to sound a little less emotional about this, "She's the reason our cover was blown. The families had people working everywhere to check for fucking spies. And she fucking called. I wrote in her letter I would try my hardest to make it back, but this is top fucking secret and I probably won't be able to reach out. I told her that my life was at stake. What the actual fuck?! I mean, she's the reason my partner got shot and killed herself. She's the reason I was kidnapped and fucking tortured! How the fuck am I supposed to deal with that information?" I could feel myself getting choked up again, "Then she had the balls to fucking say it was a 'little mission'?!" The disgust and disdain dripping from my voice were thick and palpable, "Like she'd fucking know what it was like, always being on edge, always having to be 'on'. Always watching over your fucking shoulder, making sure the other shoe never fucking drops. She doesn't know what it's like running from people who want you dead, who are firing at will as you run for your life, praying you make it out."

I am breathing hard as I shook my head. I leaned my whole body back against the wall behind me for a moment, my legs feeling weak and I felt a little dizzy. Adrenaline leaving my body. I bent at the waist and supported myself with my hands on my knees. I took a deep, steadying breath, not looking at the camera. I focused on my breathing, eyes trained on the lines on the floor. Focusing all of my energy on that.

"I'm going to take the video the agency found of my 'sessions' with my kidnappers," thinking about how the file for it is and the photos are just down the hall locked away in my safe I carry with me practically everywhere.

"I'm going to take the pictures of my body they took when they were looking over my body to figure out how to put the meat puzzle bag together so hopefully it can get back in the game. Never mind how broken his mind is, as long as it's not too broken. Thankfully, I came back too broken." I took another deep breath, not feeling dizzy or nauseous anymore. I felt a weird calm come over me. I looked at the camera. Making sure I was staring into the soul of my therapist so she knew I was going through with this, and nothing could stop me, I continued.

"I'm going to show her what she did to me when she chose to ignore what I said in my letter to her. I'm going to show her everything. Maybe she'll see what this 'little mission' was like," I used the finger-quotes when used her words to talk about the hell I went through, "That I worked my ass off to be standing where I am now, and that she should count herself lucky to be a grandma of three wonderful kids and to have such a daughter-in-law. Odette is an angel. I'm also going to tell her that it's my final goodbye to her."

I started pacing again, rubbing my chin as I thought. "I'm still fucking angry though," I said not looking at the camera. I can't look at it when I say this. I'm fucking ashamed to even think it or feel it. I stopped walking and just looked ahead, freezing with my hand on my chin.

"I'm pissed at Mack. I'm pissed he needed me. I'm pissed that he fucking sent me there. I'm pissed he knew—he fucking knew—Odette was pregnant. He never fucking told me and I had talked to him every few months to report on what was going on. I'm pissed. And he's not even here for me to take it out of. What the fuck am I supposed to do with all this anger? Because I'll be honest. I'm not pissed he's dead. I'm not pissed I'm raising his boys." I took a deep breath thinking some more.

"And I'm really fucking ashamed of myself for being mad at Odette. She has a full family here. She's got a great support system. She's got the love of the kids and has for years. But..." I paused, looking up at the ceiling with my hands on my hips, trying to blink back the angry tears trying to free themselves, "I'm most mad that I'm like this and she's not! I'm so fucking mad that my brain is the one fucked up! I'm mad that I went over there and now I have to work hard at being normal. When I just...used to fucking be it!" I was shouting at the end of it.

"I fucking hate my brain! I still wish I'd died over there sometimes! I hate that Odette isn't fucked up like me! That she's fucking normal! I hate that I even hate that she's not fucked up! I don't want that for her?! But I'm just so fucking angry! Why?! Why me?!" I was raging again, the tears streaming down my reddened cheeks.

"I had just fucking met her! I had just fallen in love! I had just found my forever! We made a baby and I didn't get to be there for anything!" I can feel the tears rush faster from my eyes at the thought of missing ten months of Sutton's life and missing watching her grow, safely tucked away with her mother. I hated it and sobbed harder, shouting at the top of my lungs, "I hate it all!"

I scream again, letting as much pain out as I can! I take in a ragged breath and scream again.

This time, because, the day our cover was blown? Was our last day.

We were set to evac the next day.