Ginger's Heart (A Modern Fairytale, #3)(114)
Ginger, on the other hand, didn’t. Cain had no idea of the state of their relationship when Woodman died, but among Woodman’s last words were She loves you. And he’d only stayed alive to hear Cain promise to love her back. She had to be living with the weight of guilt and regret on her shoulders, and as much as Cain wanted to take that pain away for her, he couldn’t. Not without telling her that Woodman had placed her in his care before dying, which was something he wasn’t prepared to do.
The reality was that he needed to keep the secret until she believed, beyond any doubt, that Cain loved her. If he told her too soon, she’d always question whether or not he loved her only because Woodman had told him to, when the truth was that he owned the love he felt for her in the same way he owned his heart or his lungs or the blood in his veins or the thoughts in his head. Loving Ginger was as effortless as breathing, and no less fundamental. Had been since he was a kid, would be until he died.
A lump rose in his throat, and he tried to clear it away.
“Gin,” he said softly, running the backs of his fingers across her damp cheek. “You want some tea or somethin’?”
She opened her eyes, which were glassy and tired.
“Just h-hold me awhile?” she whispered, her soft, sad voice shredding his heart.
Cain gulped. He’d f*cked hundreds. He’d willingly held almost none.
“I’m . . . I’m filthy, Gin. I didn’t change before I left the garage. I’ll get your bed all dirty. I could just sit on the floor beside—”
“I don’t care,” she murmured. “P-please, Cain.”
He wasn’t sure how good he would be at emotional intimacy—he hadn’t had a very good example in his parents—and he’d never allowed himself to become attached to any of the girls he’d been with, purposely wandering, never making a connection. But, f*ck, if there was one girl he was willing to figure it out for, it was Ginger.
He sat down in the curve of her body and leaned over to untie the laces of his boots, his heart racing like that of a teenager about to touch a tit for the first time. His fingers trembled lightly, which made the job harder, but he finally managed to shuck them off. His hands were rough, smudged with grease, and for just a moment he considered going into her bathroom and washing them before he lay down beside her, but he sensed that his presence was what she needed more than clean hands, and he promised himself if he ruined her clothes or comforter, he would buy her something new.
He stood up, walked around the bed, then paused a moment as he stared down at her small body. She was a perfect S, with her head bent forward and her legs tucked back. As he sat down on the other side of the bed, the mattress depressed and his breathing quickened. Swinging his legs up, he lay down, rolled onto his side, and scooted closer to her. He wrapped his arm around her waist and, inhaling the warm woman scent of her body, pulled her against his chest. He slipped his other arm under her head like a pillow and bent his knees into hers. She reached for his hand, covering it with hers and backing up against him until they were so close, he could feel her lungs expand and release with every breath she took and gave. Instead of concentrating on the feeling of her body in his arms, he closed his eyes and synchronized his breathing to hers. Little by little, his heart stopped racing, and his body, which had been so wired a few minutes before, calmed down.
Soon he heard her softly snoring and realized she was asleep. He leaned forward to press his lips to her hair.
I’m in love with you, he thought, flinching even as he held her closer. I’ve been in love with you for most of my life, princess. And I promise you, here and now, there’s only you for me. I’m not sayin’ I’ll be good at this, because I don’t know what the f*ck I’m doin’ when it comes to stickin’ around. But no matter how long it takes, I promise I’ll wait for you. I’ll help you find the peace you need. I’ll do anything, darlin’. Just to be with you.
“Cain,” she whispered into the darkness, her voice so tired and small, he wasn’t sure if she was awake or asleep.
“What, baby?”
“Don’t leave me again,” she murmured, sighing deeply before falling back to sleep.
He had no idea if she was aware of her words or what they did to him—the hope they lit inside him, the longing they assuaged, the beautiful dreams they set in motion.
“I’m not goin’ anywhere, darlin’,” he said softly, near her ear. “I’m stayin’ with you.”
She didn’t speak again, but she snuggled a little closer to him, and he adjusted their hands so that their fingers were woven together. Ginger. Cain. Ginger. Cain. Ginger. Cain.
Be good to her.
Care for her.
Love her.
“Thank you, son,” whispered Cain into the darkness before falling asleep beside her.
***
Warm.
Safe.
Cain.
Early-morning light streamed through her bedroom window, which was a very good excuse to keep her eyes closed and pretend that she was still asleep. Their fingers were still loosely braided together, and the front of his body was still pressed flush against the back of hers. She felt his breath on the back of her neck, deep and even, warming the skin and causing goose bumps to rise on her arms. She moved experimentally, shifting against him, and was rewarded with a low groan and the tightening of his arm around her.