Ginger's Heart (A Modern Fairytale, #3)(118)

“D-doll baby,” said Gran softly.

Ginger leaned down and kissed her grandmother’s cheek. “More flowers?”

Gran’s eyes flicked to the flowers, then back to Ginger. “How w-was . . . w-work?”

“It was good,” she said, reaching for her grandmother’s trembling hand.

“W-will I . . . see you . . . t-tomorrow?”

“I can come by in the morning if you like, but I’m working at Cain’s new business on Tuesdays and Fridays.”

Was it Ginger’s imagination, or did Gran’s eyes light up at this news?

“How is . . . C-Cain?”

“Confusing. Wonderful. Terrible. Amazing.” Ginger scoffed softly, tracing the blue veins on the back of Gran’s hand before lifting it to her lips for a kiss. “Remember when I was fifteen? You warned me against him.”

“I didn’t . . . t-trust him . . . then. B-but d-doll b-baby . . .” Gran struggled to take a deep breath, and when she finally did, she sighed a long breath before continuing. “P-people can ch-change . . . Has C-Cain . . . changed?”

“Yes,” said Ginger, lying down beside her grandmother’s constantly trembling body. “He has changed. He’s, well, he’s settled down, for one. He isn’t drinkin’ and angry. He grew up, Gran. He isn’t a boy anymore. He’s . . . he’s a man now.”

“A g-good man?”

Ginger considered this. She thought of how he’d come to tell her about Woodman, how he pulled her out of her deep and dark depression and back into the world, how he risked her feelings by telling her the truth, how he came to her on New Year’s Eve when she’d called and kept her company for most of yesterday.

“I think so . . . but Gran, I loved him once before, and he couldn’t love me back. He didn’t want me.”

“Cain al-ways . . . w-wanted you.”

She shook her head. “No. That’s not true.”

“Yes, s-sweetheart. Always. He j-just . . . d-didn’t feel . . . w-worthy of you. And m-maybe he w-wasn’t . . . racing all a-around . . . the c-countryside . . . w-with God . . . knows who.”

“He isn’t like that anymore,” said Ginger quickly. “He has a business now, Gran. He’s changed. I promise you.” She took a deep breath and released it carefully. “Since Woodman . . . since Woodman . . . died, he’s changed.” She exhaled shakily, as acknowledging Woodman’s passing was still new and painful. “He’s still ornery. He cusses a streak. And he’s bossy as anything. But I think . . . I mean, I feel like I might still be wastin’ away without him. In his own way, he saved me, Gran. He saved me from grieving my life away.”

“You said . . . you l-loved . . . him once?”

“Very much,” said Ginger, remembering the courage it had taken to find him at the old barn and confess her love to him. His hands cupping her face. His body pressing hers against the barn wall. Their kiss. His hands. Cain, Cain, Cain . . . I love you. God, I love you so much.

“D-does that . . . k-kind of l-love . . . d-die?” asked Gran.

No. It doesn’t. Don’t lie, Ginger. Don’t say it’s dead when you can feel it alive inside you right this minute.

She bit her bottom lip in thought, finally answering, “It becomes cautious.”

“Then t-t-t-take . . . your t-time,” said Gran.

She was slurring her words, and her voice was becoming softer and softer even as her body kept moving and jerking. Ginger rolled to her side and gathered her grandmother into her arms as best she could.

“I’ll miss you . . . someday,” said Ginger as a tear slid down her face.

“You’ll . . . h-h-have . . . C-Cain.”

Will I? Is it possible, after everything, for Cain and I to be together?

Gran’s eyes were closing. “C-consider . . . who he is . . . not who . . . he was.”

A new man. A good man. A tender man. A man who stays. A man who sets her blood on fire. The man she’d always wanted, and yet . . .

“If I let myself love him, I don’t think I could stand to lose him. Gran, it would take so much courage to fall in love with him again.”

“L-lionhearted l-l-l’il . . . g-gal,” murmured her grandmother, drifting off to sleep.

Ginger started, wondering when in the world Gran had ever heard Cain call her that . . . but then, Cain had been calling her that forever. Certainly Gran could have heard it at some point or another.

Stronger’n death, with the heart of a lion.

But was she strong enough to give love, and Cain, another chance? And was that a chance he was interested in taking?

***

It was only his second day open, but nothing was going right.

Cain had bought two laptops—one for himself and one for Ginger—but the guy he’d hired from Geek Squad to set them up basically told him they were both shit. Great. So Cain had to run up to Best Buy in Lexington and get two new ones, at twice the price.

Upon returning, he noticed the flowers on her desk were gone, and the IT guy sheepishly admitted he’d knocked them over and the vase had shattered. He’d thrown them in the bathroom garbage bin. So Cain had to take out the trash and make another trip out—this time to the Piggly Wiggly—for a fresh bouquet.

When he came back from that trip, the phone was ringing. Someone was calling about a funny noise on his custom chopper’s suicide clutch. Could Cain take a look? Sure, he could. Would twelve work? He made a face. He definitely didn’t want to turn down new business, but he’d really hoped to have a little one-on-one with Ginger when she first arrived.