Ginger's Heart (A Modern Fairytale, #3)(22)

Cain flinched, hanging his head as he stared down at the ground. When he looked up again, his expression was sorry. “It didn’t mean anythin’.”

“You say that one more time, and I will break your f*ckin’ nose.”

“You are too tightly wired, Josiah!” yelled Cain. “Fuck me! I’m sorry I kissed her. I shouldn’t’a done that, but it’s over and done, and I can’t take it back.”

Woodman took a deep breath, trying to calm down. “Why are you takin’ her to the f*ckin’ dance in the first place?”

“Her date got sick or somethin’.”

Woodman tried desperately not to flinch. “So she asked you to take her?”

Hell, he’d only gotten her a date in the first place because he didn’t think she’d want to be escorted by someone like him, who’d already graduated. He assumed she’d want to go with someone her own age. Fuck, if she’d been fine going with someone not still in high school, he’d have f*cking offered to escort her. As it was, it hurt like hell that she hadn’t come to him when things fell through with Robby.

Cain shrugged. “I offered. She was all sad and cryin’ . . . and . . . Fuck, Josiah. What the f*ck do you want from me?”

“What the f*ck do I want from you?” Woodman repeated, his voice stuffed with incredulity and anger. “There is a girl who we have known all our f*ckin’ lives, and today you kissed her like the world is endin’. And f*ck, that sucks, Cain. That sucks for me because I love her, but there’s a bigger problem now. She is expectin’ you to take her to a goddamned high school dance tonight, and I will be damned if I let you stand her up. So you tell me, Cain, are you plannin’ to head back to McHuid’s and f*ckin’ take her?”

Cain’s face was stone as he stared back at his cousin. “No.”

Josiah ran a hand through his hair, his face twisting up in frustration and anger. “Did you or did you not say you’d take her to the f*ckin’ dance?”

Cain ran his thumb over his lower lip and shook his head. “She was so f*ckin’ sad . . .”

“So you said you’d take her to a dance.”

Cain nodded curtly.

“Then you better quit drinkin’ because you’ve got a f*ckin’ date tonight and you’re goin’ to f*ckin’ take her to homecomin’, Cain, or I will beat you bloody until I can’t stand up no more.” Woodman trembled from the conflicting mess of feelings inside. Betrayal. Hurt. Anger. Sadness. But his love for Ginger trumped all other feelings. He concentrated on her lovely face in his head as he added, “You are not standin’ her up while I got breath in my body.”

Cain’s eyes were wild and cold as he looked at his cousin. His expression was fierce but inscrutable, even for Woodman, who knew him so well. He read a mixture of frustration and sadness, anger and regret, but there was so much more—and for a moment, Woodman felt like he was seeing the root of the deep conflict between them. The distance that Woodman had felt for years now was simmering and seething just beneath the surface of all the commonplace emotions Woodman could identify. But before he could figure it out, Cain dropped Woodman’s eyes and looked down at the ground, muttering, “You take her, Josiah.”

“She’s not f*ckin’ expectin’ me, you monumental *. You f*ckin’ kissed her, Cain, Might have meant diddly-squat to you, but it f*ckin’ meant somethin’ to her.” Woodman put his hands on his hips, shaking his head in despair. “Jesus, brother. You can’t keep treatin’ people like this. Like shit on the bottom of your shoes.”

“It was a mistake,” said Cain softly, after sucking a breath through his teeth, the blood from his nose starting to dry a dull maroon on his upper lip. “She was sad about us leavin’, sad that her date to the dance got sick and canceled. I was only aimin’ to comfort her a little, and then . . . and then . . .”

“Your f*ckin’ tongue found its way down her throat.”

Cain’s head snapped up, and he searched Woodman’s eyes. His voice was low and taunting when he murmured, “You know what, Josiah, you self-righteous f*ckin’ prick? She wasn’t exactly complainin’.”

Woodman’s arms shot back, and his hands flattened on Cain’s chest, pushing with all his might. Cain stumbled backward, ending up on his ass. He didn’t get up, sitting in the grass and looking up at his cousin in defeat.

“Shut up already and take her to the goddamn dance, Josiah. Just f*ckin’ take her,” said Cain, his voice resigned, the frustration and anger seeping from his eyes until only sorrow remained. “You know you want to.”

Woodman nodded, staring down at his cousin in disgust. He spat on the ground right near Cain’s hip, then swiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “Fine. I will. I will clean up your mess once again.” He started to turn away, then paused and looked down at Cain, hands on his hips. The setting sun shone brightly in Woodman’s eyes, which meant he was barely able to make out Cain’s face. “But this is the last time. You hear me, Cain? The last time. You’re on your own from now on.”

Cain, who’d rested his elbows on his bent knees, looked up at Woodman, blocking the sun, and his icy blue eyes flashed white-hot in the dying light. “We’re headed to boot camp tomorrow. Together. In the Buddy Program.”