Ginger's Heart (A Modern Fairytale, #3)(57)
After a while, he said, “There’s this quote I like, about how teenage boys see their fathers as stupid, but by the time they turn twenty-one, they’re shocked by how much their fathers have learned.”
Ginger chuckled softly, taking another bite of apple before offering the rest to Heath.
“It’s a little like that with my dad,” said Cain. “We never . . . I don’t know . . . we never really got along. He was so into the farm and the horses. Always seemed like he had way more in common with Woodman than me.”
“And now?”
“Either he grew up . . . or I did . . . or we both did,” said Cain thoughtfully. “Thing is, he still talks about horses all the danged time, it’s just that—”
“You don’t hate it so much?”
Cain shook his head. “I don’t hate it at all. Kind of like it, actually. There’s somethin’ . . . familiar about it.”
“Comfortin’.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“And the farm?”
“Same thing,” he said. “I was so f*ckin’ anxious to leave here, but it’s been a surprise comin’ back, you know? Comin’ home? Like seein’ it all through different eyes and realizin’ that everythin’ you thought you hated really wasn’t so bad.”
“That’s ’cause you’re different,” she said.
“You think so?”
“Oh, yeah,” she said, looking up as a flock of geese honked above them, heading south in a V formation. “I know so. You’re not half as mad or hotheaded. I mean, you’re still a flirt,” she said, elbowing him in the side. “But you grew up a lot while you were away, Cain.”
“That’s because I found a purpose,” he said. “Same way you have, Gin.”
But my purpose keeps me here, while yours will take you so very far away from me, she thought mournfully, imagining him leaving for Virginia on Friday and not coming home for a long, long time as he finished his commitment, toured the world on his motorcycle, then reenlisted for another four years. It was so depressing, a lump formed in her throat, and she stared down at the ground wishing it away.
“So, yeah, I think I’ll miss my dad. And I’ll be sorry to leave my cousin. Ain’t never been a sailor without him around.”
“I’ll look after him,” she said, chancing a glance at Cain’s face as she said this. He clenched his jaw, reaching up to swipe at his bottom lip with his thumb.
“I’m sure you will,” he said, an edge to his voice.
When you’re ready, come find me. I’ll be waitin’ for you.
Woodman’s words knocked around in her head, and she thought about them . . . thought about Cain being away for the past three years . . . thought about him going away again and never really coming back. Even if he didn’t reenlist, he wanted to see the world, and her world was here, in Apple Valley. If she was smart, she’d forget the way her heart fluttered around Cain, the way her fingers longed to touch him and her ear inclined to the low, sweet sound of his voice. If she was smart, she’d get on her horse right now and ride away, over to Woodman’s house, and tell him that she’d decided to give them a try. If she was smart, she’d put every ounce of effort she had into loving Woodman, in dating him with her whole heart, with every good intention, and see if there was a good life for them to share, just waiting to be discovered.
“And I’ll miss you too, princess,” Cain whispered, slowing down until he stopped walking. “I’ll miss you somethin’ awful.”
She stopped just in front of him, processing his words for a moment before turning around to look at him. He met her eyes with such open tenderness in his gaze, she was helpless to look away.
“You’ll be missin’ me from Timbuktu,” she said, trying to keep her voice light, but failing.
“Wherever I am,” he said in a tone of such heartbreaking longing, her breath caught and held in her chest, “I will always be missin’ you.”
As she stared into his blue eyes, thunder rumbled over the meadow, and Ginger looked up in time to see a dark cloud roll over the sun.
“Storm’s comin’,” said Cain, staring up at the sky in concern. “We’d best get back.”
He braided his hands together, and though she hated to leave their conversation where it was, she stepped into his hands and he helped her onto her horse, then leaped up on Thunder’s back, settling easily into the saddle.
Glancing back at her, he said, “Ride hard. You’re fast and strong. We can outrun it. I’ll be right behind you.”
Fast and strong. The last two things she felt like right now.
Her eyes were so full of unshed tears, she couldn’t see him clearly, but she nodded, then kicked Heath into a gallop. Tears slipped from her eyes as the wind whipped into her face, and she closed them, grateful that Heath knew the way home.
***
The next morning was Sunday, and more gray skies made the world feel cold and uncertain, and Ginger awoke feeling unsettled and confused after her talk with Cain yesterday. Her dreams had been wild and restless, leaving her tired. Instead of leaping out of bed and dressing for church, she burrowed under the covers seeking a peace that she couldn’t find.
On one hand, he seemed determined to keep her at arm’s length. On the other, she couldn’t have misunderstood his meaning about missing her. Unlike that time in her kitchen, he hadn’t tried to cover up his words with some song and dance about missing his dad and Woodman. When he said he’d miss her, he’d been speaking to her. And she’d heard him, loud and clear.