Ginger's Heart (A Modern Fairytale, #3)(65)

She took a deep, sobbing breath beside him, grieving her lost chance with Cain today and feeling the strong pull to surrender to Woodman. How easy it would be to choose him, to build something with him. No more frustration and heartbreak. No one challenging her or asking her to jump. No more arms pushing her away, just pulling her into a warm and safe embrace.

“Gin,” he whispered, “are you in love with Cain?”

And just like that, her heart broke all over again, but this time, for Woodman.

Because she knew how painful it was for him to ask the question, and yet he asked it and he asked it kindly, his voice filled with love and understanding. Her shoulders trembled, and her chin fell forward to rest on her chest as she wept.

I love the wrong cousin. Oh God, help.

“Gin,” said Woodman, putting his finger under her chin and tilting her face up to look at him. His eyes were sad but kind as he looked down at her. “Cain is my cousin and I love him, but I just . . . I just don’t think he’s right for you.”

“Why?” she asked, finding that she was desperate for an answer. What’s so wrong with me that he can’t choose me?

“I see you with me, not him,” Woodman continued. “Darlin’, I’d be so good to you. Don’t you know that?”

She nodded, tears streaming down her face because of course she knew it was true. It had always been true. He reached down and took her hand, placing it directly over his heart.

“You can have this heart to break,” he said softly, his voice gravelly with emotion, “if there’s even the smallest chance you might want it someday. Because here is what I know: even if you can’t ever give me yours, mine already belongs to you.”

And inside Ginger’s heart, something gave way. Something happened that she hadn’t expected or seen coming: a tectonic shift of broken, shattered plates. It wasn’t that she suddenly loved Woodman in the wild, passionate way she’d always loved Cain, but for just a moment, her heart recognized him as more than he’d ever been before. And after the beating her heart had borne earlier in the day, it felt like a blessed relief.

When she raised her eyes, she tried to smile at him, but more tears spilled over. “God damn it, Josiah. Why’re you s-so good to me?”

“Why’s the sky blue, Ginger?” he asked, raising her hand to his lips and kissing the underside of her wrist before entwining his fingers through hers. “Because it don’t know no other way to be.”

“I’m so tired,” she said honestly, letting her head fall to his shoulder. She took a deep, ragged breath that shook her whole body, and he put his strong arm around her, pulling her into his side and resting his head on top of hers.

And in Woodman’s arms, she found a profound and unexpected peace at the end of a long and emotionally exhausting day. In Woodman’s arms, there was unconditional love, support, admiration, and acceptance. In Woodman’s arms, she was safe and wanted. And right now? Right this minute, in the wake of Cain’s devastating rejection? Safe and wanted felt good, felt right, felt like the right path for her future, for her whole life.

“Then you go ahead and rest,” he said. “I’m not goin’ anywhere, Gin. My heart belongs to you. If you’re ever ready to give me yours, well, you come find me, darlin’. I’ll be waitin’.”

She tried to catch her breath but ended up sobbing and sniffling before continuing. “You d-deserve the best, W-Woodman.”

“Which is why I’m waitin’ for her to come to her senses,” he said, chuckling lightly.

She’d woken up this morning certain that she wanted to give herself to Cain, yet here she was, ending her day in Woodman’s arms, tucked against his side, and feeling more peace and comfort than she had a right to.

And suddenly it occurred to her that it was within her control—right here, right now—to leave Cain behind, to banish him from her aching heart, to forget she ever wanted him . . . and give all her love to Woodman.

Don’t think about it so hard. Just do it. Make a good choice. Make the right choice.

“You love me that much?”

“That much and more,” he said tenderly, and she knew—beyond even a shadow of doubt, that the words were true. “Close your eyes and rock awhile beside ole Woodman. I love you, Gin. I’ve got you covered. You just take your time, darlin’.”

Again, the perfect words, said just exactly when she needed them. She took a deep, clean breath and relaxed against him, closing her eyes as he’d instructed. She squeezed his fingers for reassurance and let her head rest heavy against his shoulder, but restfulness didn’t come. A vision of Cain, pushing her away, appeared front and center in her mind as his cruel words echoed in her head, making her beaten heart constrict with pain.

Do you know where I go every night, Ginger? I go f*ck Mary-Louise Walker . . . I don’t think you have any idea what the hell you want . . . cock-teasin’ bitch . . . This conversation is over. Go home.

She winced from an onslaught of fresh anguish, opening her eyes. She couldn’t bear it. She had to do something—anything—to erase Cain from her mind once and for all. And suddenly the answer revealed itself to her like a light in the darkness, like warmth after cold—a choice that would soothe the broken rawness of her shattered heart.

“I don’t need any more time,” she said, lifting her head and nailing Woodman with the hottest look her virgin eyes could muster. “I want to be with you.”