Ginger's Heart (A Modern Fairytale, #3)(66)

Chapter 15


Cain



I know you love me, Cain. I can see it. I can feel it. I know it’s true. This is the last time you will ever reject and humiliate me. I promise you. The last time.

He’d relived their fight for the rest of the day, hearing her words in his head over and over again until the sun set and a sort of panic took hold of him.

There was such a cold finality to her words, and frankly it frightened him. Why? Because he’d known since her twelfth birthday that there was a chemistry, a once-in-a-lifetime electricity, between them. He’d ignored it and denied it and tried to put it aside for Woodman’s sake, but the idea of losing her for good?

No, it wasn’t just frightening. It was terrifying. It was too final. In its own way, it felt like death.

I just want us to give this . . . this thing between us a chance. You’re leavin’ on Friday, for God’s sake! I’m only askin’ for a handful of days. Why can’t you do that, Cain? Why can’t you be with me? Why can’t you give us a chance?

Those questions circled around and around in his head as he pulled boards off the old barn and threw them into the pile. Her words plagued him mercilessly as he worked his fingers to the bone, splinters burying under his skin, nails digging into his flesh. He didn’t care. All he could see was her shattered eyes. All he could hear was her voice—her broken voice, begging him to see what was between them and give it permission, give it legs, give it life.

Why can’t you give us a chance?

Because of Josiah.

Because she was Josiah’s girl.

Because Josiah had been in love with her for almost as long as Cain could remember.

The problem, Cain realized as he left the old barn at dusk to walk home, was that he wouldn’t feel fear like this—anguish like this—unless he was in love with her too. And the recognition of the feelings he’d had since he was a kid—the realization that he was every bit as much in love with Ginger as Woodman—just about made him want to die. Because this was a no-win, terrible, awful situation.

Two cousins.

One girl.

Someone wins.

And someone loses.

And Ginger had all but guaranteed his win today, which meant Josiah— his best friend, his cousin, his brother, his flesh and blood—would lose. His breath caught. He wasn’t sure he could bear that.

But f*ck! Was it fair that Woodman, who’d claimed her when they were only kids, was the ice wedged between the fire that Cain and Ginger shared? Just because Woodman wanted her and loved her didn’t mean that Cain didn’t love and want her too. He did. He always had. He’d just realized it a little later than Woodman had.

Reaching the barn, he opened the tack room door and called, “Papa? Pop? You here?”

When his father didn’t answer, he felt grateful. He needed the time alone to think.

Crossing the dark, quiet room, Cain took a K?lsch from the refrigerator and popped the bottle cap off, placing his lips on the icy glass and relishing the cold bubbles on the back of his throat as he leaned against the kitchen counter.

Finally lowering the bottle, he pulled his bottom lip into his mouth and clenched his eyes shut.

“Fuuuuuck!” he yelled into the silence, desperation and frustration ramping up until his heart pounded like he’d run a mile.

She was furious and hurt when she left.

And he was leaving in a few days.

Whatever window he had to fix this was swiftly closing, and if he didn’t go and talk to her now, it would be too late by the time he came home again. He’d practically pushed her into Woodman’s waiting arms, and with the two of them in Apple Valley together, proximity would assure that Cain lost any chance with her . . . forever.

“No!” he growled, taking another long sip from the bottle, then slamming it down on the counter.

He tore off his dirty T-shirt and threw it on the floor, unbuttoned his jeans, and headed for the bathroom. He turned on the shower and shucked off his boxers as he waited for the water to warm up, then he stepped inside, sighing as the hot water hit his weary muscles.

He had only four full days left at home before he was due back in Virginia, and he couldn’t bear the thought of spending those days avoiding Ginger when all he wanted was to reach for her, touch her, kiss her, love her, make enough memories with her to get him through the years ahead without her.

He soaped his chest, his fingers playing over the contour of muscle, wondering what it would feel like for Ginger’s soapy hands to slide over his skin. His cock twitched and swelled, remembering her eyes this afternoon. God, the strength it had taken for him to refuse her after that kiss—that scorching-hot f*cking kiss. If he’d just taken when she was offering, by now, she would have been his. She would belong to him in every possible sense of the word. Leaning his forehead against the shower wall, he let the hot water sluice over his back, down his legs, until it ran clear of soapy bubbles and he was clean.

He wanted her. Fuck, how he wanted her.

“You can’t f*ckin’ have her,” he muttered, shutting off the water and pushing the curtain aside. He plucked a clean towel from the pile on the back of the toilet, and as he dried his body he considered the changes in his cousin over the past few weeks.

Woodman was doing better now, wasn’t he? Sure, his full recovery would take some time, but he was working at the firehouse and his spirits had improved. He was shaving, taking care of himself. No more talk about life not being worth living.