Her pink lips were plump and glossy, and her cheekbones high. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and she wore glasses. But behind them her eyes were as deep and dark as they’d ever been, trained, with wariness, on Cain.
“Welcome home,” she said softly, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth. Her voice trembled lightly, and it was slightly deeper than it had been three years ago, but otherwise familiar to his ears.
He placed his hands on the windowsill. “Hey, princess.”
Her eyes widened, and her lips tilted up just a hair as she stared back at him, but he would have missed the small smile if he wasn’t watching carefully. Her face adjusted into a scowl a moment later. “Ginger’s good.”
“Yes, she is,” he agreed, smirking at her.
She shook her head, scoffing with annoyance as she broke eye contact with him. “Some things never change.”
Her words bothered him because Cain felt that he’d changed materially in the years he’d been away. “How d’you mean?”
“Still the shallow flirt, huh?”
He winced, lifting his hands and stepping away from her car, though he still held her eyes. He swiped at his lower lip with his thumb before putting his hands on his hips.
“Still mad, huh?” he volleyed back.
She reached up and took out the rubber band holding her ponytail, running her hands through her hair. Her movements hypnotized him, and he watched her greedily as she turned her neck to face him again.
“Just saw Woodman.” She blinked back tears, then lifted her chin. “Thanks for bringin’ him home.”
Cain shrugged. Here was common ground for them. Comfortable ground. “I’d do anythin’ for him.”
“Me too,” she said evenly, her eyes finally softening.
His hand reached out from his hip, and he realized it was headed for her cheek—to touch it, clasp it, feel its warm sweetness beneath his palm once again. He forced it to change direction at the last minute and flipped her side-view mirror up so he could see himself. He ran his hands through his stubbly hair like primping had been his object all along, then winked at her.
“How do I look?”
“Like you’re ready to raise Cain,” she snapped.
He chuckled, righting her mirror. “I’ve changed. My troublemakin’ days are behind me, darlin’. I protect and serve now.”
“I’d sooner trust a fox with a chicken.”
“Yup. Still mad as a wet hen,” he said, grinning at her, wishing he wasn’t enjoying himself quite so much.
She flinched just slightly at his teasing—just the barest narrowing of her eyes before taking a deep breath and turning away from him. “Welcome home, Cain,” she said again without looking at him.
Then she raised the window and pulled her car forward, leaving him in quiet darkness once again.
Chapter 8
Ginger
“Trainee McHuid, you have a call on line one. Please make it quick.”
Nurse Arklett, whom Ginger and all the other LPN student trainees called Nurse Ratched behind her back, gave Ginger a stern look before turning and walking away. Ginger patted Mr. Humphreys on the arm, placed the book of Roald Dahl stories she’d been reading on his bedside table, and made her way to the nurses’ station on the fifth floor of the Silver Springs Care Center.
As a student at Apple Valley Community College and a practical trainee at SSCC, she wasn’t permitted to have a phone on her person while she worked her shifts at the nursing home, lest it ring and wake or startle one of the residents, so she’d given her parents and friends the number at Silver Springs for emergencies only. Her mother, however, included picking up a bottle of milk on her list of emergencies. Nurse Ratched knew it and disapproved mightily of such misuse of privilege, though it was hard to say anything because, ever since Ginger’s grandmother had become a resident of Silver Springs, her parents were its most generous patrons.
Tanya at the nurses’ station gave Ginger a sympathetic look as she handed her the phone.
“This is Ginger.”
“Honey, it’s Momma.”
Ginger lowered her voice. “Momma, you’re not supposed to call me at work!”
“I know it. But I have such good news. I knew you’d want to know right away!”
She huffed softly. “What is it?”
“It’s Woodman. He’s home.”
Her lips parted in surprise, and she turned her back to Tanya for a bit of privacy. “Wait, what?”
“Woodman. He’s home, honey. Just got in half an hour ago. Sophie called to tell me.”
“But he wasn’t due home for another week.”
“Well, he got a ride home ahead of schedule.” Her mother’s voice changed from excited to reproachful. “With Cain.”
If the news that Woodman was home a week early had thrown Ginger for a loop, the notion that Cain was, after three long years, back in Apple Valley nearly fried her brain.
“C-Cain?” she whispered, her heart lurching at the same time her stomach flipped over. “Cain’s home?”