“I missed home,” he said, trying to explain away the passionate way he’d just held her. “Of course I missed you, but I also missed my pop and Apple Valley and even McHuid’s. I missed home. I dreamed of it all the time.”
Her eyes searched his, boring into his with the familiarity of someone who’d known him his whole life. She was confused and hurt, but talking about it wouldn’t help, would only weaken his resolve. He wanted her so badly, he ached inside, but he wouldn’t take away the girl who was Woodman’s primary hope. Not when his cousin was still so goddamned hopeless.
“Friends,” he said firmly. “That’s all.”
She looked so lost, so disappointed, he couldn’t bear it, so he turned his back to her, clenching his eyes shut against the pain of keeping her at arm’s length as he crossed the kitchen and stopped at the sink. He braced his hands on the basin, his fingers clawlike on the porcelain rim. “Let me take a look at this, okay?”
“Okay, Cain,” she said softly, her voice hitching just a little.
Turning around to look at her, he saw the sadness on her face, but her sweet lips lifted up in a little smile—the first genuine one she’d offered him in three years—and his heart flooded with something big—no, huge—and warm, making it expand in his chest and thunder in his ears.
“It’s okay,” she said gently, and just like that, two little words that were common, everyday, ordinary words became his favorite because she wasn’t pushing him for something he couldn’t give, and accepting what he could.
He exhaled a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.
“I’m glad,” he said.
And despite the disappointment in her eyes, and the unsatisfied longing in his heart, he was glad. A not insignificant part of him was glad that he’d had an opportunity to betray Woodman again, and this time, he hadn’t taken it.
She nodded, her smile slipping. “I’ll, uh . . . I’ll be upstairs. Call if you need me, huh?”
Cain lay down on his back, staring up at pipes, grateful that his face was finally hidden from her. “Will do.”
***
Never having had a close woman friend, it surprised Cain how easy and fun it was for him to have a friendship with Ginger over the next few days.
As she came home with groceries on Saturday afternoon, he helped her unload her car, joking about her choices as they stacked frozen dinners in the freezer. “Remind me not to come sniffin’ around here for a home-cooked meal.”
“Ha!” she retorted. “I can make biscuits and gravy with the best of ’em! But it’s late when I come home from work, so forgive me for not whippin’ up dinner from scratch.”
He accompanied his father to Lutheran church on Sunday, running into Ginger and her parents at the Country Diner after services. While his father visited with Ranger and Miz Magnolia for a moment, exchanging pleasantries, Ginger had raised her eyes dramatically at Cain.
“Don’t tell me you were at Sunday services! Did the roof cave in?”
He rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t that bad.”
“Yes,” she said, her eyes twinkling and her voice even but not unkind, “you were.”
“Well, I didn’t see you there, Miss Virginia. People in glass houses—”
“I’m Presbyterian,” she said, grinning at him.
“Welcome home, Cain,” said Ranger McHuid, half standing to offer his hand. “Looks like the service is treatin’ you well, son.”
“Thanks, Mr. McHuid. It’s been good for me, sir.” He slid his eyes to Ginger’s mother. “Nice to see you, Miz Magnolia.”
“Why, Cain. You always were a handsome devil,” she said, simpering as he shook her hand. “Sophie said you’d . . . improved.”
Uncomfortable around Miz Magnolia, he dropped her hand quickly and shifted his eyes back to Ginger. She picked up her orange juice and sipped it to cover a giggle. When she set it down, she mouthed, “Most improved!” He felt the smile crack his face and damn near started snickering before the waitress interrupted to show him and his father to their table.
He found himself looking for her on Sunday, but they must have been running in different directions because he didn’t see her. Nor on Monday, and by Monday afternoon he realized he was missing her sweet smiles and fun banter. Taking a walk up the driveway to see if she was home, he was disappointed to see her cottage dark and wondered where she was and with whom. Before his jealousy could get out of control, however, he remembered that she’d returned home late from work last Monday evening, too, when they’d said their first hellos on the darkened driveway.
She’s at work.
She’s just at work, not with . . .
Woodman.
Except she could be with Woodman.
His jaw tightened and his fists balled at his sides right before his eyes widened in horror. Fuck. Fuck, no. He wasn’t jealous of Woodman, was he? Fuck. He was. He was jealous of anyone who got to spend time with her because he wanted her to himself.
“Aw,” he groaned, “this is no fuckin’ good.”