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 fuck 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.”
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 fuck! 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?”