33. Chapter 33
Chapter 33
Ginny
I watch Joker go, wanting to call him back, but needing him to figure out why all this happened and who the man I almost married was.
“Is it okay if Trish stays?” Claire asks, pulling a chair up to the bedside.
“Yeah, as long as she promises not to be mad at me?” I know I look guilty, and I know I can ask, but she’s going to be mad at me.
“I promise I’ll try not to yell at you while you’re in the hospital.” She grins.
“I think that’s probably fair,” I agree.
“So, I think tonight we need to focus on what happened earlier today and how you’re doing.”
“Just jumping right on into that therapy session then, aren’t we?”
“You’ve been to therapy before. I mean, I’m sure your therapist wasn’t as wonderful a human as I am, but it also means you know how it goes. I ask a question, you answer, and we go from there. Or we can not talk about anything and I can just be your friend.”
“Can we do both?” I ask.
“Sure. I’ve been known to be strictly a friend before.”
I laugh. “You’re really bad at not being a therapist, you know that?”
“What can I say? I’m worried about you and have my brain shrinker hat on.”
“I really do appreciate the honesty. And if I knew how I was feeling after today, I’d tell you for sure, but the only thing I can think of is how people are going to call me a serial killer now. That happens when you’ve got more than one dead body on your hands, right?”
“Is there guilt?” she asks gently, ignoring the killer part.
“No. That’s part of the problem. I feel guilty that Lucas got hurt.” I look at Trish. “I feel guilty that Lottie and Nat could have been hurt, or Elle. But I have no guilt over that weirdo or Keith. With Keith, I almost feel relief. He will never hurt me again. He will never hit me, or raise his voice, or make me feel less than. He will never hurt the people I love, and he won’t ever be able to hurt any more students.”
“What you said earlier about the kids was really generous of you. You lost something really special, didn’t you?”
“I lost my cello. Not my life. This is going to ruin these kids’ futures. And if I can keep at least that off their record, it might help.”
“Can I ask what the cello meant to you?”
I share a look with Trish. She might be the only one who realizes how much it hurt that it’s been destroyed.
“It meant everything.” I give her a sad smile. “My dad gave it to me as a gift.”
“Tell her all of it,” Trish pushes.
I sigh. “He gave it to me before my first professional performance. I was twelve and had just grown three inches. I went from a three-quarter size to a full-size and needed a new one. The orchestra I was playing with was going to let me use one of theirs for the performance, but Dad showed up with the Eastman. It was a huge step up in quality from what I had. I’ve carried it with me everywhere since.”
“Wow.” Claire blows out a breath. “That’s a hard loss.”
“It hurts,” I admit. “But at the end of the day, it’s a thing.”
“How do you feel about people?”
“I don’t know. It depends on the people, I guess?”
“Explain that.”
“My friends and my family are my world. My students. I learned a long time ago that not everyone cares about you or loves you as much as you might love them. But my people? I know they love me.”
“Is that why you hid the extent of what happened to you in New York?”
“How do you know what happened?”
“I told her. When I found out I was pregnant.” Trish comes over to the bed to hold my hand. “I was so worried that you would be upset that I was afraid to tell you. I didn’t want to break your heart again.”
“She reached out to me and I told her to suck it up and tell you.” Claire smiles at me, making me laugh.
“Good thing, too. I’d have been really mad at you for keeping that secret.”
“But you’re still keeping secrets, aren’t you?” Claire asks.
I stare at her and then at Trish. I bite my lip and can feel the tears welling up. I nod.
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want to hurt them or make them mad? Because I’m embarrassed and felt worthless for so long that I didn’t think I deserved anything else? Because at the end of the day, I was afraid Keith was right and bad shit kept happening when I was around and they wouldn’t love me anymore, so why give them ammo to get rid of me?”
“Oh, Ginny.” Trish sits down on the bed and leans over to hug me, tears in her eyes. “We aren’t mad. And if we are, it’s at him. We knew what he was doing. We just didn't know how bad it was.”
“But you never—”
“We tried. But you would always shut down or change the subject or leave.”
“You did try, didn’t you?” I ask, already knowing she’s being honest with me. She told me after the first date.
“We did. But at the end of the day, it was your life, and only you could make the decision about what you wanted. And since we didn’t have proof of him hurting you, only our suspicions, there wasn’t a lot we could do.”
“All of you?”
She nods, a sad look on her face. “All of us. We all talked about it at some point, out of worry for you.”
“I wish you all had been a little more pushy.” I give her a half-hearted smile.
“Well, if Joker ever becomes an asshole—more than he already is—we’ll speak up. Deal?”
I laugh, knowing Joker isn’t really an asshole, and reply to her. “Deal.”
“Are you going to be okay?” Trish asks. “I don’t want to bring it up, but—”
“But I killed a man?” I ask quietly.
“Yeah, that.”
“Is it wrong to say I think I will be? I don’t know how tonight is going to go, or even next week, but yeah, I think I’ll be alright.”
“I feel like my work here is done.” Claire blows on her fingers like she’s hot stuff. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m not leaving. Not for a few days, at least. But I think you just unloaded a lot, and it’ll take a day or so to really hit you.”
“Thanks, Claire.” I smile at her. “Thanks for being here.”
“If Daniel or any of his guys asks, I’m always happy to help.”
We chat for a few minutes, and the exhaustion is starting to kick in when the guys come back, minus Sammy. Trish gets Davis to admit it’s time to go home, and they take Claire with them. She’s going to stay with them for a couple of days and spend time with the kids, but will be with me during the days. I guess this is what you’d call intensive ambush therapy. If she wasn’t like a favorite aunt, I’d probably throw a fit, but she fits in like family, and there’s nothing wrong with more family, is there?
“You ready to try to get some sleep?” Joker asks when it’s just the two of us.
“Depends,” I tell him.
“And what does it depend on?”
“If you think your skinny ass can fit in this bed with my big one.”
He growls at me. “Your ass is fucking perfect.”
And then he does indeed get his fine ass in the bed with me and he holds me tight, keeping me safe all night long.