33. Ginger
33
GINGER
I t’s been a couple of days. I’m less nauseous but still feeling rundown. My sleep hasn’t been great, but that might be due to the fact that I haven’t talked to anyone but Gracie since my meltdown.
She seems to know that something’s wrong, but isn’t asking me about it. Sitting in the passenger seat, she sings along to the radio, but she’s not dancing like she usually does. Her big art project is due today.
It came out so beautifully that I cried when she showed it to me. Probably her first clue that her momma isn’t functioning normally.
I squeeze her hand and lean in for a kiss as I drop her off at school. “I can’t wait to hear what your teacher has to say about that landscape you painted. It’s gorgeous.”
“Thanks, Mom.” And Gracie slips out of my car, leaving me stuck for a minute before someone honks. I wave my apologies before pulling out of line and taking my time getting back home.
There’s nothing to do. I’m just wallowing in my empty house, battling the intrusive, circling thoughts of raising another child all on my own. When I make my nest on my couch, it’s like an invisible weight slams down to pin me in place.
My phone buzzes a few times with morning texts. It’s mom asking if I need anything. Ashley sending his customary, Morning, beautiful . I miss hearing him say it.
Jackson calls in the afternoon, but I don’t answer.
I’m staring out the back sliding glass door when Dad knocks and lets himself in.
He looks tired, the circles under his eyes a little darker than usual, his mouth set in a grim line, the furrow of his brow deeper. Dad carries a paper bag to my kitchen counter before he comes to sit with me on the couch.
I don’t fight him when he pulls me into his side and wraps an arm around me. He smells like hay and horses and sunshine.
A little of my fear and anxiety evaporates having him hold me like this.
When he takes a deep breath, I know he’s going to ask me about the guys. “Tell me they didn’t take advantage of you.”
“They didn’t.” My voice is so small it doesn’t sound like mine. I’m being really convincing, but I have no energy left for my usual confidence.
“And that’s something you want?” Dad’s voice turns gruff, and he clears his throat gently.
“It is.” That confession eases more of my anxieties because I do want to be with them, even though I’m sure they’ll change their minds when they find out I’m pregnant.
God, story of my life.
He nods and squeezes me tighter, but I’m not sure I’ve convinced him. Not his fault. I’m not myself, which means I can’t blame him for questioning my answers. Still, he’s not lecturing me, not yelling, not looking at me like the whore of Babylon.
He didn’t overreact when I got pregnant with Gracie at sixteen. Never once has he called me a derogatory name for my mistake. Nearly eight years later, it certainly doesn’t feel like a mistake. Not with how wonderful my daughter has turned out.
No one can argue with me about that fact.
The same will be true with my new baby. They’ll be wonderful and worth all of the grief that comes with being a single mom.
I sigh and deflate further against Dad’s side. He drops a kiss on the top of my head.
“I brought you a fried chicken sandwich and mac n cheese. Mom says you haven’t been eating.”
I shake my head. Besides the morning sickness, I’ve never been good at eating when my emotions are so out of my control.
“From Leonardo’s?” I ask, my mouth watering just enough to get my stomach revving.
“You bet. Extra pickles on the side.”
My dad is the sweetest man to ever live. Or maybe I’m biased. I don’t think I am. I smile up at him, and he smiles back, prodding me to my feet and following after me. He lays out the food as I get the plates, and we eat standing at the counter.
Neither of us says anything until I devour most of my food. It helps. I feel more myself than I have in days.
Dad clears his throat again. “Have you talked with them?”
I shake my head.
“You should. Maybe think about taking them up on their offer to let you work from home.”
Sighing, I shrug. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
“They’ve stopped by here at least once a day since.”
I lift my brow. “And they’ve left alive? You’re losing your edge, Dad.”
He offers me a small smile. “I will kill them if they hurt you. Drop their bodies in the woods where we like to camp and call it a hiking accident.”
That pulls a small, incredulous laugh out of me. “I don’t doubt it for a second. There’s no need.”
At least, not yet.
A queasy gurgle turns my stomach halfway through my mac n cheese. Dad’s big, warm hand finds my back, rubbing in circles. I’m flashed back to being ten with the flu. Mom couldn’t deal with the vomiting, so Dad sat vigilantly at my bedside for two days until I could keep solid food down.
“You seem tired, honey.”
I nod, willing my stomach not to revolt. Leonardo’s was too good to waste this way. After a few minutes, I’m able to stand upright again without the threat of my lunch coming back up.
“What really happened? Is it worse than they told me?” The worry in my dad’s eyes breaks my heart.
“It’s not. It could have been, but it wasn’t.”
Dad grumbles. “That’s not making me feel much better.”
“He said some nasty things. They hurt more than the groping did.” His intent to take what he wanted scared me. If Sawyer hadn’t been there…
I shake the thought away. There’s no use in thinking about what might have happened. It didn’t. And I should be thankful for that.
“Ginger.” The way he said my name is filled with so many things.
I sigh and just blurt it out. “He grabbed my boob, Dad. And covered my mouth when I tried to scream. I couldn’t push him off.”
Red crawled up his neck and onto his face, anger flashing and turning my dad into a new creature. I place my hand on his forearm and squeeze.
“He scared me more than he hurt me.”
“He would have hurt you.”
Feeling the fear of it for the hundredth time, I nod. “But like the guys promised you when they hired me, they kept me safe. Okay?”
It sounds true enough, and I can’t argue that it isn’t. They can’t keep me safe from what’s happening now.
“I’m going to nail him to the wall.”
“He’s really not worth it, Dad. Let Sheriff Bentley take care of it.”
My dad’s turned into a bull, seeing red and ready to charge, but after a few breaths, he calms down again.
Good, another disaster averted.
Now, if only I can turn my life around and figure out what to do with myself. I can’t let Dad see how much I’m still freaking out inside.
Dad packs away the leftovers in the fridge as I sink back into my couch. How do I tell him the worst bit of this all? That all of my protections, my precautions, led me right back to how I’d fucked my life up all those years ago.
Obsessed with an older man, I was taken by his bad boy clothes, his charming smile, and his motorcycle. Phil had been nineteen, and I didn’t once question why he was flirting with me. I’d just turned sixteen when my friends and I were out at the local burger place to meet Stacy’s new boyfriend, Ralph.
I’d made fun of his name until he pulled up on a Harley with his friend. The leather jacket and his good looks did something crazy to my teenage hormones.
And by God, when he smiled at just me—I couldn’t believe he wanted anything to do with me.
Dean made me feel special, wanted. He made me feel like the woman I desperately wanted to be, especially after being compared all my life to my mom’s grace and beauty.
The first three weeks of our whirlwind romance had been my best-kept secret until Ralph broke it off with Stacy for not putting out. I couldn’t lose Phil, so when he said he’d make it special for me, I gave him my virginity.
Four weeks—that’s all it took for him to con me out of something so precious.
The worst part was that he’d made me fall in love with him. After the first time, I saw him a handful more times, but they were rushed and focused on fucking until I found out I was pregnant.
Then, he was gone. Poof, like a magic trick.
I found out weeks and weeks later that his name wasn’t even Phil. It was a nickname. And I had no way to find him.
Not even with Dad’s help.
Now it’s going to happen again. Only it’ll be worse this time.