Chapter 58 Hutch
Hutch
I’ve called twice. Texted four times; the first text left on read.
No response. No read receipts since. Nothing. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out.
She blocked me.
I could call Wren. Ask her if she’s heard from her and if she’s okay. But that wouldn’t be fair. I lost the right to ask about Ginger when I let her walk away, like she wasn’t the only person who’s ever felt like home.
Yeah, that’s a solid kick to the balls.
But I can hardly blame her.
It feels like someone ripped the floor from under me, and I’ve been free-falling ever since.
I miss her laugh. Miss the way she looks at me like I’m more than cocky jokes and one-night stands. Like maybe I’m not as fucked up as I thought.
But I didn’t follow her when she left. I didn’t fight for her. I watched her walk away from me like it didn’t matter. Like I didn’t care.
I couldn’t exactly undo the past. I couldn’t erase the way I’d acted, how I’d backed away every time she tried to get close. She deserved more than what I’d been willing to give. More than what I could give. At the time, at least.
God, I’d hated hurting her. I never set out for things to happen the way they did. I wanted her, still. But wanting someone doesn’t automatically make you deserving of them. And I wasn’t ready then. I was scared and confused.
And now?
I want to be the guy who sticks to his commitments. I want to be worthy of a woman like Ginger. I don’t know if that will ever happen, but I have to try.
I want to try.
I stare at the plans on the screen in front of me.
I’ve tweaked them a million fucking times, wanting everything to be perfect.
A huge master with enough room for all her clothes and shoes—even the ridiculous ones that have no business walking around Timber Forge.
Two identical loft bedrooms for the boys.
Massive floor-to-ceiling windows and a porch that wraps all the way around to the back of the house.
A place where we could sit and have coffee in the mornings, or watch the boys play in the water in the afternoons.
A dark room off the back hallway. A place just for her, so she can get back to her love of photography and find herself again.
I don’t know if she even wants that. If she even wants me.
But I can’t shake the thought. And if I’m ever going to be worthy of her, I have to start somewhere.
Setting the printer to the correct paper size, I set it to print and then toggle over to the screen with my flight information listed.
The printer whirs to life while I pull out an envelope, hope sparking in my belly.
I’m swamped at work, but I have to do this. But a couple of days work missed isn’t much in the grand scheme of things.
I don’t know if she’ll even see me. Hell, she might tell me to get fucked and slam the door in my face.
And I’d deserve that.
But I have to try.