Chapter 59 Ginger
Ginger
The boys are finally resting in their rooms after a long day at a local water park, and I’m back in the leggings I slept in, holding a lukewarm mug of coffee.
There’s a knock at the door. Firm and insistent.
I set down my mug on the coffee table and crack the door open halfway, expecting maybe a neighbor or a package delivery.
But it’s neither of those things.
Hutch stands there, looking like he’s been through hell. His hair is a mess, signature bun a little lopsided, shirt wrinkled, clutching a manilla envelope like it’s a lifeline.
He looks…wrecked. Like the weight of everything we did together, said to one another, the reasons he gave for pushing me away are written all over his face.
“Hey,” he says, voice low and rough.
I tighten my grip on the door. “Hey.”
He swallows hard. “I hope it’s okay that I’m here.”
I don’t move the door any wider. “Why are you here, Hutch?”
His eyes catch mine, and he stands there for a moment, like he’s trying to find the right words. Finally, he says, “I miss you.”
The words land hard. I want to tell him to leave. I want to close the door, but I don’t. I can’t.
“You look beautiful,” he adds, voice breaking slightly.
I swallow the lump in my throat. “You said I deserved someone solid. Someone who wouldn’t let me and the boys down.”
I don’t know why I jump straight to that—maybe because it’s all I’ve been able to think about. He was so sure that day. So final.
So if that’s true, what is he doing here?
He nods, voice barely above a whisper. “I know. I was trying to be honest. I thought pushing you away was what you needed.”
He glances down at the envelope in his hands, then holds it out to me.
“I’ve been working on something.”
I drop my eyes to the rolled-up pages and take them from him, my hands trembling.
“It’s a cabin,” he says quickly. “Other side of the lake.”
My brows pull together. “A cabin?”
He nods again, swallowing hard. “I want to show you I’m trying. That I’m sorry.”
He takes a shaky breath, eyes searching mine.
“I know a cabin doesn’t fix what I broke. I was a coward, Ginger. I was scared—of failing you, of failing the boys. Scared of how much I wanted this. You. Them. And you were right; instead of stepping up, I ran.”
He scrubs a hand over his face, frustrated. “I told myself I was doing the right thing, that pushing you away was some kind of noble sacrifice. But that was bullshit. It wasn’t noble. It was selfish. It was easier to let you go than risk screwing it all up.”
He pauses, then looks at me like he’s afraid of what I’ll say.
“I hated myself for it the second you walked out of the shop. I told myself you'd be better off. That the boys would forget me. But I haven’t slept right since. I haven’t had a day where I didn’t hear your voice in my head.”
He pauses, swallowing hard, eyes darkening with something like shame.
“I saw Sarah and her parents, the same day I was supposed to meet you at the ranch. Everything just…broke inside me. I wasn’t prepared to face that.
It ripped open old wounds I thought I’d buried.
The things they said… Fuck, it was like I was less than a piece of gum stuck to the bottom of their shoe.
Maybe I deserved that. Maybe worse. Their words gutted me—made me question everything I thought I knew about myself.
I left that place feeling like I wasn’t worthy of anything real. Like I wasn’t worthy of you.”
I blink, stunned. I had no idea he’d seen Sarah—or that she was in Timber Forge.
The hurt in his voice is raw and real, and suddenly the distance between us feels smaller, like I’m seeing him—really seeing him, for the first time, maybe ever.
I want to reach out to tell him it’s okay to be scared.
But all I can do is hold the door a little tighter, hoping, wishing it could be enough.
“I thought I was fine. That it was just a thing that happened, and I’d moved on. But I didn’t.” He swallows, searching my face. “I buried it. Buried her. And the part of me that felt anything real. So when it came to you, I didn’t know how to be whole. I only knew how to lose.”
The weight of everything between us presses down—his mistakes, my fears, his fears, the silence, the distance he put there.
He gestures to the envelope I’m still holding. “This cabin... It's me trying to rebuild what I broke. It's me saying I want a future. Not just the idea of one, but a real one, with you and the boys.”
His voice drops, raw and unguarded. “I don’t deserve another shot, I know that. But I’m asking anyway.”
“I’m supposed to go to Seattle next week,” I say softly. “To look at apartments.”
Pain flickers across his features as his jaw tightens. “Is that what you really want?”
“I don’t know,” I admit, “but I have to figure out a future for me and the boys. With or without you.”
He nods, weariness flickering in his eyes. Then he draws in a breath and straightens a little. “I’m not giving up.”
I step back, closing the door enough to put space between us.
“I need time, Hutch.” I lean against the door, clutching the envelope like it might hold me together.
“I’m begging you, Ginger. I love you.” He scrubs a hand over his face, and when his eyes meet mine again, they’re desperate. “Fuck. I know I have no right to ask this, but please don’t shut me out.”
He’s begging me not to do what he did to me, and it’s like a knife in my belly.
I step back a little, heart pounding. “Hutch…I love you. I always will. But right now, I need time. I wish I could tell you everything’s fine, but I can’t. I don't trust you with my heart, not anymore.”
He nods slowly, swallowing hard. His eyes darken with something I can’t quite place. Acceptance, maybe.
“I get it,” he says quietly. “I’ll earn your trust and fight for us. You deserve that. If that means waiting, I’ll wait a lifetime, Ginger.”
Tears well in my eyes but I refuse to let them fall. The weight of his words hitting me like a train. And he stands there on the step, heart ripped out of his chest, offering it to me, and holding onto hope.
I nod and then close the door, the weight of everything between us pressing in, heavy and unresolved.