Chapter 62 Hutch
Hutch
I’ve been working so long I don’t feel my arms anymore. Just the burn in my shoulders and the ache in my hands—raw palms, calloused and worn, and a scab on the knuckle of my left thumb that keeps reopening.
I keep the music loud, like always. Something old and rough, playing off my phone in the corner. It keeps my mind occupied. The quiet between songs is unwelcome. Thankfully, the chuff and scrape of the metal putty knife against the pan, then the drywall, fills in the blanks.
I turn to grab another glob of mud from the five-gallon bucket at my feet and freeze.
Standing inside the doorway is Ginger.
I swear to Christ, my heart stops. Then pounds so hard it feels like it’ll split my ribs wide open. I drop the drywall knife, the plastic and metal hitting the floor with a dull clatter.
“Fuck, I–” I swallow, my throat tight. “If this is a hallucination, I gotta say, my subconscious is a real bastard.”
She looks tired. Cautious. Like maybe she isn’t here to fall back into my arms.
Her eyes flick around the room, landing on all the dust, tools, and unfinished bits—the walls half mudded, the wires still exposed, and the smell of sawdust and insulation clinging to the air. A mess. My mess. The thing I’ve poured everything into for months, still not done.
“It’s not exactly finished yet,” I say, rubbing a hand down my face, then scratching at my chin. I huff out a quiet laugh. “I guess it’s kind of a clusterfuck.”
When I look back up, there’s something in her eyes—a flicker. Something soft. It’s enough.
“I’m hoping it’ll feel like a home someday.”
She doesn’t move. Doesn’t smile. Just watches me with that calm, steady gaze that knocks me off balance—like she’s leaving it up to me. Tell the truth or blow it all over again.
“I’ve practiced this,” I say. “Talking to you, I mean.”
And I have. Out loud, in my head, a hundred different ways.
“It never came out right.”
Her lips part, but she doesn’t speak. I fill the silence.
“I fucked up.” My voice is low—heavy with regret. “Not only the night you left. Long before that. I held back, thinking I wouldn't break it if I didn’t lean too hard on us. But I did. I broke it anyway.”
I step toward her, slow, steady. “You gave me everything. And I made you feel like it wasn’t enough. When you needed me to let you in, really in, I froze. I was a coward.”
Her eyes go glassy and her bottom lip trembles. It wrecks me.
“I love you,” I say roughly, “but that doesn’t mean much if I don’t back it up. And I didn’t. I pushed you away to protect myself, and I hate that. If I could take it back—” I shake my head. “But I can’t.”
She breathes in sharply, a half-sob catching in her throat.
I don’t reach for her. Not yet. She deserves more than an apology. She deserves the truth.
“I’m not whole without you, Ginger. I want you back. Not just because I love you. But because I see you. All of it. Everything you carry. And I won’t let you carry it alone anymore.”
A tear spills down her freckled cheek.
“I didn’t get it before,” I admit. “I was scared. But now? When things are hard, when everything falls apart…if it’s me and you, it still feels right.”
I meet her eyes, hoping she can hear the determination in my voice. “I won’t fuck it up again.”
She blinks, tears falling freely now. “I read every one of your emails.”
Relief slams into me and I almost sag. “Yeah?”
She nods, swiping at her cheeks. Her voice is raw when she finally speaks. “You shut me out, Hutch. You made me feel like I didn’t matter.”
“I know. But you’re everything to me,” I whisper, “and I’m sorry. I swear to Christ, I’m so damn sorry. I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure you never doubt that again.”
She steps forward, close enough to touch, and reaches for me first.
“I missed you,” she breathes.
“I missed you, too,” I tell her, our mouths centimeters apart. “And you’re mine. You and those boys. Have been since day one. I just didn’t know it yet.”
Her breath ghosts over my lips, the sweetest torture I’ve ever experienced. She presses a palm flat to my chest, right over my heart.
“Next time, let me in.”
“I will,” I promise. “You already are.”
“I love you,” she says, voice breaking.
I don’t wait. I haul her in, crashing my mouth to hers. She comes willingly, a soft gasp on her lips, her arms wrapping tight around me like she never wants to let go.
We kiss for minutes, hours. Who knows? When I pull back, I rest my forehead against hers, breath shaking.
“The boys?” I ask.
She smiles, and it nearly undoes me.
“At the ranch. I told them we’d come back for Christmas. We might need to go shopping. I kind of…left everything behind.”
I let out a rough laugh, holding her tighter.
“If anyone can pull off a miracle, it’s you.”
She leans back just enough to meet my eyes, mischief tugging at her mouth.
“I don’t know,” she teases. “You somehow managed to get a California girl to move to a snowy cabin in the sticks. We might be fresh out.”
I chuckle, eyes closing for a beat before I meet her gaze again.
“You sure about this?”
She leans in, voice fierce and soft. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”