Chapter 9
GOOD GINNY HURTING
Declan
I know I shouldn’t race after Ginny, but it’s exactly what I’m doing.
“Ginny, wait,” I say as I catch up to her while she runs away from the barn.
“Go away,” she replies.
“I didn’t do it. I didn’t leak. It wasn’t me.”
She has to know.
She has to know that I wouldn’t do it.
“Save it. We’re canceling your documentary, and you can suck grass.”
I jog beside her. “Your mother needed a scapegoat.”
“What the fuck do you know about what my mother needs?”
The shrieks and squawks of the chicken army get softer the deeper we get into the grapevines between the working buildings and the pink Victorian mansion where Ginny lives.
“I haven’t told anyone I’m here. I wouldn’t.”
“Go away.”
“I didn’t want her to ruin your day.”
She stops short, panting.
I stop too.
She plants two hands on my chest and shoves. “Go away.”
I let her push me, backing up four big steps. “Okay. Okay. I’m going. But I swear to you, it wasn’t me. I didn’t do it.”
“I don’t care.”
That slices deeper than I’m willing to admit.
But it’s the shine in her eyes as she glares at me from beneath an oversize red rain jacket that has my gut twisting.
“I’m sorry,” I say, softer.
“Do you have any idea what it’s like to have the worst parts of your teenage years broadcast for the world to see, and then to do something so incredibly stupid as an adult that just proved all of the haters right, only to have it come back over and over and over again?”
I shake my head.
“Then don’t come at me with your fake I’m sorries and I didn’t do its. I don’t fucking care. I just want to live my life without all of this. Okay?”
My heart freezes over and shatters into a million shards of ice.
I’ll fix this.
I’ll protect her.
I’ll solve the problems.
I might not be in the rink, but I’m ready to go full enforcer to shield her from the world.
But she doesn’t want me.
And she shouldn’t.
All she knows of me is that I was a complete dick for all of the years we knew each other.
So I nod. “Sure. Sure. I get it.”
“Don’t placate me.”
“You got a shit hand. No arguments. You deserve peace. Not—not all of this.”
“Stop placating me.”
I take another step back, hands held up. “Sorry.”
She snorts and glares. “This nice Declan thing won’t work on me.”
“Do you want me to be mean?”
“Yes.”
“That raincoat looks like shit on you.”
“Thank you.”
“You couldn’t score a goal if your mommy held the stick for you.”
Her nostrils flare. “Go on. What else do you have?”
I swallow hard, hating myself. “You were all wrong for him.”
She blinks rapidly, her chest heaving. “I know.”
It’s another beautiful day.
Fluffy white clouds. Blue sky. Green grapevines.
And watching Ginny bare her soul with those two little words makes it all dark and dreary and wrong.
“Ginny—”
“I know, okay? I always knew. I’m a fucked-up former child reality star who doesn’t deserve good things.”
I would go to the edges of the universe to find the right words to convince her that all of the lessons her mother gave her in her most emotionally vulnerable years were wrong.
“You didn’t do that to yourself.” My voice is hoarse, and I know she won’t listen to me.
I gave up any chance at having her believe me the day I decided to push her away instead of finding a way to like her and be nice to her.
But I still have to try. “The people who should’ve protected you failed you. ”
“Shut up,” she whispers.
“If it makes you feel better to fight, we’ll fight. But it’s not your fault your mother put you on that show. She was the adult. She should’ve known better.”
Tears spill onto her cheeks. “I hate you.”
I nod. “You should. I was a dick.”
“Stop saying the right things.”
“You deserved better than the way I treated you.”
“I said shut up.” She swipes at her cheeks, and this time, when she turns and sprints, I don’t follow.
I want to.
I want to so badly that my legs cramp with the effort that it takes to hold still.
My breathing is rough and uneven.
My eyes are wet too.
Who could she have been if she hadn’t had to prove her worth to the people who should’ve accepted and loved her for who she is?
Mabel steps beside me as Ginny’s red raincoat bobs through the vines, getting closer and closer to the house.
“Are you the leak?” she asks.
“No. Never.”
“Why’d you say it was you?”
“Fuck knows Freida wouldn’t admit it was her. Thought she’d leave faster if she could go tell the press it was me.”
She blinks once behind her glasses. “Hmm.”
“I hate her.”
“You hate Ginny?”
“No.” I swallow the never on the tip of my tongue. She wouldn’t believe me any more than Ginny would. “I hate Freida.”
She continues to study me, as if that’ll make me break and confess everything.
“Is she leaving?” I say instead.
Mabel almost smirks. “Did you know she’s allergic to chickens?”
“You set them loose?”
“I would’ve if I’d thought of it first.”
Ginny reaches the house, and I watch as she darts up the porch steps and disappears into it.
She’s safe.
She’s where she’s happy.
Good.
“I need a solid reason that we should let you keep filming,” Mabel says.
I sigh and rub my chin. “I make a mean oatmeal walnut chocolate chip cookie.”
She tilts a sideways glance at me, blinking quickly as she studies me harder.
And then—then there it is.
The soft “Oh” of understanding.
I can’t look Mabel in the eye. I want my dog, but Flow’s in doggy daycare today. “I wouldn’t hurt her.”
She doesn’t answer, but instead glances back at the barn, then nods once to me. “Don’t leave. I need to talk to my family.”
I don’t care if they tear up my contract.
I just want Ginny to be okay.