Chapter 24
P.S. I WOULD LOVE TO PROTECT YOU
Declan
Fuck, Ginny’s pretty.
Her brown hair’s curly and wild, her blue eyes dance as she whispers with Mabel and Olivia, and her sundress today hugs her hourglass figure closer in a swirly blue-and-green pattern that reminds me of a Van Gogh painting.
They’re just inside the barn, near where Freida and Pip were strung out and trying to set the place on fire the day of the wedding, but if Ginny’s thinking about that, she doesn’t show it.
My dog is sticking by her side the way I still want to be.
I’m giving her space though and chatting with Heath at the smoker outside the barn while the cat splays at my feet, making myself pay attention despite wanting to listen to Ginny’s voice, her laugh, her whispers, and soak up every minute of being this near to her that I can get while I still have the chance.
Cricket and Pip are helping Lavender fight imaginary dragons on the large concrete pad between the barn to the fermentation building.
Lav’s using a pool noodle. Pip has something else that might be a dildo, but also enough not a dildo that Heath isn’t making her put it away.
Cricket doesn’t have a weapon, just her arms and legs.
“You getting a wine named after you or Lavender?” I ask Heath.
“Absolutely not.”
“No? No Dragon Slayer Syrah?”
He slides a bland look at me. “I use all my patience with my daughter. Don’t test me by making me think about her going viral too.”
I grin. “Got it.”
He watches me while he takes a swig of beer. “Angling to have one named after you?”
“Zinfanfailure?” I say dryly.
“Zinfandildo!” Samantha exclaims from the table just inside the barn, where she’s arranging plates and silverware beside bowls of potato salad and coleslaw. “Olivia and I call Zinfandildo!”
I almost choke on my beer.
Samantha and Olivia’s viral moment had to do with an axe, a ceramic dildo, and a head wound, so I get where she’s coming from, but I wasn’t ready for Zinfandildo.
Lav pauses in slaying imaginary dragons, her nose wrinkling. “What’s a zifareldo?”
“It’s a thing that lays out fresh ice on skating rinks,” Ginny says instantly.
“No, that’s a Zamboni,” Lavender replies.
“I still like Syrah Syrah, The…Dog Bone…is Dead,” Olivia says to Samantha with a glance at Lavender, who’s still squinting at Samantha.
“Oh my god, did you see that?” Cricket says. “Lav, that dragon was purple and it had two heads.”
“So does my—” Pip starts.
Mabel clears her throat before the older woman can finish. “If dragons destroy this cookout, I’ll be very sad,” she says loudly.
Lav looks between Mabel and Pip, and then at Cricket, who fakes cowering in fear. “It’s so big, Lav! I’m scared!”
Lav instantly brandishes her pool noodle again. “Take that, bad dragon!”
“Yeah, bad dragon!” Cricket says, still shrinking like she’s terrified of an imaginary two-headed purple dragon.
I snicker softly to myself and have to turn away.
Heath’s clearly struggling to keep a straight face too.
“Aunt Pip, have you told Declan what you want to name your wine?” Mabel says.
Pip swings around and beelines toward Heath and me. She’s wearing a neon blue cheerleader-style pleated skirt that barely covers her ass and a matching bikini top, along with rhinestone-covered ankle boots and a tiara.
“Do you know Cricket had the nerve to tell me No Clothes Merlot doesn’t have a better ring than One Nip Pip Pinot Noir?” Pip says to me.
It’s inspiring as hell to see these ladies all owning their moments with the rebranded wine ideas, though I haven’t heard if Ginny’s calling a wine yet.
I hope she does.
I hope she shoves it in the world’s face.
And then I feel like a shitty friend for knowing that Alex would have to deal with it too.
Dude sent my dog a gift box since Flow can’t have chocolate and therefore didn’t get to enjoy the day of making chocolate sculptures with me.
“I didn’t say better ring, Pip,” Cricket calls while she punches and kicks the air next to Lavender, clearly over her terror now. “I said it doesn’t have the same ring. They both have rings.”
“She’s a wily one,” Pip says. “Got me drunk to trick me into agreeing to sell wine here again.”
Heath smirks. “You love her,” he says to Pip.
“You love her,” Pip shoots back.
“We both love her,” Heath says.
Pip looks at me. “So? Whose side are you on?”
“Which one would piss off your dead husband more?” I ask her.
She squints at me. “Are you playing me too now?”
“Just asking a question.”
“If Olivia and Samantha take the zinfandel, you could claim the Syrah,” Heath says. “Syrah Syrah, Dean is Dead. Put his name on it in big, bold letters.”
“I know what you’re doing too,” Pip says to Heath.
“You’re just mad that Cricket thought of One Nip Pip first.”
“Why’s Cricket putting my nip in a hearse?” Pip replies. “Where’d she find it? I haven’t seen it in—Mabel, how many years have you been here making sure I don’t burn off my other nipple?”
“Well over five, Aunt Pip,” Mabel replies.
“Roll over and die? That’s rude. Maybe I don’t want to leave my winery to you after all.”
“Well over five, Aunt Pip. I don’t want you to die. Who’d entertain me with everything you mishear?”
“Probably Cricket. She’s pretty good at that game.”
Ginny’s smiling as she watches her friends.
She’s happy here. And that’s good. She should be happy.
Everyone should be happy.
I’m happy.
Mostly.
I’d be happier if she’d smile at me like that.
Or if I could come to terms with the fact that she never will.
Her eyes suddenly cross, and she gasps as she pulls her dress away from her breasts.
“Ginny?” Mabel says.
I’m halfway to the ladies before I register that I’ve moved. “What’s wrong? What happened?”
“Spider. Spider! It’s in my boobs!” Ginny’s dancing and spinning and half reaching into the top of her dress and then grimacing and pulling her hand back out, her breath getting ragged and loud.
Fuck.
Fuck.
She hates spiders. That wasn’t an act during her On the Rhodes days, though it might’ve started then.
“Smack your boobs,” Olivia orders.
“Don’t smack your boobs, shake it out!” Samantha cries.
“Shake those titties, Ginny,” Pip croons.
“I’ve got a hose,” Cricket says, running into the barn with the hose and shoving me out of the way. “I can spray it out!”
Ginny’s gasping and dancing in a circle, bending and twisting while Flow whimper-whines and dances around her.
Every time I try to get close to her, one of the other women pushes me back.
“It’s crawling—all over—my skin,” she gasps. “Hundreds—of spiders.”
Flow barks.
“Take your dress off,” Mabel orders.
Ginny whips it over her head and throws it on the ground, but she’s still writhing and scratching and twisting.
“It’s on my back!” she shrieks.
I will slay that fucking spider. Check it into the boards. I will start a fight with it. I will murder it until it’s so murdered that its dead ancestors feel murdered all over again too.
And then I’ll hunt down her brother and give him my style of a nose job for the way he tormented her with spiders all through that one season of their show.
Olivia hip-checks me and bumps me out of the way again.
I’m a fucking beast, and these women are manhandling me like I’m no bigger than Lavender.
“I got it!” Cricket yells as she turns the hose on and aims it right at Ginny.
Ginny, who’s in nothing but skimpy pink panties and a matching bra.
Which my dick needs to not notice, but the fucker has a mind of his own.
Flow yelps and darts away as the water hits her, but Ginny spreads her arms and leans into the stream, which has to be cold, but she’s not flinching at all. “Get my back! Get my back!”
She twists.
Cricket hoses her down from all angles, so now she’s naked except for wet pink panties and a bra.
I’m panting too.
Panting like I’ve been running sprints.
Trying to get to her.
To save her, even as her shoulders sag in relief.
But Olivia and Samantha and Mabel and Dori close ranks around her now shivering body, blocking me out even more.
And I hover nearby like a useless idiot.
Like the guy that doesn’t fit into their well-oiled family machine that always seems to know what to do for each other at any given minute.
The guy who wants to help but also doesn’t want to make her uncomfortable.
The guy she’s not looking to at all for help.
“Did it bite you?” Mabel asks.
“Is it off now?” Olivia wants to know.
“Dammit, that was a new dress,” Ginny moans, teeth audibly chattering, as Lavender jumps up and down on the fabric, yelling, “Die, spider, die! Don’t hurt my Ginny!”
“You’re shaking,” Samantha says. “We need to get you inside.”
She’s cold.
She’s cold and wet and practically naked.
I yank my shirt over my head. “Here—” I start.
Olivia snatches my shirt from me before I can get any closer.
“Oh, you poor thing,” she’s saying to Ginny as they continue to block me out.
I glance back at Heath.
He’s watching the women the way I used to watch a hockey puck.
“You get bit, Ginny?” he asks.
“N-n-no,” she says.
“She’s good, Heath,” Mabel says.
She’s not good.
Her teeth are audibly clacking together.
Her breathing is still too fast.
She’s pale.
Heath pushes past me, stripping his shirt off too. “Here. Dry her off.”
He’s let into the circle.
But he pushes me further out as he joins them.
“I d-don’t have f-frostbite from th-th-three s-seconds of b-being wet,” Ginny chatters out.
“Cricket?” Heath calls.
“I found a blanket!” she says.
I didn’t even realize she’d disappeared, but there she is, running into the barn with a thick wool blanket.
“Grab Ginny a cookie for the adrenaline crash.” He drops his voice lower. “You sure it didn’t bite you?”
“It d-didn’t b-bite me,” Ginny chatters.
“And take that and that and that,” Lavender says as she smacks Ginny’s dress with her pool noodle.
I clench my fists in my pockets, feeling completely defeated as I back out of the barn, still watching Ginny and her friends as Cricket joins the group.
Mabel takes the blanket and wraps it around Ginny while Cricket holds a cookie to her mouth.
They’ve got her.
She doesn’t need me too.
I’m in the way.
Extra.
Warming the bench in a game that’s already over.
As soon as I reach the concrete pad, I accidentally make eye contact with an unfamiliar woman who’s joined us.
And she promptly bursts into tears.
“My mama loved you,” she wails.
Heath glances our way sharply, looking between me and the woman.
I look between Heath and the woman.
She has round, rosy cheeks, big eyes, a Southern accent, and she’s wearing soft pink pants and a loose black blouse. I’d guess she’s in her twenties, though she might be a little older.
“Adelaide?” I guess.
The sobs intensify. “And you know my name?”
“Way to cause a scene, dude,” Dori murmurs to me as she zips past to hug Adelaide. “Let it all out, friend.”
“You want to go back to the house?” Cricket’s asking Ginny, who’s now wearing my University of Minnesota T-shirt, which hangs down to mid-thigh on her.
Her hair’s wet, the curls curling tighter, but her skin looks mostly dry.
Olivia drops the blanket outside their circle as all of the women step back and give Ginny a little more room.
Ginny does that thing with her head where she tries to shake it and nod it at the same time. “No. Yes. I don’t, but—”
She makes eye contact with me.
“Keep the shirt,” I say. “I’ll go.”
“You don’t have to do that.” Her gaze dips to my chest, then back to my eyes. “It’s—it’s fine.”
Her teeth are still chattering and she’s still pale.
I shake my head. It’s not fine. None of this is fine.
I want to be her hero.
I want to save her from spiders and her mother and cameras and thunderstorms and fears and insecurities and anyone who would continue to judge her on who they thought she was rather than who she is.
I want to kiss her booboos.
I want to run my fingers through that curly hair and I want to make her scream my name and I want to stroke her skin while she falls asleep.
But I can’t.
For so many reasons.
“Ribs are ready,” Heath says as he leaves the group, pulling his own shirt back on. It’s streaked with damp spots. He’s wearing the water that came off of Ginny’s body, and I suddenly hate him with an intensity usually reserved for hating Freida Rhodes. “Go get plates.”
He looks at me again.
I don’t know him well enough to guess if he’s about to tell me no shirt, no service, if he likes having another guy around, or if he wants me to prep plates for all of the ladies.
“Not every day strippers serve food around here,” he says.
“Oh my lordy, you’re stripping now?” Adelaide says through tears. “My mama would’ve gone to one of your shows.”
Heath smirks.
Dori grins at me.
Adelaide sucks in a big breath and swipes at her eyes.
And I hold out a hand to Heath. “Gimme the tongs. I’ll serve.”
Can’t do much else out here.
As usual, I’m the backup line.
But at least I still get to be near Ginny.