Page 148 of When It's Us
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—reallyseeing 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. Buriedher. 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,hisfears, 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.
Ginger
We’vebeeninSeattlethree days. The rain has been coming down in a steady drizzle pretty much non-stop. It’s not even the rainy season yet, and I feel like I can’t get warm; everything has a dampness that makes me want to crawl out of my skin. I never thought I’d miss the near ninety-degree temps of California this time of year, but I crave the warmth of the sun like never before.
I’ve toured six apartments, three with the boys, three without. They aren’t happy here. The whole thing feels like a study in futility because every new place I walk into feels wrong. Even the newly renovated, two bedroom advertised as ‘with lots of natural light’, felt small and closed in. Clearly the woman has never been outside an overcrowded city.
This weekend has left me with a bone deep weariness, and it doesn’t help that all I can think about are wide open spaces and pine trees for as far as the eye can see or that the boys seem to be just as stuck on Montana as I am.
I stare at the dark and stormy afternoon, reflecting on our conversation yesterday. I’d finished talking to the realtor and setting up an appointment to look at one last apartment. I let out a long sigh, dropping onto the bed.
“Are you sad, Mom?” Jordan asked from where he lay on one of the queen beds in the room.
“Just tired,” I say and give him a reassuring smile.
“Looking for a place to live sucks,” Jordan says, startling a surprised bark of laughter from me.
