Ginny could only nod. She sniffed, pulled away, and turned to Blaire. “I, um… Please tell my sisters I just wasn’t feelin’ well. I don’t wanna ruin the fun, but I… I have to go.”
She turned, with Chloe—keys in hand—and fled.
“Do you wanna talk about it?” Chloe asked after a silent ride back to Good Start. One where Ginny had plenty of time to stew in the stream of awful choices she’d made.
“I did something really, really crappy, Chloe. Something I can’t take back, and I probably ruined exactly what I’ve wanted for years, because I wasn’t brave enough to just tell the truth.”
“And you can’t tell the truth now?”
“Oh, I can.” She wiped tears from her cheeks and looked up at her loft window where the lamp she’d left on glowed in the darkness. “I know I have to, and I intend to. It’s just big, and I'm… scared. I’m afraid I ruined things.”
Chloe hummed her agreement and to Ginny’s surprise, grabbed her hand like her sisters or Sadie would. “There’s never a wrong time to tell the truth, Ginny. Never anything you walk yourself into that the Lord—in His strength—can’t pull you out of. But I sure know how hard it can be to face something that feels insurmountable, and I hope you know you don’t have towalk through it alone.” She gave her hand a squeeze. “Why don’t I pray for you right now, and then we can meet up next week and talk. If you want? If you don’t want to, I’ll hand you an iced americano with one pump of pistachio syrup, a sprinkled cookie, and send you on your way.”
“I’d love that.”
“Good. Me too.”
“Do you have plans now? You could hang if you want?” Ginny offered, not entirely feeling like company but not necessarily wanting to go inside alone.
“Nah. I think you better take some time for yourself. But why don’t I check in on you in the mornin’? Y’all have the pumpkin patch pictures tomorrow, right?”
Ginny had forgotten all about their family photos, meaning Dakota and Sadie would be home tomorrow afternoon. “Yeah. The morning would be great. Thanks again, Chloe.”
“‘Course.” She smiled gently and then prayed for clarity and strength for Ginny in whatever it was she was facing. She didn’t ask for details or press for more information. She was simplythere. Available and close. And because of that—knowing she could call Chloe, her sisters, Sadie, her parents or Dakota, or most assuredly, that she could approach Jesus one on one and know He was nearer than them all—Ginny didn’t feel alone as she entered her quiet studio.
She showered and dressed in her softest jammies, keeping the lights low and letting a Civil Wars record play softly in the small space. Just as she slipped under her favorite, coziest blanket on the couch, resigning herself to pray through the night, a knock sounded at the door.
Ginny smiled to herself, betting Chloe had decided to come up after all, and whipped open the door. “I didn’t think—”
Ryan stood toe to toe with her, hand frozen in the air, still wearing the fitted black joggers and purple-sleeved baseball tee he’d had on all night.
“Hi,” he said, concern etched across his face. “Blaire said you were sick, and I wanted to check in on you.”
“I, uh… I wasn’t… feeling well.” She fumbled with what to say, too caught up in Ryan’s scent and the way she didn’t know whether to jump into his strong arms or to confess everything, then and there, before another word was spoken between them.
“Are you okay now?”
She nodded, wordlessly.
Tell him.Ginny pumped herself up silently.Tell him now.
Before she could act, Ryan moved forward and tugged lightly on her wet curls. “Your curls drive me crazy. You’re… you’re so beautiful, Gin.”
My, my, my wasn’t Ryan Hood suddenly quite the talker tonight.
Tell him!
“I wanted to dance with you. At the wedding,” he confessed, kissing her cheek. “And tonight.” He kissed the other side.
“You did?”
“I really did. I’ve regretted not dancing with you so much. That night, I talked myself out of stealing you from Captain America—”
“Liam.”
“I don’t care what his name was Ginny. Only that he wasn’t me.” He took her arms and wrapped them around his neck and let his hands trail down the length of her sides, landing on her waist. “I wanted to dance then. I want to dance with you at Homecoming next week. And… tonight… I wanted to dance with you under the stars and in front of everyone tonight, Ginny, but you left, and I’m thinkin’ maybe we should rectify that right—”
He paused, looking up and somewhere behind her. “Is that… the Civil Wars?”
