by Meka James
That final question was still on my mind when I drove from Dr. Carr’s office to see Mitch. The tattoo removal was another one of those things I’d brought up on impulse that might be more for Mal’s sake than mine. He’d not said anything about it again, but he couldn’t enjoy seeing some other man’s initials every time he looked at me from behind. I ran my fingers along the center of my back. Or maybe his eyes only focused on the ugly scar. Either way, both would be gone soon enough.
The consult with Mitch had been promising. It was a little weird being shirtless around him, and the conversation about how I got the scar made it all the more uncomfortable. I’d been thankful he didn’t ask for any additional details after I’d told him Seth had caused it. Mitch was positive he could take care of them and I’d made an appointment to see him the following week.
I rounded the corner heading toward my house. Last night, Mal asked when I was ready to start the official move. I’d said whenever, but I wasn’t completely ready for it to be the very next day thanks to my lingering doubts. He’d thought it made sense seeing as how my parents would already have Shawn. It’d already been a few days since I’d agreed to move in, and putting it off for too long could have made him suspicious about my second guessing, so I went with his suggestion.
The gate to my house came to life after I hit the button. Malcolm had beat me here and stood leaning up against his car. I’d given him the code to the gate and the garage so he could have gone inside. He walked over to open my door after I’d parked.
He shut the door before giving me a quick kiss. “Hey.”
“Hey yourself. Why are you waiting out here?”
He simply shrugged. I headed toward the front door with him following behind. As I reached out to unlock the door, a roiling of nerves came over me. I paused. Things were getting real. Unlocking this door meant the end of my old life. Unlocking this door meant I was all in, and there was no turning back. No safety net or escape option.
I jumped at the contact of Mal’s hands on my hips.
“Everything okay?”
I glanced over my shoulder at him and nodded. “Yeah.”
The door opened with a soft whoosh. It’d been two weeks, but it felt like a lifetime ago. This place wasn’t home. I’d never gotten the same welcoming feeling walking into this house.
Malcolm stepped in front of me. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing.” I put my hand on his chest. He had the instant reaction to reach up and cover mine with his own. I wanted this. I wanted to be with him. I just had to stop overthinking it.
“Doesn’t look like nothing. It seems like there’s something on your mind.”
“It’s nothing, not really.”
“Not really?”
I rested my head against his chest. I thought back to my session with Dr. Carr. Malcolm wrapped his arms around me. My safe place.
“What’s wrong?”
I shrugged.
“Are you having second thoughts?”
I slid my arms up around his neck. “Not exactly.”
“O…kay”
“It’s not about not wanting to be with you. This is a total me thing.”
“You wanna talk about it?”
I shook my head and pulled away. “We have packing to do.”
“Ginger.”
“I’m good, really. Did you get boxes?”
“Yeah, I did. I’ll go grab them.”
Chapter 58
Malcolm
I grabbed the boxes and tape from the back of my truck.
Ginger met me at the door, and took a few of them from the stack I carried. “How was Shawn?”
“Good. Your parents offered to come help if we needed them.”
“They are helping. This would take much longer if we had to chase him around.”
“True. So where do you want to start?”
“Uh…I’ll start in the kitchen since I need to figure out what I want to take. Can you take your boxes up to my room?”
I nodded and headed off in that direction. Whatever was on her mind, she seemed to have put it behind her. I knew better than to push, but her attitude made me worry she wasn’t as ready for this step as she’d said. I just had to hope that not questioning her wouldn’t come back to bite me in the ass later.
I leaned the boxes up against her dresser, trying to figure out where to start first. I walked into her closet to start getting down the things on her shelf. The top shoe box wobbled then fell to the floor. Off came the top and envelopes spilled out. I sat the other boxes down then started picking up the envelopes. Each one was sealed and had names on them. One for her parents, Macy, Shawn, and me.
Grabbing them up, I walked over to take a seat on her bed. I placed all the others back in the shoe box but held onto the one addressed to me. Reasons for these bombarded me. Somewhere deep in my gut, one reason stood out. Flipping it over, I started to open it but stopped. If this letter was what I thought it was, did I really want to know? Did I want to read her goodbye? As I ripped it open, I knew the answer was yes. Whether it was some sort of morbid curiosity or a genuine need to know, I couldn't be sure.
Three pages. She’d written me a three-page letter. I noticed them moving and realized my hands were shaking. I folded the pages back and set them on the bed. My gaze went to the box with the other letters. She’d really thought through her actions. Took the time to write letters to everyone.
I took a breath and picked my letter up again. I began to read. With each new word, my chest ached a little bit more. Reading those words, knowing that she had those feelings—the desire to die—it was too much.
A gasp made me look up. Ginger stood in the doorway, face ashen, eyes trained on the papers in my hands. Neither of us spoke. I kept my eyes on her as I folded the letter and returned it to its envelope.
“You weren’t supposed to read that.” Her voice sounded raspy.
“It had my name on it.”
She walked over. I noticed the slight tremble in her hand when she reached for my letter. She picked it up and put it back into the shoe box. I wrapped my hand around her wrist.
“I don’t want to talk about it, Malcolm.”
Ginger pulled her arm free, picked up the box, and exited the room. I remained on the bed trying to wrap my head around things. I knew she’d been through a lot, but the fact that man had damaged her to the point she thought ending her life was the only way, I couldn’t fathom it. Even more importantly, how could we have missed that things were that bad for her? We’d all been so blind. So fucking caught up in what we wanted for her, that we ignored how much pain she’d really been in. She’d been correct, we wanted her better, and that’s what she gave us.
I ran my hands down my face then through my hair before pushing off the bed in search of Ginger. She stood with her arms wrapped around herself, staring into the fireplace. The smell of burnt paper filled the air. Ginger’s focus remained on the flames before her. The shoebox and letters it contained were now blackened remnants.
I walked up and circled my arms around her. I stood behind her not speaking, but watching the flames as she did.
“I wish you hadn’t read the letter.”
“I’m glad I did.”
“Why? Why would you want to know that?”
I turned her to face me. Bringing my hands up, I held on to either side of her face and leaned down for a soft kiss.
“You’re here. Not gonna lie, reading that, knowing what it was, that wasn’t easy.” I ran my knuckles up the side of her cheek. “But in the end, you’re here.”
Ginger pulled away, turning to stare at that creepy painting above the fireplace.
“I’ve spent a lot of hours staring at her. Talking to her. Hoping she held some magical answer.”
I placed my hands on her shoulders, and massaged them briefly before wrapping my arms around her and pulling her back against me.
“I sat here on the floor working on
my second bottle of wine…”
I tightened my arms around her. “Baby, that’s in the past. What’s important is that no matter how low you felt in that moment, you found a reason to not go through with it.”
She reached up, and rested her hands on my arms. “What do you see when you look at her?”
“Look at who?”
“My lady on the cliff.”
I looked up at the picture. Studying it for the first time. Normally, I’d only give it a passing glance. It was an unsettling image, and I often wondered why she left it up after that bastard was gone.
Ginger started talking again before I answered her question. “She called to me the first time I saw her. I’ve never been into art. You’d hear in movies people talking about deep meaning of pictures, and I never understood it. Until her. There was something serene about that moment. I imagined that whatever brought her to that point, she stood there right at the edge and had a moment of clarity. Whether she stepped off, or turned back, it didn’t matter. What mattered was that moment right before the decision. That breath. That moment of freedom knowing that the next choice was hers and hers alone.”
My gaze remained on the painting. Seeing it as Ginger saw it. Not as some morbid picture depicting a woman about to plunge to her death. Instead, I saw Ginger. A woman teetering on the edge but holding on just enough to not go over.
“Precipice.” Her words spoken in a whisper.
“What?”
“That’s the name of the painting.” Ginger pulled away and walked over to turn the gas off to the fireplace. The flames died out almost instantly. “Seth gave me a lot of things, but the two most important are that painting and Shawn. Both saved my life. Shawn did so twice.”
I looked up at the painting again, before stepping closer to examine it. Checking to see how it was secured to the wall, I lifted it, surprised by the weight.
“What are you doing?”
Making sure I was careful not to drop it, I slowly lowered Precipice to the floor. “This is important to you. It holds special meaning, so I’m taking it with us.”
“But you don’t like it.”
I walked over and pulled her into an embrace. “Let’s just say I have a new appreciation for it.”
We spent the next few hours packing up the things she wanted to take now, knowing we still had a ways to go. She had a house full of furniture that needed to be dealt with, but it could wait.
I headed home, and Ginger went to her parents’ house to get Shawn. During the drive, I tried in vain to not think about that letter and the fact that at one point she was ready to end it all. Even in death, that bastard nearly took her life.
My hands squeezed the steering wheel. I should really consider taking up poker because my game face had improved greatly. Once she’d been found, I thought the threat had been removed. Ginger was safe and away from that bastard; all she’d needed to do was heal. It’s what we’d all thought. Her biggest threat in many ways had always been herself. Taking the weight of the world onto her shoulders. Empathy for others, was a strength, but also a weakness. Her biggest weakness.
I pounded my fist against the wheel. She’d apologized. She’d apologized for him, for what he’d done to her. For what he’d done to Macy. It pissed me off that she took on the blame for every despicable act that man had done, as if she’d had any control over them. It wasn’t her fault. None of it was within her control, yet the guilt he’d left her with had nearly consumed her. But she was here.
Fuck! Those old shoulda, coulda, woulda thoughts came back. If only I’d not let Macy dictate things before, I could have saved Ginger from going through all of the pain and suffering. If she’d gone through with it, I would have never forgiven myself for holding back for so long.
Just when I’d thought the worst had come out and been dealt with, there was still more. But she was here. It was one night. A moment of weakness, but she’d only thought about it. She’d not actually attempted to end her life. No matter how much he’d tried to break her, she’d won. No matter how much she thought he’d broken her, she’d won.
No matter what was to come, she was still here. We were getting through everything together. She’d let me in. She’d opened up. She loved me. That last thought brought a smile to my face. The last couple of years had been hell, but that was behind us now.
The rest of the evening was relaxing. Dinner, and a little TV before Shawn decided he was in the mood to game. He now had his very own controller, thanks to a combination of one too many hits on the floor and him managing to get the lid off his juice cup, which resulted in water spilling all over it.
“You are really turning him into your mini me, aren’t you?”
I looked over and gave a quick shrug. “I need someone to game with. He’s already better than you, and he’s not even really playing.”
“Then how does that make him better than me?”
“Because he wants to play. You could always take his place.”
Ginger reached over to move hair out of his face. “You are looking just like daddy, aren’t you?”
I turned my head in her direction and stared at her.
“What?”
I smiled and shook my head. “Nothing.”
“Okay. Oh. Wait here I have something to show you.”
She hopped up and headed toward the garage. Shawn instantly flipped onto his stomach then slid off the couch to go after his mother. Ginger was back, carrying a bag before he even made it to the door. She scooped him up and gave him rapid fire kisses on his neck. He erupted into laughter.
“What’s in the bag?”
She sat Shawn on my lap. “Wait and see.”
Ginger ran off to the half-bath. She returned a few minutes, leaving me speechless as I stared at her. She stood there wearing a skin-tight, black pleather, full body suit. The front zipper stopped right at her cleavage. The material hugged every delectable curve of her body. I picked Shawn up and sat him on the cushion beside me. He quickly got down and ran over to his mom.
“Say something,” she commented, bending down to pick up Shawn. “I have other accessories, but I didn’t want to put on all the pieces right now.”
Ginger shifted Shawn in her arms, and in doing so pulled the fabric exposing more of her breasts.
“Mal?”
“Huh? Yeah. So...am I supposed to kiss your boots and call you mistress, because I’m totally down for that.”
“Oh my god, Malcolm. What? No. Wait…you’d want to do that?”
“Hell yeah. You, in that, I’d do whatever the hell you told me to do.”
A carefree smile spread across her face. “Is that something on your…” she stopped to look at Shawn, who now had his head resting on her shoulder. “On your special list?”
“It is now.”
She laughed. “Why do I encourage you?”
“Because you love the rewards you get by doing so.”
Her beautiful face filled with color. She cleared her throat. “That is a conversation for another time. But back to my current outfit. It’s for Halloween.”
“You’re going to wear that to answer the door for kids? Because I’m fairly certain all the dads will return for a second round and the moms will get pissed.”
She rolled her eyes and shook her head. She reached up to brush hair from Shawn’s forehead and gave him a kiss. “I decided to go with you guys. It’ll be his first time, and I don’t want to miss it. And I know you said you’d take pictures, but it’s not the same, you know.”
“You sure?”
She nodded. “It’s not like I can avoid it this year, anyway. At the other house, it was easy. Gate closed, lights around the gate off. I could just go to bed early and wait for the next day. Here, I have to face it regardless. Decorations are up, and there will be kids at the door. So, it’s either face it, or go hang out with Dorian, but knowing her she’d be working late or something.”
She walked over
and handed Shawn to me. He fussed about the exchange, reaching out again for his mom.
“I just need to go change, buddy.”
“Why would you do that?”
Ginger rolled her eyes at me, and then she leaned over to give Shawn a quick kiss. I grabbed her arm and pulled her toward me. I sat up, meeting her halfway until our lips touched. Her other hand came up to stroke my cheek.
“If you’re a good boy, maybe I’ll put it back on later.”
“And if I’m bad?”
She broke out into a large grin. “Then you’re kissing my boots.”
I sat back laughing and enjoyed the view of her ass as she walked away.
“All right, kid, let’s get you a dry diaper and ready for bed.”
I’d just gotten settled in the glider, preparing to read him a story when Ginger entered the room. Soon as he saw his mother, Shawn reached out for her. I got up to let her take the chair and placed Shawn in her lap.
“What exactly is your costume?”
“Um, well I had to match you guys. And since this one has been Hulk smashing everything since you got him his, and you’re the arrow shooty guy.”
“Hawkeye.”
“Yeah, him…Anyway, not many options, so I’m Black Widow.”
We let the irony of that statement hang in the air.
I leaned down to kiss the top of Shawn’s head. “Night, Lil’ Man.”
Boxes filled the space of our master bedroom. Unpacking we could tackle tomorrow. I plopped down onto the bed, using my forearm to cover my eyes. It’d been one hell of a day. The sound of a drawer opening broke through my quiet moment. Looking over toward the noise, I saw Ginger pulling out one of my white T-shirts. She was already topless, with her back to me. The idea of that damn scar being gone pleased me. I wasn’t bothered by the scar itself, but knowing what it represented made it hard to see.
I propped up onto my elbows, watching as she pulled the cotton fabric down onto her body. “For Christmas, I’m buying you a package of those.”
