Page 57 of Zeppelin
She laughs humorlessly. I expect the line about me not having met many people, because she’s self-deprecating and humble like that, but that’s not what comes out. “A smart person wouldn’t have hurt you.” My jaw practically bangs open. I know I’m doing cartoon style gaping at her, but I can’t stop. Her hand moves under the table. We’re sitting side by side on two folding chairs. Five minutes in, my ass went numb, but there was no way I was standing up.
I like sitting beside Ginny.
Like her scent, her nearness, her sugary sweetness, her beauty, her laughter, hereverything. After so many days of not seeing her, I couldn’t bring myself to be further away, even if it was just an extra few feet of distance.
Her pinkie finger skims over the back of my hand. “I’m sorry, Zeppelin. I have experience with men, but no experience with any sort of relationship. I didn’t know what we were doing. I didn’t know what I wanted. I spoke without thinking, because sometimes I can be insensitive and tone deaf and all around dumb. I don’t know what’s happening between us, but I know I want you in my life. Definitely in the baby’s life. That’s never going to change. I just… need time, I think. To figure things out. Maybe we should just be careful in the future, to make sure we know what we both want? We can talk it out together. I don’t like hurting you. I don’t likeknowingthat I did. I don’t like how that hurts me.”
It’s not the response I wanted, but I know it’s the one we need. I knew that we’d have to take a step back. How could wetake one forward? I don’t believe in the right people at the wrong time. I don’t even believe in the wrong people at the wrong time. I don’t know that I believe in any people at any time.
Ginny’s never done relationships, and I’ve never had anything more than a one night stand. She’s way ahead of me in every way. I need to catch up. I need to decide what I truly want as well. After Jack, I’m coming around to the idea that I have no fucking idea.
I just know thatthisis what I’ve been missing.
Ginny.
“I’m sorry too,” I breathe. I scrub my other hand down my face, running it over my beard. “I didn’t mean to react that way. I don’t know why I did, but then it was done, and I didn’t know what to say. I’m having… trouble. With everything. I’m lonely, I’m suffocating, I’m drowning, and then the next minute, it’s all too close, and too much. But that’s a me problem. It has nothing to do with you.”
“I confused you though, and I said something that I never should have. I won’t banish you from my life, Zep. Not ever.” Her eyes are so big, so wet, so luminous and huge. “I do have feelings for you, but I don’t know what they are. I don’t know if they’re friendly or romantic, or what. I need time to figure that out. I- I think you might too. I’m not trying to speak for you, but you’ve been through a lot of change. We both have. I just want to get to some kind of point where things have flatlined into a semblance of normalcy so we can honestly look at ourselves and know what’s going on. Truly. Not just what we think we might be feeling,” she pauses. The silence is so loaded, it’s like there’s not a whole market going on around us. “Does that make sense?” I want to nod, but I’m frozen. Her finger nudges against mine.“We’ll get it figured out. I swear.” She locks it in by twisting her finger completely around mine and squeezing. A pinkie promise.
I’ve never done one.
That would have involved having an actual childhood.
I want that for Jack’s baby. For Ginny’s. For mine, in a way. A proper childhood with people who have their shit together.
Which involves me getting mine in order. Somehow.
I squeeze Ginny’s finger right back and give her a tight smile. Nothing has ever taken more strength than that small gesture. It’s a silent pact, at least on my end.
“We’ll figure it out,” I repeat, but my voice isn’t hollow. I’m not just parroting. I don’t think I can deny what I already know to be true, but everything she’s said is wise. I know she one hundred percent meant that apology down to her soul.
This is me accepting it, and everything else that Ginny has to offer right now.
It might not be everything I want, but do I even know what that is? And what do I have to offer her in return? She wants to be a whole person. To understand herself. To know herself. She wants to have something to offer back if what felt right when it was happening for us ever feels right again in the future.
That’s the wisdom part coming into play.
I hope that with time, I can figure out what I have to offer myself, and what I might possibly have to offer her in return.
Chapter 16
Ginny
I’ve actually had an ultrasound before. When I was sixteen, I kept having really bad pains. Not period cramps or anything, but just wicked pains in my abdomen. It turned out that nothing was wrong. No kidney stones, no infection. Everything was fine. The doctor basically thought it was stress.
I know for a fact that when I was sixteen, I wasn’t as nervous about getting any tests done as I am now.
I’ve tried to keep my sweating hands, the small trembles, and my deep breathing that I’ve been doing to myself, especially since we were shown into this room.
Zeppelin either isn’t worried about not looking like he’s going to shit himself, or he’s got the worst poker face.
He’s nervous. Visibly. He’s paler than normal and sweat keeps beading on his hairline even though he brushes it away repeatedly. He was nervous when he arrived at the house this morning on his bike. He didn’t wear his club vest this time. Just a regular leather jacket with a gray t-shirt, dark jeans that look new, and his biker boots. He swapped out his helmet for a ballcap and sunglasses. I drove us here, and it was distracting as fuck having him sit next to me, looking entirely edible. He shed the hat and glasses when we walked into the clinic.
His sunglasses hang from his t-shirt, one arm tucked in, and he’s worrying the bill of his hat at the moment, bending itback and forth. He’s going to wreck it completely at this point. He’ll put it back on and it will be all wonky.
“Zeppelin? Are you okay? You look like you’re going to throw up.” I shouldn’t talk about puking. I’m lying on the examination bench, trying not to wet myself or gag after drinking all that water that you have to down. My own nerves are battling with it, turning my stomach into a storm tossed sea.
His eyes shoot up from the hat. His hands release it and he drops it to the floor. He seems frozen, making no effort to swoop it up. “I have no idea.”
