Page 6 of Zeppelin
“I’m not looking to be one,” I choke back in response.
There’s a line. Isn’t there?
God knows Jack and I gave each other a bunch of tough love and being in a club full of rough around the edges men from all walks of life isn’t for the faint of heart, even here. Maybe that’s why I’ve never dated anyone properly. I might be capable of giving intimacy, maybe in some alternate universe I’d even be capable of love, but receiving it? That seems far harder than giving.
As Ginny softens in my arms, going almost ragdoll limp now that she admitted the truth, something sparks in my chest. A flicker of life igniting something hot. Ginny is strong. She’s vivacious, lively, kind, funny, and full of life. I know all of that even though I barely know her.
She’d intrinsically know how to love a baby.
She lifts her head like I’ve spoken out loud, but I didn’t say a thing. Her throat works with a hard swallow and she blinks hard at whatever it is she’s about to say. “Most people wait three months before they tell anyone that they’re expecting, but even that isn’t a guarantee. I want this baby so badly, but nature isn’t always… it doesn’t… it doesn’t always work out. I’m not going to tell a soul, even my family, until I’m that far along. I’d appreciate it if you’d respect my wishes and my privacy. I’ll reassess the situation at that time.”
I can’t help it. I slow blink as I process that. Every single choice that she’s going to make during this time and all the time coming is hers by right. It’s her body. I shouldn’t interfere. “Ithink you should tell your family. If something happens, you’d be alone in it and that’s not healthy for anyone.”
She gives me a look, and doesn’t tell me that I’ve overstepped, but I feel as though I have. Fuck knows no one should be taking advice from me, especially not on babies. Children. My god, is this happening? Is it real? Thinking about Jack having a child that he’ll never see brings on a fresh wave of pain so acute that I nearly double over.
“I- maybe- but… I don’t know. It’s not that I’m scared to tell them. They’ll support me in anything I want to do, and they’ll always love me no matter what.”
“Whatever you do, you’ll look after yourself?”
“I will.” She twists in my arms, looking up at me with an expression that nearly breaks a heart I didn’t know could feel anything even close. She looks at me like she sees me. Not the way Jack did, different, but somehow just as deep. Like she can see all the way down to the lonely heartsick existence that I’m going to have to learn how to live now that my twin is gone.
“This isn’t about me today,” she says. She’s so close and seems fragile. The top of her head barely comes up to my chin. “I’m sorry for your loss.Truly. You were there with Jack right from the first.” I was wrong. She can’t see straight through me. She sees down deep into me, to the truth that I haven’t even comprehended for myself. “You’re right. I can’t comprehend a loss like that. Would you like me to help you find someone to talk to? Twin grief support groups online or a therapist in person?”
“I can look them up. Thanks.”
“Zep?”
“Zeppelin.” Why do I feel like a douchebag for correcting her?
“My parents have a lot of land. There’s an old farmhouse on one of their sections. I’ve been thinking about it for years. Fixing it up and one day living there. It belonged to my grandpa’s mom. She was born in there, and all her brothers and sisters too. My grandpa didn’t have the heart to tear it down after she passed, and my dad grew up helping his dad maintain the house and the yard. It’s been a dream of mine to fix it up and live there.” She drops her eyes down to the ground.
I want to tell her that she’s crazy, but for once, I keep my asshole comments to myself in deference of her feelings. She’s only gone shy suddenly because this is important to her. Who am I to shit all over that?
Who am I that I’m even thinking these things?
“You tell me when and where and I’ll be there.”
I’m pretty sure we both look surprised as fuck at that.
“What about work? And your club stuff?”
“I’ll get them to—”
“No.” She shakes her head, some of her sister’s signature stubbornness making itself known in the set of her jaw and the way she purses her lips. The slightest pink appears in her cheeks in stark relief against her pale skin. “If and when I tell my parents and ask about the house and they give me the okay to live there, it’s just you. I don’t want anyone else involved. My brother and dad will insist that they help, but they’ll be busy with farming. My mom and I do markets, and we’ll also be busy getting the garden ready and baking and whatever. Sewing.Crafting. Anyway. You want to help me? That’s the way you can help me. But just you.”
Why not the club? Why not Carver and her sister? Maybe she’d be okay with them helping out. But why not everyone? “Just me,” I tell her, even though I still have no idea why.
Maybe she’ll change her mind.
Maybe she’ll decide living in the middle of nowhere in a house that’s five million years old without any modern conveniences, is little better than living in a cave, and she’ll change her mind.
“It will be an exercise in sheer frustration and exhaustion. You could possibly use that.” She detaches herself slowly, breaking away from me to stand on her own two feet.
She looks strong enough to do that now. Determined. Shining with an inner light and excitement that my body registers before my brain does. There’s a split second where my reason doesn’t catch up and my cock reacts, twitching in my jeans. My brain slams back into gear, and I want to punch myself for that errant rush of blood flow.
I can never think of this woman that way. It would be wrong on every level and would only complicate anything. If she decides to let me be part of this baby’s life, I can’t do anything to jeopardize that.
She was never truly Jack’s woman, but in my head, she always will be, and that pact still stands, even if he’s not here.
