Page 105 of When It's Us
Her eyes trail over me, taking inventory of more tattoos. “And Hudson?”
I turn my arm, showing her my bicep on the other side.
“Titans?” she asks, running her fingers over the word tattooed in fancy block script with a softball superimposed behind it. “The softball team.”
I nod, and she leans in, checking out the ink all across my skin.
“What’s the story behind this one?”
It’s pine boughs and a compass, a section of mountains and road, something I got in my twenties. “Some random shit for traveling.”
“Is that a footprint?” she asks, leaning closer.
It’s been years, but I feel my throat tighten. It’s easier to keep the past—and that tattoo---buried under layers of work and long roads, far from anyone’s gaze. To anyone who notices it, it’s just another tattoo, but the weight it carries still gets to me.
I swallow hard, shifting to grab her hand. She glances up at me, and she must see something on my face, because her eyes dance between mine, concern, or maybe confusion lighting them.
Instinct tells me to get defensive; to throw up those walls I’ve worked hard to erect for over a decade. But if I’ve learned anything about Ginger, it’s that she won’t judge me. Icantrust her. I have no doubt about that. And if Iweregoing to try and be better—for what I don’t know,herI guess—I need to be able to open up.
So I wrap my arms around her, pulling strength from her. Not only emotionally, but physically, too. Because yeah, she is stronger than she knows, and I need that shit to get through this conversation.
Taking a deep breath, I let it out slowly. “The tattoo… It’s not something I’ve shared with anyone, not even my family.”
Her eyebrows pinch in, but then her face relaxes, eyes still on me. “You don’t have to tell me,” she says softly.
But suddenly, I wantto. The thought of telling someone, no—tellingGinger, feels…right.
My voice cracks a bit when I say, “It represents someone I lost a while ago.”
Her hand moves to mine, and she laces our fingers together on my chest, a gesture of comfort I doubt she even realizes she’s offering.
I nod. “I was twenty-one. Sarah was nineteen. We were so happy.” I swallow audibly as Ginger watches me.
I feel fucking laid bare, like every fucked-up thing I’ve felt about that time is on display as she gazes at me with compassionate eyes. They're hooded and beautiful, and I see so much empathy in them. Not the pity I would expect.
“I was on my way to propose,” I say, quiet in the stillness surrounding us. “She was pregnant.”
Ginger’s brow furrows again, and from the look in her eyes, I almost regret saying anything, because it feels real now. More real than it was then, if I’m honest. Like talking about it made it more true. Heavier somehow. The lightness I thought talking about it would bring doesn’t come. But it’s out now, and I can’t take it back.
“What happened?” she asks quietly, searching my face.
“Spontaneous abortion is what the official letterhead said. Though I had no idea what that meant at the time. To this day, I don’t know exactly where it happened or what she was going through.” I clear my throat, unable to meet her eyes. “Anyway, she—uh, she and her family left Timber Forge that day. I never saw her again.”
“She just…left?” she asks, her voice incredulous. “Without telling you? Without saying goodbye?”
When I finally have the courage to look at her, her eyes are soft, and all I can do is nod. There really isn’t any sense in rehashing the whole thing, anyway.
She doesn’t say anything for a while. Then, she leans forward and touches the tattoo, her fingers tracing the shape of the tiny print. It sends a scatter of goosebumps over my skin.
I hear the catch in her voice before she even speaks.
“I’m so sorry you never got the chance to know him…or her.” Her words hang heavy in the air, fragile and real. “Losing that little piece of what could’ve been—” she chokes up, shakes her head like she’s trying to push away the weight of it all. “I’m so sorry, Hutch.”
“And the rest of it…” Another soft shake of her head. “You deserved so much more than that.”
She whispers it like she means it, and fuck if that doesn’t gut me.
I nod, blinking back the pain and hurt and regret I haven’t let myself feel in years.
