Chapter Five
Ben
“Ugh.”
It was morning, but I wasn’t snapping up in attention when I woke up. Instead, my mind and body felt heavy, and I rolled over in bed, trying to get comfortable so I could fall asleep and get back to my wonderful dream. This was why I drank, I didn’t think too much while I was drunk, and I didn’t wake up ready to be attacked.
That dream though…where I saw Ginger, and she was talking to me. She was still glaring, but it wasn’t the same dismissal I’d gotten when I went to her place. And then, after that, where she wasn’t even glaring. That had to have been a dream, right? Because there was no way Ginger would have been in my room last night.
I rolled around in bed for a few more minutes, then frowned when I figured I wouldn’t be falling back asleep. I groaned as I rose up, throwing a hand up to hold my head.
“Shit.” The part of drinking that I didn’t like. The hangover, and feeling so disoriented when I did wake up.
I slid out of bed and went to the bathroom. I had some meds in the cabinet behind the mirror, and I took a couple Tylenol with water from the sink. Then I stared at my reflection for a minute. My eyes were bloodshot and my coloring was a little pale. I looked terrible. So I stripped off my clothes and got under the shower for a quick wash.
When I got out, I felt a little more myself, and I left my bedroom with a towel wrapped around my waist, another tossed over my shoulder as I rubbed my hair dry. But then, I froze, when I caught sight of the couch.
Ginger.
She was sleeping on my couch, just like she’d said she would in my so-called dream from last night. Her being there meant it wasn’t a dream, though, right? And I let her see me drunk.
Dammit!
My heart was starting to pick up speed, and I looked down at myself with a wince. I couldn’t let her see me half naked. I’d humiliated myself enough last night. So I tiptoed back to my room and changed into better clothes, then went to the kitchen, pausing to glance down at Ginger, to make breakfast for the two of us. I couldn’t make much, but I could at least fry eggs and toast some bread.
She got up while I was in the middle of cooking, and I smiled to myself as I listened to her moving around. Usually, it was just me in the apartment. Hearing someone else, and knowing that person was Ginger, made my heart skip a beat.
“Hey,” she said.
She was at the door into the little kitchen, leaning against the doorjamb. I looked up to see her yawn and rub her eye, with her hair all messed up from sleep. Her voice was still rough from sleep, and she was still in yesterday’s clothes, all wrinkled.
It was the most beautiful sight I’d seen in a while.
“Hey, there,” I said sheepishly, rubbing the back of my neck. “I’m sorry about last night; I didn’t mean to be a bother. But I am happy that you stayed.”
She sighed and frowned at me. “Well, you didn’t deserve it. But you were heavy, and I was tired.”
“No, you’re right,” I muttered, ignoring her excuse. “I didn’t deserve it, which is why when I woke up, I thought I dreamed the whole thing.”
Her eyes were wide as they stared at me in surprise. I gave a self-conscious laugh, but of course, I knew. There were a lot of things I desired from Ginger that I didn’t deserve because of how I treated her. It would be only right if she kicked me off to the curb so that she’d stayed anyway was a good sign for me. That just maybe, I might have a chance with this girl that I never stopped loving.
We sat down to breakfast at my little dining table, with a carton of orange juice in the middle of the table between us and two glasses.
“Sorry I don’t have any coffee. I don’t drink it.”
“It’s fine,” Ginger said, waving me off. “I can just buy some when I head out later.”
At the reminder that she would be leaving, my heart squeezed uncomfortably in my chest. But I couldn’t ask for more from her, of course, she could leave whenever she wanted to. Being so unhappy about it was my problem, not hers.
“I’m sorry,” I blurted out.
Ginger stopped eating and looked up at me. “What?”
I grimaced. I’d had this whole speech prepared, just in case she decided to talk to me, and I’d just ruined it. But because I’d already started, I couldn’t just stop.
“When I decided to leave,” I explained. “I was entirely selfish back then, and I never got to apologize to you before I left. You’d told me that you could be pregnant, and my first thought was to run. I’m sorry that I never stuck around to find out whether it was true or not, and left you to deal with that on your own.”
In the middle of my speech, I lost some confidence and ended up staring down instead of looking right at her. She didn’t give an immediate reply, and there were a few minutes of silence between us. I was hunched over the table, with my hands clasped tightly underneath it where she couldn’t see and realize just how anxious I was.
“Why did you come yesterday?” she asked.
My head shot up. “What?”
“To the salon. Why did you come? What did you come to say? I’m ready to hear it, whatever it is.”
She had her arms crossed over her chest, but while the position was defensive, nothing in her expression gave me a clue as to how she was feeling.
I bit down on my lip. “I came to say I was sorry. I know…that it’s been months since I got back. But I’ve been a coward in that entire time, I just…didn’t know how to face you.”
“You faced me just fine yesterday,” she pointed out.
I let out a small, grim laugh, and dropped my head so she wouldn’t catch the look on my face.
“I got discharged from the Navy, Ginger. There wasn’t even the option of me staying longer because psychologically, I was not okay to continue my service, not that I would have wanted to stay, anyway. I saw…so many horrors out there, Ginger. When I came out, I wasn’t the same as the man that left.” I glanced up tentatively to meet her gaze. “I’ve…changed. But I just wanted to try with us. Try and be better, if you’ll allow me to be. Because this time, I’m going to be there for you and not run away.”
I held my breath, waiting for her reply. If she outright refused me, I couldn’t blame her. I would have to listen to her wishes, even if that was what I was most afraid of.
“I’m not sure,” she said after a few minutes, sighing and throwing her arms up. “I want to believe you, Ben, but your track record so far is terrible.”
I nodded quickly. “I know. But if we could just try? Take it one step at a time. I’m not asking you to trust me now, just give me a chance.”
She let out another sigh. She didn’t reply, but she went back to eating, instead of just getting up and walking away, and I hoped that meant she agreed.