Willa extricated a handful of photographs and began picking through them.
Ginger set down the magazine and picked up a glossy eight-by-ten shot of a broad-shouldered young man wearing a basketball uniform, his brows drawn together in concentration. The players surrounding him were the only giveaway that he was a high school student, because of how much older he looked. “Who’s this?”
“That’s Evan. Evan Carmichael.”
“Oh.” Ginger studied the picture. “Did you take this on Friday night? It’s really good, Wip.”
“Yep, I did. Thanks.”
Ginger set the photograph back down on top of the pile. “He’s really cute. Do you know him?” She winced at her attempt to sound nonchalant. Willa would definitely clam up on the double.
“Yeah. I know him. Actually…” She tugged the sleeves of her hoodie over her wrists, poking her thumb through a hole she’d created. “I think he’s going to ask me to the prom. Ha.”
Ginger’s mouth fell open. “Wh-what did you say? You’re considering going to a dance with this boy?”
“I’m thinking about it. Yeah.” She sighed. “If he asks, I’ll go.”
Ginger’s mind reeled. Her little sister, who to the best of her knowledge avoided human contact at all costs, had agreed to attend a dance? Remembering Willa’s reaction to her barb about attending the school basketball game, Ginger refrained from relaying her thoughts aloud.
Did this mean coming to Chicago had been the right thing for Willa? She scrutinized the blush staining her sister’s cheeks, the glimmer of humor in her eye. Ginger’s heart swelled.
She quickly tried to hide her proud-mama reaction by ducking her head, but her smile must have shown because Willa snickered into her coffee cup.
“Well, that’s fantastic, Willa,” Ginger said, attempting casual. “I assume you’ll need a dress?”
“I might.”
“Then I might be able to help pick it out?”
Willa laughed. “Ginger, I know fuck-all about dresses. You’re hired.”
Unable to restrain herself, Ginger clapped her hands twice. “Great. Just give me a little direction. Short, long, strapless…?”
Her sister gave a lopsided smile. “Just make me look better than Evan’s ex-girlfriend, Natalie. The blond, pom-pom-toting femme-bot.”
Ah, so this is what had been bothering Willa. She felt a rush of relief. Normal teenage problems. “Girl, when I’m done, she’ll have nothing on you.”
They passed the next hour going through Willa’s photographs and pulling out their favorites, deciding where to place them. Ginger even managed to weasel a few more details about Evan out of her sister—enough to get the sense that she really liked the boy. Which was shocking, to say the least. When Willa eventually left for school, Ginger dragged herself from the floor and went to make a fresh pot of coffee.
As she waited for it to brew, she tried to comprehend the last hour. Instead of reticent and moody, Willa had been practically jovial as they worked on the joint project. She’d had to force herself to act normal and not gape at the changes taking place in her sister. Her signature snark and foul mouth hadn’t gone anywhere, which Ginger found herself oddly thankful for. She loved the old Willa just as much as the new one.
Sipping at her fresh cup, Ginger found herself torn between joy over Willa’s transformation and confusion over her own inability to transform herself. Perhaps it had to do with age. Willa was still young and able to learn new tricks, so to speak. Ginger chose to take it as a sign that in some small way, she might have actually managed to shield Willa from the worst of their upbringing before it caused any permanent damage.
As for herself, she’d lacked any type of shield or voice of reason. Her life had been molded into a shape and left to harden in the sun. It was too late for her to change now.
Chapter Seventeen
After knocking one final time on Ginger’s door and not getting an answer, Derek turned to leave with a frustrated curse. She wouldn’t answer his phone calls and he didn’t have time to sit and wait for her to get back from wherever she’d gone.
With the situation at work rapidly coming to a head, the last place he should’ve been was trying to track down an AWOL Ginger, but goddammit, he couldn’t concentrate on the upcoming operation after the way they’d left things. She’d looked so shaken up leaving his apartment. If he could just talk to her, touch her, he would find a way to reassure her.
He’d walked into Sensation last night with every intention of humbling himself. He’d fucked up by allowing two days to pass with radio silence between them. Ginger might not admit it, but she’d needed him to make her feel wanted. And not just for one night. Instead, he’d gone off to work like an arrogant jackass, thinking she’d still be there playing house when he finally made it home. Sidling up to the bar, he’d been desperate to lay eyes on her after two days of missing her like hell.