She didn’t even say anything, just leaned into him, her tears wetting his shirt. If anything that made him feel even more tense, because this was Ginger - fierce and bold and never taking crap from anyone, him least of all. He’d never seen her like this before, not in all the time they’d been together. She was the strong one. And he - he had broken her.
Peter felt sick - this was what he was afraid of, what he’d meant when he’d told Rose and Lexi that he was terrified of hurting Andrew. He’d always, always tried to keep from letting people close, because sooner or later, someone got hurt. Because no one else deserved to have to deal with him and all the absolute shit that came out of being close to him.
Once upon a time, he had let Ginger in, let her become more than a quick fling. Her spark and snap had intrigued him, her free spirit not something he wanted to tame, but something he wanted because he’d thought if anyone could get close to him and not get burned, it would be her. They’d been volatile, combative, best friends and trusted enemies all in one... and he had loved her. And he had as good as killed her. And now, he was breaking her heart.
“It’ll be alright,” he murmured, hardly even thinking about the empty, clichéd platitude, just needing to say something. “You’ll be alright, Ginger, we’ll sort it out.” Fuck if he knew how. But he owed her... after everything he’d put her through, he fucking owed her.