“Otherwise what?”
“She won’t just use you as an experiment next time. She’ll fall in love with you and everything you’ve built together will vanish because you won’t permit her to want you and she won’t be able to keep living with something she can’t have. You’ll break apart, and the surname that links you together as surely as mine does to my wife and children will mean nothing.”
He pulled the door to behind him, granting final words that stopped my heart. “Figure out a way to keep her as your sister, Ren. Otherwise, you won’t have her at all.”
* * * * *
I left Cherry River with far less than I arrived with.
I had no Della, no flu, no backpack, no tent.
All I had was an envelope of cash tucked safely in my waistband with two t-shirts on, a thick jumper, and my winter jacket. In my pockets, I had a spare set of underwear and socks, and on my head, a beanie with sunglasses perched for all types of seasons I might encounter.
John’s words kept me company as I crunched down their gravel driveway one last time, turned in the direction my heart tugged me—all the while hoping it was the right choice to find Della—and never looked back.
I struck off into a jog.
My mind locked on finding my runaway Ribbon.
I didn’t say goodbye.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
REN
* * * * * *
2013
I LOST HER for two full days.
The first few hours, I wasn’t worried.
I figured I knew her enough that she’d head to one of her friend’s from school, follow the main road, get tired, and rest along the verge.
That theory was dashed by the time I arrived at the friend’s house in question, and her mother informed me with sleepy frustration that there was no reason to get her out of bed at four in the morning because Della wasn’t there.
I’d waited until dawn, sitting in their deck chairs on the lawn, waiting to see if Della would turn up, hoping she would, begging her to.
But by the time the sun warmed the world, I had to accept defeat.
She hadn’t come this way.
By midmorning, fear crept over my anger, and I no longer thought about her with a thinning of my lips and discipline on my mind but with an ever-fledgling panic. She was no longer the bold girl who’d kissed me without permission. She was a child lost and alone and at the mercy of all manner of creatures.
Most of them men.
Heinous, horrible men who would gladly accept a kiss and so much else.
My heart never fell below a steady race as I jogged through downtown, visited her local familiar hang-outs, and racked my brain for her favourite places and people.
By the time another evening rolled around, I hadn’t eaten or drank. I raged on terrified adrenaline. I didn’t need fuel because the urgency to find her before another night fell kept me pumped and focused.
I’d exhausted all my options in town.
The next place I had to search was the first place I would’ve gone but not somewhere I’d expect her to find sanctuary in.
Especially on her own.
Doubling back toward the outskirts of town and keeping my eye on the horizon where Cherry River Farm had once been our home, I traded paved roads for bracken paths and shed off the city veneer I’d worn while living around people.
The forest.
My real home.
I relished in letting the wildness inside me take over and lengthened my stride until I covered miles upon miles, ducking around trees, listening for any animals complaining at having a human amongst their midst, doing my best to track her like any good predator would his prey.
But as another night fell, slicing me from Della for a full twenty-four hours, I had to rest.
I slowed to a walk, let my eyes adjust to the crescent moon glow, and padded as quietly as I could, hoping against hope to hear the girl I would die for.
* * * * *
Another morning.
No rest.
No luck.
No Della.
My stomach growled, and my thirst had gotten the better of me around two a.m., making me drink like a beast with hands cupped to my face from the river.
I’d followed the meandering water for a while, hoping Della would be smart and do what I’d taught her.
Anything was survivable as long as you had an abundant water source.
If she wasn’t near the river, and she wasn’t hiding with friends…where was she?
How would I find her?
How would I keep her safe?
My legs had turned to jelly hours ago, and I half-stumbled, half-jogged forward, always seeking, never finding.
I had no food.
I had no time to find food.
I had a waistband full of money, but it was utterly useless out here in a world of trees and woodland.
If I didn’t find her soon, I’d have no choice but to return to civilization and gather supplies. I would turn the pointless dollar bills into practical belongings and never rest until we were back together again.
Another lunchtime and still no sign of her.
No noise.
No hint.
No clue.
I kept pushing forward, calling her name, peering into the hazy green foliage while stripping off overheating jackets and jumpers in the spring heat.
Another evening and still alone.
No progress.
No success.
No reunion.
And by midnight, when darkness thickened to its blackest and day-dwellers traded places with nocturnal, I had no choice but to put myself first, no matter how much it killed me.
My body needed help.
I had to be smart and feed the snarling emptiness in my belly, so I could find a way to repair the howling emptiness in my heart.
It took a few hours to switch direction and leave the river behind.
I cut through small tracks made by mammals and weaved around knobbly trees. I fell over at one point, almost too exhausted to stand, but I found my final reserves, hauling myself onward into an energy depleting march.
And lucky I did.
Because at the point when I was closest to giving up, that was the moment I found her.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
DELLA
* * * * * *
Present Day
NOW…BEFORE YOU judge me…
Let’s talk about that kiss for a second.
It was wrong; I know that.
It was morally gross; I know that, too.
It was all manners of bad, considering I took advantage of the boy who’d dedicated his entire life to making sure I was happy, cared for, and safe. I plotted silently in the dark; I willingly waited until his breathing changed and I knew he was asleep before I swallowed back the guilt, the nerves, and the shame to press my mouth to his.
I know everything I did was wrong, okay?
So you don’t need to tell me how majorly I screwed up. The instant his lips softened beneath mine, and I felt something I’d never felt when kissing Liam, I’d known just how terribly I’d screwed up.
Hugely.
Monstrously.
Life-ruiningly.
When his mouth parted, and the sweetest, heaviest sigh escaped him, and his hand came up to twine possessively in my hair, I knew I would forever punish myself for doing something so far out of permission.
Not because Ren kissed me back.
Not because he tasted so perfect or the quick flick of his tongue made a fireball ignite in my lower belly, but because, in that fleeting moment when my eyes grew heavy and I closed them to concentrate on kissing someone I never should have kissed, I grew up in an instant.
I felt things no girl should feel.
I understood things no child would know.
And I condemned myself because, as fast and as innocent as the kiss had been, it had showed me that I would never be allowed the one thing I wanted with all my heart.
Again, this is where my past knits with my present, and I can’t explain the true feelings I had then because they’re so tangled with my current heartache that it’s hard to distinguish the two.
What I can tell you is I didn’t need to be punished because I’d punished myself. I didn’t need to be told how wrong it was because I’d already whipped and cursed and shouted at myself. And I didn’t need anyone to tell me that it could never happen again because the moment my lips touched his…I knew.
I knew he was off limits.
I knew he would never be mine.
And the pain…ouch, even as a thirteen-year-old, it was excruciating.
Now that I’m eighteen and I’ve lived with that pain daily, pretending that I only think of him as my friend, convincing him—and sometimes myself—that he is far too precious to me to ever risk another idiotic move like that—I know in my heart of hearts, I don’t have much left.
God, it hurts so bad just saying that.
No amount of chest rubbing or false soothing can cut away the pain growing like a cancer inside me.
I’m an adult now.
And that means I no longer officially need him.
And because I no longer officially need him, I can move away.
I can cut ties.
I can put distance between us so our interactions will reduce to what normal families with children leaving the nest reduce to: the odd holiday gathering, the occasional phone call, a half-hearted text every other day.
I will be safe from ever being this wretched every time I look at him, smell him, laugh with him, adore him.
If I don’t do something soon, then my entire life is going to be destroyed. I’ll never find someone I can fall for. I’ll never be able to love another the way they deserved to be loved.
Those two days when I ran—the days when Ren couldn’t find me—were days I needed to glue shattered pieces back together in the best order I could. It was time I needed to talk to my younger self and tell her that she had her entire life in front of her and there would be plenty of other boys to kiss, to fall in love with, to want with such desire.
I wasn’t ready.
Ren would never be ready.
Therefore, it could never happen.
I’d spent a night in a friend’s house who I knew was overseas, and I happened to know where the spare key lived. I’d had the place to myself, but I hadn’t slept or relaxed. I’d used the space and minutes wisely, doing my best to carve out the mess I’d made of my heart and return to the Della I’d been before I’d crept over to his bed in the dark.
I’d stared into mirror after mirror, desperate to reverse the time to when I didn’t destroy myself or him.
I’d stared into my eyes.
I’d clutched the ribbon from my hair.
And I’d made a vow that Ren will never know.
I knew he would find me.
He would discipline me.
He would forgive me.
And I also knew, despite all of that, I would make him believe it was all a terrible mistake. I would sell my lies. I would believe my untruths. I would do everything required to make it all go away, because he must never know that kissing him might’ve been the worst thing I’d ever done, but it was also the best, the realest, the most truest thing I’d ever felt, and I would never apologise for that.
I would beg for his forgiveness purely to ensure our relationship was back where it belonged, and I would nurse my dirty secrets to protect him for a change.
I’ve failed at many things in my life, but I’m happy to tell you, I’ve never once broken my vow. I’ve been protecting him from that secret for years. I’ve been lying to him every minute of the day.
And now I’m exhausted, and writing this all down has shown the conclusion I didn’t want to face: I’m not ready to say goodbye.
I’ll never be ready but if I don’t, how can I ever move on?
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
REN
* * * * * *
2013
“DELLA…”
Her head snapped up from where she’d been snoozing, sitting up against a tree stump. Her eyes blinked away drowsiness, slipping from joy at seeing me to guarded with trepidation.
She should be nervous.
Now that I knew she was in one piece and not molested or dead, my panic transformed into the hottest rage I’d ever felt. The catalyst of fury replaced my insides, making my nostrils flare with hot breath and temper fire with cruel words. “Della.”
Before, her name had been a prayer of thanks. Now it was a curse of condemnation.
She scrambled to her feet, her head bowed, contrition all over her. “Before you say anything…I’m sorry.” Glancing at me between strands of curling blonde, she breathed, “I’m sorry for doing something I shouldn’t. I’m sorry for running away. I’m sorry I made you worry.” She licked her lips, shrugging. “I’m…just very sorry, for everything.”
Her apology tried to douse my anger, but I didn’t let it.
Stalking the distance between us, I crunched over twigs and foliage, coming to a trembling stop in front of her. She was no longer as short as I remembered. No longer as young. She stood subservient and entirely ready to be scolded, but her eyes burned with the same sort of fire that hissed inside me.
A fire that did its best to confuse and convince me that she didn’t deserve to be told off when it was the only thing she did deserve. She needed goddamn boundaries, and she seemed deaf to them unless I shouted.
My hands curled, doing my best to keep control. “Are you hurt?”
I’d wanted to yell, but somehow, my fear made me check she was capable of withstanding the violence I itched to give her first. My palms burned to strike. To imprint some sort of punishment for everything she’d done.
Hoisting the backpack—my backpack—up her shoulders, she shook her head. She’d dressed in jeans and a thick knitted jumper with her winter jacket tucked through the straps of the rucksack. “No.”
Despite studying her appearance and finding no blood or broken bones to say she was lying, I took another step closer.
Her eyes flared then dropped to the ground again, giving me permission to nurse my terrible temper. “Where the hell were you?”
“At a friend’s.” Her voice was small. “I knew they weren’t there, and I needed somewhere on my own…just for a little while.”
“Didn’t you think I needed somewhere, too? To figure out what the fuck you were playing at?”
She flinched.
I’d never used such foul language toward her until the moment she kissed me.
She fucking kissed me!
I couldn’t control my rage’s spit and snarl or the pain she’d caused. “You could’ve been hurt, Della. You could’ve been kidnapped or raped or killed. Did you stop to think about that, at least? Because I know you didn’t stop to think before you fucking kissed me.”
She bit her lip, shaking her head.
Weak from hunger and strung out from everything strange and wrong, I growled. “How could you, huh? What the hell possessed you to do something so sick?” Not waiting for answers, I paced away, snapping incoherent things. “You’re so goddamn young. You’re still a kid. And I’m…I’m ten years older. If that wasn’t enough, we’re family, Della. Do you know what that means? It means you love each other, but you don’t fall in love with each other. You’ve taken everything that was so right between us and destroyed it because how can I trust you to understand the difference? How can I ever touch you again? How can I ever relax around you again?”
I slammed to a stop, breathing hard, facing her with spread helpless hands. “How can we ever go back to the way things were?” Pressure built behind my eyes as I stared at the girl I loved more than life itself. The girl who’d cracked my heart. The girl who would forever have the power to break me just like she’d broken me two nights ago and every hour in-between. “Do you even know the difference between platonic love and romantic? Is it my fault that I never
explained the two? Have I failed you, Della?”
I was starving for food and affection.
I was thirsty for water and someone to assure me that it would all be okay. That I could have my Ribbon back. That I wouldn’t have to worry if I touched her hand or brushed a kiss on her temple. That I wouldn’t ruin her by making her believe that I wanted her the way a man wants a woman when I would never do that.
She was mine.
She was every hope and dream I’d ever had and the fabrication of every future I’d hoped for, and if I had to say goodbye to that…
Fuck.
I cleared the squeezing misery away and coughed into the night. “I…I miss you so fucking much, yet you’re standing right there.”
She sucked in a pained gasp, tears welling and overflowing in a second. Wriggling out of the backpack, she sprinted toward me before it even hit the ground.
With a rush of force, she ran into me, wrapping her arms around my waist, pressing her cheek against my chest. “Ren.”
Two things happened.
One, no thought was required.
This was Della.
I’d hugged her a thousand—no, a million times before, and my body recognised hers as if it was a part of me—a part I’d lost but now had found, and it hurt almost as much welcoming it back as it was to lose it.
My body rejoiced at having her home in my embrace, and I clutched her so damn hard. I curled around her, inhaling her hair and smelling foreign shampoo. I pressed my lips to her head, but then the memories returned.
The dream figments.
The real yearnings.
The forbidden responses she’d drawn from me.
Shoving her back, I held up my hand, keeping distance between us. “You’ve even managed to ruin a hug.”
She choked on a sob, hugging herself with fierce sadness. “I know.”
You’ve made this impossible for me, Little Ribbon.”