A voice I knew better than my own.
“…and when will you know?” Slight pause. “Ah.” Another pause. “Yeah, okay.”
My steps turned to tiptoes as I crept toward the stables and ducked behind some stacked bales. Through the stalky, golden grass, I spotted Ren.
My heart kicked like it always did.
He was so handsome with jeans slung low on narrow hips, a grey and black plaid shirt rucked up to his elbows, and boots that had travelled miles covered in dirt. He had one thick glove on his left hand and the other tucked into his back pocket as he held his phone with his right.
He leaned on the stable door, his head bowed, handsome face grim. “Yeah, I’ve had two so far.” He closed his eyes. “Actually, that might be true. I haven’t been coughing as much lately.”
My hands balled beside me. Who the hell is he talking to?
He listened to whomever was on the phone for a long moment, before kicking the stable door softly as if he wanted to rage but wasn’t prepared to pick up the aftermath of ruin. “I have another treatment in two weeks or so.” He shook his head, his dark, unruly hair tumbling. “No, no side effects.”
I crumpled word by word, unable to tear my eyes off him.
This was worse than my nightmares.
This was real.
“Yeah, I know. A test would be good. I want to know if I’m responding, too.” He raked a hand through his hair. “Okay, sure.”
I pulled back into the shadows as he turned to face me, his eyes landing on the bales I hid behind. His chocolate gaze glittered, but his jaw was tense and strong. “If it works…how long do I have?”
My heart.
God, my heart.
It was no longer beating and pumping inside me.
It was bleeding and gasping by my feet.
I wanted to scoop it up. I wanted to stop it growing cold and discarded and covered in old manure, but I couldn’t because Ren pinched his nose, then looked at the ceiling as if he stared at God and cursed him.
“That’s not enough,” he groaned. “I’m-I’m getting married—”
Whoever he spoke to cut him off, and his gaze fell to the ground. “I know. Yeah, stay positive, I’ll try.” Running a hand over his face, he murmured, “Thank you.” He punched the disconnect button, threw his phone to the floor, and collapsed against the stable door.
With his knees up around his ears, he picked up a piece of hay and twirled it in the most dejected, terribly broken way that my heart crawled from its manure grave and hauled itself back into my chest, desperate to go to him even smeared and dirty and dying.
“Fuck,” Ren whispered. “Fuck.”
* * * * *
Staring into my reflection, I let the tears fall.
A girl I didn’t recognise stared back at me. A girl with eyes the colour of grief and hair the pigment of sorrow.
Ren was already in bed, watching something on TV, waiting for me to finish my shower so we could snuggle together and lose our troubles in a movie that would never have the power of forget.
I’d left Ren in the stable.
He didn’t know I’d heard.
He didn’t know I knew…
Knew that he was sick enough to no longer look at the seasons as four adventures but four wheels pushing him closer to the one thing I never thought would be our enemy.
Not until decades from now.
Not until we’d raised children and grown sick of each other and became cranky and grey.
Death.
My fingertips pressed against the glass, tracing the tears on my cheeks in the coolness of the mirror.
I was naked.
Hair drenched from my shower and water still dripping over me.
I was cold.
Nipples pebbled, and skin raised with goosebumps.
I was empty.
Silent on the outside, screaming on the inside.
The mirror lied when it painted a picture of a girl just standing there crying. It should show the truth—the reality that I was hair tugging, skin bleeding, nails scratching, voice yelling, fists flailing, and knees bruised from begging for salvation.
I was chaos not calm.
A sob caught in my throat as I reached into the medicine cabinet and pulled out my nightly ritual.
Face cream applied.
Teeth brushed.
Pill…
The tiny pill sat in my palm—no longer just a drug designed to keep me free from pregnancy but a small, ticking explosive.
Time had once again screwed us.
It had given me to Ren too young.
It had granted only a few wonderful years when we could touch and kiss and love.
And now…it’d taken away our future as cruelly as it had shoved us into one before we were ready.
The pill.
The magical little pill that stopped things from happening.
And time, the demonic power that sped up all things.
Ren had asked how long he had.
When you asked that question, the answer was never good.
We were on borrowed days now, on bartered minutes, and bargained seconds.
My palm tipped sideways, and the pill scattered down the plughole.
Our dreams were slashed…all but one.
We didn’t have the luxury of waiting.
Catching my eye one last time in the mirror, I dressed in the boy shorts and cami I wore to sleep, turned out the light, and went to bed where, for now…my lover still waited for me.
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
REN
* * * * * *
2021
“I DON’T THINK I can do this anymore.”
Another week of lying, sneaking, and hiding.
Outwardly, Della still smiled at me, accepted my kisses, and talked to me, but inwardly…she’d gone.
I didn’t know how to explain it.
The empty feeling whenever I touched her. The heartache whenever we kissed—she’d pulled away even while her body was still mine.
I’d hurt her enough to shut down, and that fucking tore me into shreds.
John raised his head, his big paws curling around his coffee cup.
We’d started at sunrise today, thanks to spring arriving overnight with warm air, bright sun, and grass sprouting from the ground at a visible rate.
The farm had woken up from hibernation, demanding to be tended.
“I told you from the start to tell her.” He gnawed on his inner cheek, his wrinkles tightening around his eyes. “She knows something isn’t right.”
“I know.” I sighed heavily.
She’d always been too aware of me. Too smart for her own good.
John smiled sadly. “I know you’re trying to protect her, but you’re only hurting both of you.” His eyes drifted with memories. “I didn’t know Patty was close to leaving me—none of us did. The suddenness was what made it so hard. The fact that we didn’t have time to say goodbye or look for hope or tick off a bucket list. She was here, and then she wasn’t.” He gulped, his knuckles turning white around his coffee mug. “You aren’t going anywhere, Ren. Not for a very long time—”
“You heard what the doctors said, I only have a few—”
“Stop. You didn’t let me finish. I was going to say…you aren’t going anywhere, but we’re realistic to know you have a fight ahead of you, and you need her by your side. We all want to be by your side. Liam, Cassie…”
“I know.” I slugged my coffee in one gulp.
What the hell am I doing?
The distance between me and Della wasn’t worth any price.
I needed to fix this.
I needed to tell her.
Somehow.
I stood from the table. “You’re the best boss in the world, John, but I’m gonna stand you up today.” I coughed a little. “Gotta take a few days off.”
“Told you you didn’t need to work while you’re—”
“I’m not an invalid,” I snapped. “Not yet, anyway. I want
to work…just not when I’ve fucked up and need to fix it.”
He chuckled. “Well, I’m docking your pay.”
I smiled at his joke. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.” Marching to the back door, my legs filled with nervous energy. I’d woken this morning with an itinerary of fertilizing and weed-killing the back pastures. Nothing on that agenda said I’d finally have the guts to tell the love of my life I was dying.
But I couldn’t keep lying anymore.
I had another treatment next week. Depending on how well it went, I’d be tested to see if I’d responded. Either good news or bad…I wanted Della to be there.
“Before you go.” John lugged his bulk from the chair and moved toward the shelf where Patricia had grabbed the sex education book for an eight-year-old Della all those years ago. Pulling an envelope free, he came toward me. “No arguments, Ren. None, you hear me?”
I eyed him. “Depends…what is it?”
“I know you’ve been lucky enough to enter an off-label trial for your age group. But we don’t know how long that’ll last.” Shoving the envelope into my hands, he muttered, “This is for after. Just in case.”
Tearing it open, I didn’t find cash like I had on my first pay packet.
Instead, I found a contract.
A contract written up between Cherry River Farm and me, its employee.
John had found a way to pay for my treatment by legally making me his worker—someone who now paid tax with a notable salary. Someone who could receive healthcare.
My eyes met his. “How many times are you going to meddle in my future, John?”
He chuckled. “As many times as it takes.” Patting my shoulder, he nudged his chin at the door. “Go. Find your girl. Make it right between you.”
“This discussion isn’t over.” I shoved the contract into my back pocket. “I’m not putting you in debt. No matter how you word it in fine print.”
“Yeah, yeah. Go.”
I gave him a final look, amazed that in my short life I’d been victim to the worst of evil and son to the best of them.
Stepping outside, I squinted against the rays of fierce sunshine. Yesterday, it seemed as if winter would never leave, and this morning, spring had well and truly kicked its ass.
I hoped the nice weather stuck around for a while because where we were going, we’d have enough to deal with to worry about snow.
Jogging into the barn, I tried not to get my hopes up that my usual breathlessness was better today. That I hadn’t coughed as much. That the ache had faded somewhat.
I’d had two treatments of Keytruda, and, so far, I was lucky.
Barely any side effects and if possible…already some signs that the experiential immunotherapy was working.
Please, please, God, let it be working.
Tossing the gear we’d need into one backpack, I ensured we had water and snares and my knives were sharp and ready. Slipping on a black jacket that had seen better days, I hoisted the backpack onto my shoulders and made my way over the cobblestones to our one bedroom.
The Wilson’s guest bedroom was all well and good for now, but soon I’d need to figure out a way to give Della the house she deserved. A home of our own…before it was just hers.
Opening the door, I caught Della perched on the end of the bed dressed in her riding gear. Jodhpurs that clung to curves and a tweed coat that brushed her thighs.
Her hair was plaited down her back with her blue ribbon in a bow at the end. “Ren.” Guilt echoed in her tone as she slammed the laptop closed and tossed it onto the unmade sheets beside her. “What are you doing back so soon?” Her eyes travelled over me, making my body harden. “And why do you look like you’re going camping?”
“Because we are.” Moving toward her, I grabbed her wrist and pulled her from the bed. “What were you looking at?”
“Nothing.” Her eyes narrowed with her lie.
“Were you researching something?”
Her head tilted. “Should I be?”
“Depends.”
“On what?”
“On how much you already know.”
She gasped. “Are you going to tell me what I should know?”
My heart pounded. “I can’t keep lying to you.”
Tears welled in her gaze. “Does that mean I can stop hating you?”
I walked into her, slotting her body against mine. “I think it will only make you hate me more.”
She flinched, burrowing her face in my chest.
Squeezing her tight, we shared a hug full of sadness before I coughed gently and ruined it.
Her eyes met mine as I pulled away, reaching for her hand. “We need to talk.”
“I was afraid you were going to say that.” Her tongue licked as a tear rolled past her lips. “What if…what if I’m not ready? For weeks, I thought I was. I’ve been so angry that you’ve lied…but now?” Her face drained of colour. “I don’t know if I’m ready, Ren.”
Kissing her sweetly, I stared into her, wishing I could protect her.
Wishing I could change our future.
Wishing I could stop this.
“Let’s go home, Della Ribbon. And then…we’ll talk.”
* * * * *
We set up the tent in silence.
The once familiar tasks a little rusty as we grabbed nylon and inserted poles.
Firewood had already been collected. A snare already set. Our camp as homey as I could make it.
The tent was the last thing, and the minute it was up and pegged securely to the ground, I spread out our yoga mats and made up a sleeping bag bed.
Della didn’t enter the tent. She drifted around the camp with an aura of loss and fear, kicking at pine cones and tugging her braid.
I let her drift because I needed the camp to be as perfect as I could before I told her…because once I did? Nothing else would matter.
Time was no longer relative.
Some days dragged with hazards and peril—every second doing its best to remind me that I no longer had the privilege of old age. And some days flashed past with peace and positivity—every heartbeat doing its best to assure me that I could beat the timeline the doctors gave me.
I’d been in Keytruda forums.
I’d read miracles and tragedies.
I aimed to be a goddamn miracle because there was no way I could leave Della yet. She was still so young; so pure and perfect. I didn’t want to be the reason she faded and found life anything less than extraordinary.
Once my chores were complete and I had nothing left to distract myself with, I looked up to where Della hovered.
It was as if she knew before I spoke a word. And I was stupid to think she didn’t. So idiotic to believe she hadn’t figured out something was wrong…seriously fucking wrong.
The forest became thick with everything we couldn’t say. Birds quietened. Trees stilled. Time itself slowed so we stood in a nucleus where nothing could touch us.
Her gaze shouted, her body swaying a little in disbelief to whatever she saw on my face.
Finally, when the strain grew too much to bear, I spread my hands in surrender with a dismal shrug. “I’m so sorry, Della.”
I expected a fight.
She was angry and hurting and, whenever those two emotions combined, she was vicious. But instead, she folded in on herself as if some beast crumpled her like a discarded piece of manuscript—erasing part of our story, deleting all the chapters that could have been.
With the softest, saddest cry, she broke into a run and slammed into my arms.
I stumbled backward, holding her, hugging her, stabilising both of us as her heart pounded against mine.
“I don’t know what I was thinking,” I murmured into her hair. “How I thought I could protect you from this. Please…forgive me.”
She shook her head, face wedging against my shoulder. “Don’t. Please don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t tell me. Don’t make it real.”
I s
ighed, pressure banding and pain throbbing. “It’s real. Whether I tell you or not, it’s real.”
Her arms squeezed me harder. “But you’re mine. You’re mine.”
“And I’ll always stay yours.” My lips feathered on her temple, gulping back my first taste of bitter honesty. “No matter where I go.”
Another bone deep sound came from her, making me rock on my heels as she wriggled closer.
How the fuck could I do this?
How could I voice something so tragic when all I wanted to do was pretend I was fine?
But a cough reminded me I wasn’t fine.
I was slowly dying.
I didn’t know how long we stood there—both of us petrified, both of us understanding what this meant. Every touch from here on out would have a different flavour. Every smile would be treasured and counted. Every laugh would be hoarded and noted.
Nothing would be taken for granted.
That sort of connection and awareness could make life utterly exhausting—doing our best to scribble down memories and strive for more achievements.
But that was the thing, I didn’t want to race the clock and fill our lives with empty meaning. I didn’t need to complete a bucket list or travel or seek cheap thrills.
I had everything I ever wanted, needed, and valued right there in my arms.
There was only one thing I needed, and it would be the hardest thing I’d ever ask of her. “Della…” Pulling away so I could see her face, I cupped her cheeks. “I’ll tell you anything you want to know—everything I know, at least. But before I do, I need to know something from you.”
Her tears dribbled over my fingers, my thumb running softly over her lips. “Ask me.”
I closed my eyes, hunting for strength. When I opened them again, her tears had stopped, but her sadness still glittered bright.
“I need…” I shook my head, jaw locking. I looked to the side, fighting the crush of despair.
“Ren.” Her fingers dug into my waist. “Ren…look at me.”
It took a monumental effort; her beautiful face danced as liquid dared fill my eyes.
She smiled joylessly before sweeping up and pressing her mouth to mine.
The second she kissed me, I threw myself into her.
I groaned and gathered her close, frenzied in my desire for connection.
The Girl and Her Ren Page 37
