Thanks to Della, I could read, write, spell, and wrangle technology enough to be proficient. Even when we’d moved away from the Wilsons and our regular study sessions were replaced with long hours at the milking shed and Della traded me for other boys, I hadn’t stopped learning.
Instead of Della being the one to choose which textbook or subject I’d study, I merely went through her school rucksack on the nights I wasn’t exhausted and read science books, math, English, then stole a few pieces of paper to work out the answers before checking mine against hers.
She’d caught me once or twice and had rushed over to kiss me. But then, she’d remembered that kissing wasn’t exactly permitted anymore and would pat my shoulder with a strained smile instead.
I knew she was proud of me for continuing my studies, but I didn’t do it for me. I did it for her. I did it so I could converse and calculate and not have to rely on her because I knew my job as her caregiver was almost over, and she would leave me for better things.
And when that day happened, I couldn’t afford to be illiterate without her.
Then again, I’d left her before she’d left me.
And now…now there was a chance we would never be apart again.
My heart cramped with a hope so vicious it made me shake.
My fingers typed slowly, deleting my regular typos, hoping my spelling was on point. I wanted to be honest with her. I needed to be. She needed to know just what she was getting into because this was me putting everything on the line. This was me ripping up my world when I still didn’t fully understand if I could.
Me: I don’t know if I’ll ever be fully ready. If this was happening to someone else, and not you and me, how repulsed would you be if you knew the man was contemplating sleeping with his own kid?
Goddammit.
I sat forward, digging my elbows into my knees and wiping my mouth with my hand.
Fuck.
Seeing it in black and white, reading how foul that sounded, I very almost dry-heaved. What the hell was I doing? I’d been driven by my desire for so long that I’d forgotten what this actually entailed. What sort of sins we were about to commit. What sort of mess we were about to create.
This wasn’t me.
I wasn’t this self-obsessed.
I ought to be her father figure.
I ought to be better—
Della: First, I’m not your kid. I never felt like you were my father, and there was never any confusion about what we meant to each other. Second, forget about everyone else. They don’t matter. I couldn’t judge on another’s life just like I don’t want them to judge us.
My head hung as I ran my fingers over the touchpad. She was right, I supposed. For some reason, we’d always clung to the boundaries that we weren’t blood or related, almost as if we knew eventually we’d want more than just friendship.
Before I could reply, she sent another.
Della: You told me this afternoon that we were going to talk. And we’re talking. But if I’m honest, I don’t think this can be rationalised by text message. You asked me to help you understand that there was no other path for us. That it was always going to end this way. That we were always meant to be. I’m not just saying what you want to hear, Ren. I truly believe that. And the only way to come to terms with it is to just…trust me, trust you, trust us.
I sighed.
Her message was a lot kinder in black and white than mine had been. She’d successfully thrown my own words in my face, making me see there was no other choice for us. Even if she hadn’t kissed me and firmly imprinted herself into my dreams, I would have eventually fallen for her because a man like me, I didn’t love easy. I didn’t trust easy. It’d taken me seventeen years to even admit I was ready to put my heart on the line in a romantic sense rather than family.
Cassie had known that about me. She’d sensed that I would never care more for her than gentle affection because I was too afraid to open myself up to pain.
Della was the only one worth risking such agony.
And as much as I’d vehemently deny it, I’d already been hurt by the Mclary’s which sort of gave Della permission in a strange, unfathomable away.
She was the only one allowed to hurt me in the future.
I opened a new window and typed slowly:
Me: Are you willing to let me work through this? Do you understand it won’t be an overnight switch for me? It’s going to take time.
The moon hung heavy above, reminding me that it had been too long since I’d been in the forest. As much as I needed to live in the apartment to stay close to my addiction of stalking Della, I’d had my fill of cities.
I hadn’t liked living here when Della was finishing school. There was no way I wanted to live here while we figured out whatever we were about to embark on. We’d had a near miss with her principal with rumours of her being in love with me. A mere rumour almost separated us. Now it was fact, we stood every chance of being ripped apart.
This had always felt like a temporary place. A chapter that didn’t quite fit.
If it was over and we could go home...thank God.
Della took her time replying, and I reclined against the pigeon-crapped bench, exhaling hard.
Della: I can’t promise I won’t get frustrated. I can’t say I won’t get mad if you kiss me, then pull away. But what I can promise is, I’ve wanted this since I was thirteen, and if you need another thirteen years to accept that I was born for you, then so be it. I’ll be patient.
I chuckled quietly, wincing as it turned to a cough.
I doubted she meant to be funny, but even now, her temper came through something as impersonal as a text. Somehow, it made me feel better—as if I wasn’t such a monster to contemplate such a crazy idea as taking her for my own.
Me: If we do this, we can’t do it here.
Della: I know.
Me: Don’t say you know as if nothing else matters. We need to think about this. You’re in college. When does your course end? You’re with David. How will he take you breaking up with him? What about your job at the florist? We have an apartment and furniture to get rid of. Are you prepared to say goodbye to another home?
It took much longer for me to type such long sentences than Della, and my leg bounced as I pressed send, nervousness trickling through my blood. It wasn’t a simple matter of running like previous times. We had things holding us here. We had bills and people. Or at least…Della did. She was more adult than I was in this scenario, and once again, my mind tripped down memory lane, feeding me images of her young and innocent and untouchable, doing its best to unhinge my resolve that this was what I wanted. No matter how hard.
Della: I’ve already written regarding my course and withdrawn, stating a family emergency. I used part of the rent money to pay for the first semester—which I doubt I’ll get back. But where we’re going, we don’t need the cash. I quit my job a while back. I’m not dating David; he turned me down when he realised I wasn’t over you, and the apartment is easy. Terminate the lease, put our furniture back on the street corners where we got them from, pack a bag and…let’s go home.
My heart pounded as a breeze kissed my cheek, tugging me toward the black spaces where the city lights didn’t reach. The darkness full of leaves and rivers.
Home.
I knew where my home was.
Did she?
Me: Home means no running water, no supermarkets, no roof. Are you sure you want that?
Della: I don’t know if reminding you of a younger me is a good idea, but on the night of my seventeenth and your twenty-seventh, I gave you that tent. Remember what I said?
I groaned under my breath. That was one memory that wasn’t just remembered but polished daily and treasured. She’d let me see behind her fakery that night. She’d painted a future that I’d desperately wanted, even while believing it could never happen.
Me: You asked if I intended to stay here and said we had to start thinking about our future. That you wanted to return to
the forest, and that’s why you bought me that tent.
Della: And you asked if I was sure. You made a point to tell me there would be no boys, no jobs, no school. No future out there in the wilderness.
Me: And you set me straight by saying there was no future apart from with me.
I looked at the moon again, tension slipping away. I was torturing myself about wanting Della as deeply as I did when, for so many years, I’d already been living with the same sin. I’d already accepted the mess, even then. And I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardise it now. Not when we were so close.
My lips curled into a hesitant smile as my mind raced with everything we’d have to achieve. Every goodbye we had to finalise. Every beginning we were about to embrace.
Standing from the bench and striding toward the apartment, hopefully for the last time, my fingers flew, and I sent.
Me: Pack a bag. We leave in two days.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
REN
* * * * * *
2018
TWO DAYS
Forty-eight hours to delete our entire existence as the Wilds.
Della and I kept our distance while we systematically dismantled our world. She focused on selling, donating, and sorting through her stuff at David’s house, while I lugged our fifth-hand couch up the steps of our place, and dragged it to the same street corner we’d salvaged it from.
My body proved just how badly I’d treated it the past few months and the residual cough from the flu made tasks last longer than I wanted.
I didn’t like that Della had refused to sleep at our apartment, insisting that she owed David too much to abandon him without explaining and they needed a proper goodbye.
The urge to forbid her—the desire to beg her to be with me instead, proved I needed to keep my possessiveness in check. I’d never stopped her from hanging with her friends before.
I wouldn’t start now.
Instead, I threw myself into my tasks, doing my best to tie up loose ends quickly so Della was mine and we could leave.
Scrawling a hasty poster, I announced a one-day garage sale and opened our apartment to anyone who wanted cutlery, crockery, bedding, an ancient TV, decrepit motorcycle, and anything else we couldn’t carry.
I made sure to wash and pack clothes for both Della and me. Winter jackets, summer t-shirts, and every season in between. She still had her bag that we’d bought when we left the Wilsons, and I studiously ensured our rations and belongings were evenly distributed, even though I put all the heavy stuff into mine. The two pots for cooking, the many lighters I couldn’t function without, the multiple knives I carried even though I constantly had at least three on my person at all times.
Della messaged me on the first day of our self-eviction from this city and said she’d called the landlord, cancelled our lease, and asked for our returned bond to be paid in cash. We didn’t have a fixed contract anymore, so we weren’t breaking any rules, and I left her in charge of cutting off the electricity and gas, leaving the apartment as dark as the forest on my last night in so-called civilisation.
With Della staying one last night at David’s, I bunkered down in the empty space, lying on a thin yoga mat I’d stolen a few months ago in the very same sleeping bag I’d washed and prepared for our upcoming disappearance back home.
All that existed from the life we’d created in this apartment were empty walls and lonely carpet. Not one plate left in the cupboards, not a single blanket left in the laundry.
All gone.
My phone buzzed in the darkness.
Della: I know we said I’d swing by our place and stuff the rest of my clothes into the backpack you have prepared for me, but…David has requested you come here.
I shot upright, jack-knifing off the floor.
What the fuck for?
Ignoring my chugging heart, I wrote back:
Me: What did you tell him? Is he planning on killing me? Does he have a gun?
Della: What? Don’t be ridiculous. He won’t kill you. And I told him the truth. He already knew it anyway.
Me: Goddammit, Della. I feel sick about this already without being judged by him. I’m the guy who raised you, who is now stealing you into a life of uncertainty, and who stole you from him. Of course, he wants to kill me.
Della: He wants to understand. That’s all. Love hasn’t been kind to him either, Ren. And you did beat him up, after all. You kind of owe him an apology.
Me: I beat him up because he stole you from me.
She took a long time to reply, and I could hear her thoughts as if they were my own. He didn’t steal me. You pushed me into his arms. He didn’t take my virginity. I gave it to him as I was over being hurt by you.
My shoulders slouched, and I reclined back into my sleeping bag, cursing myself all over again. By the time her message buzzed in the dark, I was ready to agree to whatever she wanted if only to try to make amends to her, David, and frankly, even to myself.
Della: Closure, Ren. I think we both need it. I think you need to understand what we’re doing. You need to accept that we’re leaving together—just like old times. But unlike old times, we know exactly what we’re going to do out there…alone. You can’t lie to yourself anymore. You can’t imagine a life of happiness with us side by side and believe it will be like before. It will be better. Because this time, we aren’t lying. We ARE going to sleep with each other. We ARE going to learn about each other on an entirely different level. And if you can’t accept that in front of David, then…I’m actually terrified that you’ll never be able to accept it. What’s to stop you from changing your mind if this gets too hard? What if you can’t stop the images of me as a kid when you see me naked? What if you break down the moment you slip inside me and can’t go through with this? Where does that leave me? What will that mean for us? I want this, Ren. You have no idea how MUCH I want this. But I’m also so scared because if this doesn’t work, if you can’t accept it, then I’ll lose so much more than just a lover. I’ll lose you all over again, and not having you was the worst thing I’ve ever endured.
My breathing was loud and heavy. My eyes flying over her message again and again. We were no longer talking about David. She’d somehow opened the vault of her terrors and shared them with me. I hadn’t stopped to think how hard this would be from her point of view. I’d returned to her, told her I was in love with her, flipped her entire world upside down, and asked to take her away from the people who knew her, all with only a vague promise that we would try for more.
There was no guarantee this could work.
I couldn’t promise I could get past my ethics.
Of course, she panicked and didn’t believe me.
Of course, she doubted me when I’d kept so many boundaries between us for so long.
I didn’t know if I’d ever be able to make her see that my mind was made up—even if there would be struggles along the way. I was willing to work through them because I’d do anything required to keep her.
Once again, before I could put my thoughts in order, she sent another message.
Della: Sorry, Ren. I…I don’t know where that came from. Just please, tomorrow when we leave, come collect me from David’s. Say goodbye to him and Natty. Hug me in front of him. Tell him what I’ve been telling him for months. Let him be the first to see you do mean this. That I’m not imagining it. That this is real. Please…
The glowing phone lit up the empty bedroom where Della had slept innocently for so many years, all while I’d banished myself to the pull-out couch, desperate for distance. Certain that if I could keep physical distance between us, it would manifest into emotional distance, too.
It never did.
It’d only made my need for her increase because all my life, I’d been used to sleeping with her beside me, of her breathing in the night, of her warmth in the dark.
And I’d forbidden myself to have that comfort the moment her kiss changed everything.
Was it weak to admit that I’d been living a
half-life since the day we left Cherry River? Was it twisted to acknowledge that I’d gone from having affection and kisses from the one person I loved more than anyone, to months on end of no touch, all because I couldn’t understand how a hug could hold so many different languages and complications?
I wasn’t fluent enough to hug her while pretending it was platonic.
I wasn’t brave enough to touch her while masking every unsaid craving between us.
And now, Della wanted me to hug her in front of David.
But that wasn’t what she was asking.
She was asking me to stop pretending. Begging me to stop fighting, to finally permit myself to sink into those cravings, knowing full well I would never be able to swim back out.
She was afraid I could walk away from her after this.
Afraid I was about to steal her entire life and leave her broken when I realised I couldn’t do it, after all.
But it was the wrong thing to be afraid of.
What she should fear was the part of me I’d kept hidden from her.
For seventeen years, she’d brought out the best in me. She’d nurtured my sense of honour, duty, and devotion to the point where she didn’t know any different.
She never glimpsed the other part of me.
The part that had steadily grown worse the longer I denied myself what I wanted.
The savage part.
The violent part.
The first person to see it was Cassie.
After our first time having sex, she’d chuckled and told me I was far more dominating than her other lovers. That the boy who used to flinch when she kissed him was no more.
Ren and Della: Boxed Set (Ribbon Duet Book 3) Page 50
