Ren and Della: Boxed Set (Ribbon Duet Book 3)

by Pepper Winters

  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 experimental 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 mi
nute 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 sighed, 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.

  We stumbled again, but this time in undiluted lust.

  Yet another thing that would become so much more. So much more than just sex and kisses and thrusts. Even as my mind imprinted her subtle minty taste and inhaled her light melon fragrance, I did my best to stop.

  To stop kissing her as if I were already gone.

  To stop remembering her as something I’d lost when she was alive and willing in my arms.

  Her teeth teased my bottom lip, making my thoughts scatter. Hunger for her coiled in my belly, and I latched onto the simplicity of desire.

  I’d wanted to be honest and clear the air.

  But Della had once again given me something I didn’t know I needed.

  I missed her so fucking much.

  I’d hurt her and driven her away and deserved her coldness.

  But standing there, surrounded by nature and no one, all that existed between us was heat and passion and devotion.

  There would be time for talking.

  After.

  Scooping her into my arms, I somehow managed to traverse the campsite with its leaf litter and hazardous tripping and carried her into the tent.

  Placing her onto her feet, we kicked off our boots in synchronization before slamming to our knees, praying to each other, sacrificing our hearts, offering up everything we had to be worthy of one more day.

  Her fingers landed in my hair, pulling my head to hers.

  I obeyed, kissing her hard and fast, deep and long.

  How was I supposed to stay strong when I had a girl like Della? How was I supposed to be okay with this?

  I had so many things I needed to do before I went.

  I needed to find a way to provide for her. To protect her future and know she was safe. I needed to have a family with her. To at least see one or two wrinkles on her flawless face.

  Our tongues met, then retreated. Our lips connected, then paused.

  Out of all the things I’d miss, kissing Della was the most.

  “Ren?”

  Her whisper physically hurt me. “Yeah?”

  More tears scattered down her face while she kneeled before me. “Promise me we’ll always be together.” Her hands clutched mine with crazed urgency. “Promise me this isn’t over. Promise me like you promised five-year-old me that you’ll never let me go. Never, ever leave me.”

  Jesus Christ.

  My heart squeezed, and I wrapped her in my arms, dragging her onto my lap.

  I wanted so fucking much to be able to promise. I would’ve given anything to assure her we had forever. That there wasn’t a guillotine already poised above my neck.

  I should do what I’d always done and protect her.

  Fuck, I should protect her.

  But my lungs burned, my back ached, and my body prodded me to be brave. “I will always love you.” My avoidance of her promises wrenched a sob from her lungs. Her legs squeezed around my waist, her breath hitching with sorrow.

  “I’ll never stop, Della Ribbon.” Her curls stuck to my lips as I inhaled her sweet scent. “Not until life rips me from your arms. And even then…it’s not goodbye.”

  A cough tumbled from my mouth.
A cough that made her stiffen and arms tighten.

  Kissing her, I murmured, “I promise that every breath I take is for you. I’ve never loved anyone else and I never will.”

  She crawled closer, kissing me with a fury that threatened to make me snap. “My heart has always belonged to you.”

  “I know.” My voice broke, and I fisted her hair to kiss her hard.

  My body tightened, my heart pounded, and by the time the kiss ended, I was lightheaded and out of breath, and I didn’t know if it was from her or the disease inside me.

  The doctors had warned me that as I progressed, my strength would go. I’d lose weight. I’d struggle to breathe. I’d fade away piece by piece.

  That was my utmost terror.

  That Della would remember me that way.

  “I need you to promise me something.” I didn’t tear my mouth from hers, speaking directly into her. “Promise me that you’ll remember me like this. That you’ll stay with me. That you won’t hate me for dy—”

  “Stop. I-I can’t.” Her lips twisted beneath mine.

  “Can’t promise you’ll stay by me while I go through—”

  “Can’t hear you say the word dying. Please, Ren.” Her eyes met mine, so close and somber.

  The knowledge I was the one causing her so much pain crippled me. “I thought I could do this.” My neck bowed, my forehead touching hers. “But I can’t. Not yet.”

  “Me, too. I’m not ready.”

  “I need you, Della.”

  Her hands fumbled on my belt, ripping open the buckle and unzipping my fly. “You have me. Always.”

  I half-smiled, repeating what she said as if it were a vow. “Always.” As if that one word linked us beneath the eyes of nature, binding us better than any wedding ceremony.

  Her hand dove between us, slipping into my boxers and fisting me.

  My breath caught at the sudden shot of pleasure, and all I wanted to do was give in. We needed to lose ourselves from reality for a while, but I placed my hand over hers.

  “Wait.” I coughed quietly.

  Her eyes met mine, wincing. “Why?”

  Why?

  Because we had so little time.

  Because I needed so much more than I already had.