I didn’t want to tempt fate by seeing what would happen if he got terribly sick again. But those spots on the back of his neck and even one on his cheek above his five o’clock shadow hinted that he was about to endure what I’d gone through.
The next few days, he grew worse.
Somehow, as he grew sicker, I grew stronger, and our roles reversed. I was the one dabbing his flesh with lotion to stop the itch. I was the one dishing out painkillers for his fever, and I was the one carrying soup across the driveway courtesy of Patricia’s awesome cooking skills.
Well, I was the one…until Cassie took over.
She infiltrated our bedroom and sat beside Ren on our bed. She touched his brow and whispered secrets, and all I could do was return to school, hiding the hissing jealousy in my heart and not able to focus at all on what the teacher said.
Cassie had school too, but she always seemed to be in my spot beside Ren when I got dropped off by the bus and there until late when it should just be the two of us.
My frustration steadily grew.
I’d sit in the corner chair with my legs bunched up and my arms wrapped tight around them, glowering at Cassie touching my Ren.
Every time she leaned in and touched his cheek. Every time she laughed at something he mumbled.
Ugh, it was times like that that I hated her all over again.
She’d been so kind and generous to me—letting me ride her favourite pony, teaching me how to canter and jump, and even letting me tag along to a local show when she competed.
I struggled because she was a genuine person and didn’t hang out with me to get to Ren—I would’ve been able to tell; believe me, I was suspicious for a very long time—which made my despising her worse because I felt like a horrible, terrible child, and all I wanted to do was grow up faster so I wouldn’t be so silly and petty.
Funny how I’m older now but whenever I think about Cherry River, I still have both love and hate inside me. I think, if I had to relive that time, I would be just as jealous as I’d been as a seven-year-old, only this time, I’d probably be arrested for murder.
Instead of just hero worship and parental adoration, I now have forbidden cravings and achings and all the things I know I shouldn’t feel.
I know you’re probably thinking…eww, how could you fall in love with your brother who is technically your father and definitely your uncle or some other untouchable life figure?
In my defence, I’ll ask you a similar question.
How could you not fall in love with a boy like Ren Wild?
How could you not fall in love with a boy who puts you first in everything, protects you at all costs, worships the ground you walk on, gives you things you didn’t know you wanted, who can hear your thoughts and see your fears? A boy who sacrificed so much without even telling you, leaving you heartbroken when you’re old enough to figure it out for yourself?
If you’d been taken and raised and cherished by a boy who was closer to your age; therefore, he understood your childish tantrums better, could get in touch with his imagination easier, and have a better ability at discipline because he wasn’t afraid to growl if you got out of line with no grudges or pause between instruction and praise, I think you’d fall in love, too.
Ren was simple.
Ren spoiled me.
Ren kept me in line.
No one else came close.
But it wasn’t his skills at raising me that made me fall in love with him.
Oh, no…
It was everything else that happened as I grew older, and he grew into a man.
I suppose you’re wondering if I’m ever going to enlighten you on our third and fourth separation.
I haven’t forgotten.
I’m just getting up the guts to tell you, because…the more you learn about me from here on out, the more you’ll probably end up rolling your eyes, and thinking I didn’t deserve all the sacrifices Ren made for me.
I had been his Ribbon—special, brave, and smart.
But then, through my own actions, I became argumentative, opinionated, and stupid.
I wish I could say I’d do things differently, but I honestly don’t know if I would.
Crazy, right?
Crazy looking back at the heartache I caused both of us and still selfish enough not to change.
I was the reason we separated that third time.
I was the one who ruined everything.
For so long, I blamed Cassie.
I pinned all the guilt and regret onto her.
But it wasn’t her fault.
As much as I wished I could type a lie and make you hate her just like I did.
I can’t.
The fault was mine.
And I guess, eventually, I’m going to have to tell you.