The Boy and His Ribbon (The Ribbon Duet 1)

I never stopped to think that sleeping next to her would be seen as inappropriate and never viewed our relationship from an outsider’s point of view.

Della would kiss me often. Smacking my lips with a strawberry-lip-glossed mouth before running off to class or to play with Liam or help Patricia in her garden or ride with Cassie.

Her quick-fire affection always melted my gruff heart, and she was the only one who could touch something inside me—slipping past my walls, infiltrating my fortresses to remind me that I might not like many humans but I loved one more than I could stand.

Needless to say, both Della and I didn’t sleep that night, or the next, or the next. Our hands somehow found their way from their covers to dangle over the edge and reach for each other, never quite touching no matter how much we wished.

Her ribbon would wrap and drip over her fingers, kissing the dusty floor and reminding me all over again that she wasn’t a baby anymore, but she still had childhood ties.

Eventually, we got used to sleeping apart, and neither of us ever said how much we preferred sleeping in one large bed. I kept my mouth shut as I didn’t want to overstep important boundaries, and I guessed she didn’t feel the same way because after that first week, she went shopping with Cassie and purchased a bedspread covered with leaping horses frolicking in ocean spray, leaving my drab black sheets looking like a black hole in the corner.

The second thing to show the growing distance between us was a mid-summer evening where John opened his paddocks to the public to purchase hay bales directly off the meadow the moment we’d finished baling.

With over two thousand bales to sell and already a barn full of supplies for our own livestock in winter, John put me in charge of choreographing the countless arriving Utes, trucks, and trailer-pulling cars, directing them to appropriate fields and keeping tally of how many bales they took so I could grab the cash as they left.

I’d had a minor panic attack when he waltzed back to the house to do whatever he needed to do. That minor attack turned full blown when the first customer finished loading ten bales and drove toward me manning the exit gate.

The guy with his sunburned nose and stalks of hay on his t-shirt asked, “What do I owe you?” He cocked his head at the back with his loaded hay. “Ten bales at what price?”

I looked at the farmhouse, cursing John and wishing someone, anyone, would come out and help, but no one did. I sucked up my disgrace that all this time I’d never let John know the extent of my illiteracy. I’d never counted in front of him, never read anything. I’d always gotten around doing the books and tabulations because Patricia was an accountant by trade and enjoyed crunching numbers.

“Hey? You hear me? How much?” the guy pushed.

Rubbing the back of my neck, I muttered, “It’s eight dollars a bale so…” I did my best to force a brain that had never been taught arithmetic to perform a miracle.

“Eighty bucks.” The guy grabbed some cash from his pocket and peeled off four twenties. “Here you go.”

Our hands met as he shoved the bills into my palm and gave me a quick nod. He drove away before I could hope to work out if I’d just been ripped off or if that was the correct amount.

A red car started in the distance with a trailer piled high with hay.

I gulped as it turned toward me and the gate.

Shit.

Wedging the cash into my back pocket, my eyes trailed back to the farmhouse, begging for rescue.

And that was when I saw her.

Della.

She leapt out of Cassie’s Corolla, laughing at something Cassie said as they made their way toward the kitchen door. At the last second, Della looked up as if she sensed me staring at her.

Our eyes locked across meadows and driveways, and she waved once.

I waved back, adding a come here motion at the end.

I held my breath. She could go with Cassie. After all, it was school holidays, and she’d been spending a lot of time riding and going to the mall as well as playing with friends her own age.

I still didn’t trust Cassie’s loose morals wouldn’t rub off on her, but I’d been fierce with her on our second or third time sleeping together. I’d flat out warned her if she ever let Della kiss, fondle, or fuck a boy while she was with her, I’d murder her with my bare hands.

She’d laughed.

I hadn’t.

The subject hadn’t been broached since.

Instead of continuing into the house like Liam would’ve done, Della said something quick to Cassie then tore toward me.

Her bony knees flashed beneath her yellow skirt, the matching yellow and white daisy top flopping on her shoulders while her hair gleamed as bright as the sun above.