And unfortunately, once that idea was formed…there was no going back.
As we rode into the farm as dusk fell and Ren appeared from the stable with his reserved smile, tanned skin, and perfect love, I tore my gaze from his dark soulful eyes. As he asked about our ride and helped untack our horses, I kept my thoughts buried and my body averted from his hugs.
And when night-time descended, I lay in bed mulling over Cassie’s words.
Over and over again.
Ruining myself, condemning myself until I had no other path to take.
“Well, my suggestion is to kiss someone you love with all your heart. Don’t settle for a cheap thrill. Save it for the person who means the world to you.”
In bold, it looks just as bad as my last confession of being in love with Ren Wild.
Her advice wasn’t meant to be taken the way I took it.
She didn’t mean to kiss the only boy I’d ever known.
She didn’t mean to set in action something that I’d regret for the rest of my life.
I knew that then, and I know that now.
But did it stop me?
Of course not.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
REN
* * * * * *
2013
DELLA HAD BEEN out of sorts for the past few days.
I tried to ignore it and give her space. I trusted that if it was important, she’d tell me, and if it wasn’t, then I didn’t want to pry.
However, the day after she got back from her ride with Cassie, she was standoffish and strange. She refused to eat dinner with me. She gave me her back the moment she slipped into bed. She didn’t want to watch TV or study or do anything that involved spending time with me.
I tried not to be hurt by her behaviour, but I lay awake most of the night missing my best friend and wondering how the hell I could fix what I’d most assuredly broken because her mood must be my fault.
Why else did she hate me?
By the time the next afternoon rolled around, I finished early, had a shower so I didn’t smell of sweat and earth, and used the Wilson’s barbecue to make Della’s favourite: honey covered yams with brown sugar and soy sauce roasted chicken. I even threw on a few foil-wrapped bananas with maple syrup, indulging in her sweet tooth on all three elements of the meal.
When she returned from school, she gave me a weird smile, opened her mouth as if to say something, then darted into our bedroom.
She returned a little while later with blonde hair dark and damp down her back from a shower, and a turquoise summer dress with a heavy knit cream jumper to ward off the spring evening chill.
I cleared my throat. “I made us dinner.”
The weirdness in her faded when she pulled up the barbecue lid and spied the deliciousness underneath. “Wow, everything I love.” Her eyes gleamed with what suspiciously looked like tears before she blinked them away and beamed just like normal. “Thanks so much. You’re the best.”
The Della I knew and loved was still hiding, but for now, I’d settle for the reserved little woman smiling at me. I couldn’t stop my arms from grabbing her in a bone-crushing hug.
I held her so damn hard, wanting to delete the strangeness between us, wishing I could ask what she hid from me.
There were too many unsaid things these days and it made me nervous, as if I’d already lost her when she was still in my arms.
She returned my embrace but not as fierce as she usually would, and when I let her go, she sprang away quickly, when normally, she’d linger. We always lingered around each other. We liked each other’s company. I liked to know she was in reaching distance if she needed help. And she liked to snuggle up and make me laugh.
Where had that ease gone?
Why did her smiles make my heart thud in familiarity and foreignness at the same time?
It seemed she no longer needed that closeness, and I did my best to ignore the pain as we sat down on the outdoor picnic set at the bottom of the garden to enjoy our meal.
With birds roosting in trees, Della regaled me of tales about school and teachers and how she was excited to start high school because she wanted to learn the hard stuff and was done with primary.
I nodded and grinned and fixated on the shiny blue ribbon that she’d tied around her throat in a choker.
She’d often used the ribbon as a bracelet or even tied it around her ankle once, but this was the first time she’d used it as a necklace, and I couldn’t take my eyes off the way it showed off her stark collarbones.
She looked like she’d lost weight.
She looked older, wiser, moodier.
If she was losing weight, why wasn’t she eating? Was it school? Was she being bullied? I made a mental note to ask Cassie if she knew anything while I piled another piece of chicken onto her plate.