The Boy and His Ribbon (The Ribbon Duet 1)

I merely shrugged when she raised an eyebrow in question.

Even though the atmosphere between us was a little strained, we smiled and laughed and pretended everything was normal.

So many things lately had been pushing us apart. The knowledge that something festered beneath the surface that neither of us was addressing itched at me just as much as returning to the forest did.

Strange to think I’d only been a boy when I’d found my calling of living in the trees, yet as a man, I’d never accept anything else for my home.

Regardless that circumstances like these made me hunger for space more often than when things were good between us, I forced away such thoughts and focused on Della.

I hated to think of her growing away from me, but at the same time, I welcomed it because it meant she was becoming her own person. I despised the thought of her one day not sharing everything with me and having her own secrets and shadows, but that was a guarantee and yet another piece of growing up that I had to accept.

I didn’t know how John and Patricia did it—watching their kids grow from entirely dependent to utterly independent.

It was heart-soaring and soul-crushing all at the same time.

We finished our meal in silence, sipping on fresh glasses of milk and staring at wildflowers dancing in the evening breeze. The chill turned icy as I took her plate and told her to get warm in our bedroom.

She shook her head and followed me to the kitchen instead, standing beside me as I washed the dishes. She dried away the bubbles, and together, we walked from the Wilson’s home to ours in the barn and closed the door on the world.

Normally, the sense of contentedness overflowed the moment we were back just the two of us.

Tonight though, nervousness flowed instead, and I didn’t swap my jeans for pyjama bottoms like I usually did. For some reason, my instincts were on high alert, and the element of danger wasn’t coming from outside the room but within it.

From her.

From my Little Ribbon who perched on the edge of her bed alive and brittle and not paying any attention to the movie we’d chosen.

To be fair, I didn’t have a clue what we watched, and by the time she yawned and the clock said it was time to sleep, my heart whirred with smoke and anxious anticipation.

Of what, I didn’t know, but as we said goodnight and climbed into bed, I lay in the dark waiting for an attack…just not knowing where it would come from.

* * * * *

I had a dream.

A nonsense kind of dream of darkness and trees and winter.

I’d lost something in the dark, and no matter how fast I ran, no matter how hard I searched, I couldn’t find it.

It wasn’t a simple trinket I’d lost but something fundamental. Something that would kill me if I didn’t find it.

I kept searching, kept hoping, only to run through vast sections of emptiness, finding nothing.

I didn’t know how long I ran for or where the trees disappeared to the longer I sprinted in nothingness, but eventually, sunlight beckoned, and I chased harder, faster. My legs burned. My lungs tore.

But I kept running, kept gasping until the one thing I wanted more than anything found me.

A figure appeared from the darkness.

A woman with flowing blonde hair and white angelic dress.

I slammed into her, halting my chase, welcoming me home.

I moaned at the feel of rightness. The sense of belonging. The knowledge of finding the one person I was meant to find after all this time.

Then I stopped breathing as perfect lips pressed against mine.

Soft and hesitant.

Innocent and testing.

I couldn’t see the face of my dream-kisser, but I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, she was the one I’d been searching for. She was the one born for me. She was the one I needed to find before I lost everything.

I closed my eyes and gave into the dream.

I didn’t try to see her face or know who she was.

All I wanted in that moment was to live beneath her touch, to taste what she gave me, to bow to whatever gift I was worth.

Lips pressed harder, hesitation mixing with determination.

It was as awkward as my first and just as intense.

My heart thundered all around me in the dark forest where I stood.

The innocence of mouths touching but no tongue or deeper invitation wrecked me until my knees buckled, and I collapsed before my dream-kisser.

Lips vanished. Breath caught.

And I groaned for more, to not be abandoned by those I loved, to not fear the future where I might be alone, to not have to clutch something so hard only to lose it anyway.

She heard me.

Lips returned, pressing sweetly, worshiping kindly, and I fell in ways I’d never been able to fall before.