The Girl and Her Ren (The Ribbon Duet 2)

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.