The Girl and Her Ren (The Ribbon Duet 2)

Her shoulders rounded. “I don’t remember that.”

“It’s because I never told you that particular story. I didn’t want you to think your ribbon was an imposter.” Pinching the wheel back, our fingers kissed and I stroked her softly. “I adored how much you loved that silly piece of blue. And when you finally went to sleep with your face all blotchy from screaming and your breath all short from bawling, I snuck out to find you a new one.”

“Where did you go?”

“Into town. It took all night to find a house with two old folks, a man who liked to tinker with cars in his garage and a woman who liked to scrapbook and had a room full of ribbons, buttons, beads, and stickers.” I smiled sadly, remembering the treasure trove of stuff that Della would’ve adored. “I wanted to steal everything for you, but I only took what was most important. It wasn’t a perfect match. But it was close enough.”

Holding up the ribbon, I let memories paint my voice. “That night, I took the two torn pieces of your ribbon, measured out a new length the same, then spent the rest of the darkness hours doing my best to make the bright blue of the new one look as weathered as yours. I stomped it into the gravel on the driveway. I dragged it through mud and washed it semi-clean. I crumpled it and abused it until it didn’t look so perfect anymore.”

I shrugged. “You woke up the next morning panicked, tears already welling, but I told you it was just a bad dream. That nothing had happened to your ribbon. See? There it was, intact and looped through your hair. The relief on your face, Little Ribbon.” I sighed. “It was worth the sleepless night and dirt beneath my nails to be able to take that sadness away. I didn’t know what it was like to love something that fiercely—not until you came along—and I didn’t want you to know what loss felt like. Not then. Not when you were still so young.”

Tears welled in her beautiful blue gaze, tumbling down her cheeks like the babbling river behind her. “I had no idea.”

“Why would you? I never told you.”

“But…how did I never notice?”

“Because I didn’t wait four years to give you a new one next time. Every year, a few days after our birthday, I’d cut a fresh strand, rub and fade it, then swap it while you were sleeping. Sometimes, the blue was brighter, and you’d study it as if confused. But you never thought to ask why.”

Her arms came up, her fingernails scratching my scalp as she grabbed my hair and yanked me down to her mouth.

Her kiss wasn’t soft with desire. It was sharp with gratefulness.

Born from innocence, tainted with confusion, but wholeheartedly flavoured with love. Deep, blistering, endless fucking love.

“I didn’t think it would be possible to care for you any more than I already do,” she murmured against my mouth. “You’ve just broken my heart, Ren.” She kissed me again, mixing salt from her tears.

I wrenched back, fear icing my insides. “What?” Grabbing her biceps, I demanded, “Why would you say something like that?”

She hung docile and crying in my hold. “Because you were always so damn selfless. You always put me first. You sacrificed everything you could for me. You would’ve done anything I asked, and it wasn’t enough.”

Swiping at her tears, she growled as if furious with herself. “It wasn’t enough that I was your everything. I wanted more. I wanted no other woman to have you. No one ever to own your heart. I was so selfish compared to you, and I made you unhappy in your own home. I pushed and pushed you. I dropped hints I knew you would refuse to acknowledge. I never thought about how I made you feel. All the while, you were replacing my ribbon every year because you loved me so—” She couldn’t finish, her tears coming fresh and fast.

Crushing her to me, I kissed her brow, her hairline, her ear. “Caring for you was the easiest thing I’ve ever done, Della. Raising you was the best thing I’ve ever achieved. I’m so fucking honoured to have had that privilege.”

Pushing her away a little, I bowed my head to stare hard into her eyes. She needed to hear this, and she needed to hear it now.

Before I did what I could never undo.

Before I broke the final filament of my self-control.

“I might have been selfless when it came to you, but I promise you I am no saint. I’m hungry, Della. So fucking hungry, and I need you. But you need to know that the Ren you know—the boy who would kill himself if it meant keeping you safe—that Ren has a flaw. His selflessness comes at a price.”