The Boy and His Ribbon (The Ribbon Duet, #1)(108)

But whatever my issues were, I never let Della see.

When we first slept in separate rooms, I’d been obsessed with checking on her—making sure she was safe and no monsters climbed through her bedroom window.

Now, I was glad we had walls between us because my body never obeyed me anymore.

I woke hard.

I struggled not to release the pent-up need in my blood.

And my mind turned to ways of releasing such painful pressure without getting involved with anyone.

Cassie had made me wary, and Della had made me nervous.

I didn’t like getting close to anyone, which meant I buried my needs down deep and accepted I lived in a constant nightmare.

The one saving grace to my torture was no matter Della’s beauty, most days, I only saw her as my Ribbon. I could allow the comforting swell of love when she smiled at me. I could permit the way my body warmed whenever she was close.

I might forever hate myself for kissing her back while asleep, but I was insanely grateful that while awake, I crossed no boundaries in my thoughts. I didn’t covert that which I could not have. I didn’t confuse my dream with reality.

She was my world and home and family.

It didn’t matter her long legs meant when we hugged, her head met my chin. It didn’t matter her strong arms could haul things I deemed too heavy or her quick brain surpassed me in everything.

She was still little Della who I obsessed over, and sometimes, I wondered if that pissed her off.

I’d catch her glaring at me if I indulged her rather than argued. I’d get the sensation she was hurt if I played along rather than acted serious.

But whenever those rare moments occurred, by the time I turned to look closer or cocked my head to hear clearer, the smoke in her gaze was gone, the tightness in her tone vanished.

I supposed we were both keeping secrets; both hiding certain things.

But that was life.

We had our own worlds we juggled during the day. She did things at school I would never know about, and I did things at work I never bothered to tell her.

As long as we returned to each other at night, then I was okay with that.

My family was a single girl who I would happily die for, and lately, that was exactly what she made me want to do.

She might be the sweetest person I knew, but she was also the meanest, and as much as she hated me to call her out on it, I knew why she’d started testing boundaries and pushing into territories I wasn’t comfortable with.

Lust.

I did my best to remember the cocktail of confusing needs and rampant curiosities I’d felt at that age, but it didn’t mean I wanted her to go through it.

I wanted her to stay the forest girl, not a boy-interested teen.

Not that it mattered what I wanted.

We were no longer in sync, and when I got home from work and took her out to a local diner for our birthday dinner, I learned just how much things had drifted.

The meal started nice and normal.

We chatted about generic things, asked questions, listened intently, enjoyed each other’s company…that was until a group of people arrived.

A group she knew and a boy who waved in her direction and smiled.

My gut clenched, and my fist wrapped around my Coke glass.

The four teenagers came toward our table, and Della lit up in a way she hadn’t in so long with me. Her eyes met the boy’s, a familiar message shared between them, and I was no longer the most important person in her world.

Nothing, absolutely nothing, hurt me as much as Della laughing and joking with her friends while she was so careful with me. To see her liveliness return with these strangers ripped out my goddamn heart.

I tried to be happy that she had friends, even though she’d never mentioned them. I did my best not to clutch my bleeding chest when she turned to me with blushing cheeks and bright blue eyes and asked, “Do you mind if I finish my birthday with these guys? We…eh, we have an assignment to finish and probably should do some homework.”

Her lie didn’t hurt me.

It was the fact she couldn’t wait to get away from me.

I glanced at her half-eaten burger and remembered a simpler time when she was five and made my world come alive. I recalled how she’d taken my loveless, painful existence and showed me that not all people wanted to buy and sell you.

She was the reason I wasn’t more mentally damaged and physically scarred than I was.

And because she’d been the one to save me without even realising it, I found myself nodding with a fierceness that belied my agony.

This was life.

This was what had to happen.

“Of course.” I cleared my throat, waving her away. “Go ahead. You should spend your birthday with whoever you want.”

She bounced up, looked as if she’d come to my side of the booth and hug me goodbye, but at the last minute changed her mind, gave me a confusing-tormenting smile, then turned and walked away.

“Be home by ten, Della,” I said softly.

She looked over her shoulder with blonde hair cascading with a single blue ribbon glittering amongst the gold. “I will.” She blew me a kiss before giggling at something the boy said in her ear.

Sweet sixteen.

Just like my original discomfort and desire to skip over such a birthday, my resolution solidified with another memory of my own sweet sixteen.

Cassie had said I deserved something special.