The Boy and His Ribbon (The Ribbon Duet, #1)(132)

The front door beckoned, night sky and streets to get lost in before we had a conversation that would probably end us forever.

“Oi!” A hand landed squarely between my shoulder blades, shoving me forward.

Stumbling, I instinctually let go of Della so I didn’t make her trip with me then spun to face who’d dared touch me.

The man.

“David, don’t!” Della called, tripping to get between us.

But it was too late.

All the pain and regret manifested in my fists, and I swung without thinking.

David ducked, his blond head narrowly missing being hit.

He rammed his shoulder into my chest, sending us both slamming to the ground.

“Stop! Both of you!” Della screamed.

We didn’t listen.

I kneed him in the ribs, sending him rolling to the side. He shot to his feet, trying to punch me again.

I punched him first.

I wanted to kill him.

My broken wrist, long healed from being cow-kicked, twinged as I swung hard and true and connected with his jaw.

He reeled backward, right into Della.

Oh, fuck no.

I charged forward, intending to throw him off her, but she pushed David to the side and leaped in front of me.

Slamming on the brakes, I managed to avoid bowling her over. “Move, Della.”

She crossed her arms. “No.”

David stood behind her, his eyes glittering with malice and triumph. He knew he’d won because he’d had what I couldn’t. He’d taken the most precious thing in the world to me, and fucking gloated about it.

I couldn’t help it.

I couldn’t walk away from this without making him bleed. He’d fucking destroyed me; it was the least I could do.

I swung again, aiming over Della’s shoulder at the bastard’s face. Only, she shied the wrong way. David bumped her, sending my fist half into his jaw and half into Della’s temple.

“Fuck!” Catching her as she fell, I choked on worse pain I could’ve imagined. I’d come here wanting to hurt someone, and I’d ended up hurting her.

She moaned, cupping her head with a wince.

David tried to grab her, but I snarled in his face. “Touch her and I’ll kill you.” I wasn’t joking. I didn’t need any other reason to murder him. I wanted to kill him. Needed to.

He heard the raw truth in my tone.

He froze, allowing me to hoist her into my arms like a groom would carry a bride and stumble through the house to the front door.

Della mumbled something under her breath, her fingers tangled in blonde curls as she rubbed where I’d hit her.

“I’ll make it better. I promise,” I groaned as I carried her down the steps and across the garden to my bike.

Standing on the threshold, David didn’t follow us as I gently placed her on the back of the bike, mounted, revved, and sought her arm to latch it tight around my waist.

She still had strength even if I’d dazed her, and the feeling of her hugging me even if she didn’t want to sent my heart smoking with sadness.

“This is my place, Della Ribbon,” David called over the rumble of the engine. “Come by anytime.”

I fed gasoline to the rumble, turning it into a snarl, ripping from the curb and away from all manner of agonies.

The entire time I drove, all I could focus on was David calling Della by my nickname.

She’d allowed a stranger to share something so intimate.

She’d allowed a stranger to take her innocence, and all that was left between us were past mistakes and future heartbreaks.

*

Home.

A word that was supposed to mean contentment, safety, and love.

Now, it meant nothing as Della leapt off the back of my bike the moment we arrived and cleared the stairs to our apartment before I’d even turned off the engine.

I sighed heavily, killing the rumble and locking up.

Coming home to an empty place before had been a nightmare, but heading inside with a pissed off female who had every right to be angry was even worse.

My boots thumped on the steps as I went to her, stalking over the threshold before closing and bolting the door.

I found her sitting on the couch with a bag of frozen peas held against her temple.

Shit.

Raking hands through my hair, I lingered by the coffee table, not knowing how to fix this. “Della, I’m…I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” Her eyes flashed as her head snapped up. “Sorry for ruining my night, sorry for punching my date, or sorry for hitting me?” She threw the peas at my face. “What exactly are you apologising for, Ren?” She laughed coldly. “Maybe you’re apologising for sleeping with half of the female population over the past year? Maybe you’re apologising for walking out night after night and leaving me here alone, wondering where the hell you are and who the hell you’re doing.” She crossed her arms tightly as if warding herself against me. “What do you want to apologise for because I’m confused.”

“I didn’t sleep with them. Well…” I rubbed the back of my neck. “Not all of them.”

“Oh, excuse me for thinking you’d turned into a man whore.” She flung up her hands. “Really, you’re just a regular male, aren’t you? Sleeping around, looking for someone to make you happy.”