The Boy and His Ribbon (The Ribbon Duet, #1)(44)

I didn’t know how to make things right, and it hurt. It hurt so damn much to have the one person I loved withhold the love I’d become so accustomed to.

She was my one constant, and this was unknown, scary territory.

Turning to face her, I dropped to one knee and balanced with the weight of my backpack with my fingers jabbed into the dirt below.

She tucked her chin down, avoiding my eyes, twisting her ribbon with tight jerks.

Blowing out a breath, I wondered how to fix this. Her body language screamed not to touch her, but everything inside me needed to. I needed to bridge this terrible gap and I risked having my hand bitten off by cupping her chin and forcing it to rise.

Her beautiful blue eyes narrowed as she finally looked at me.

I stared into her for a long moment, trying to study her, to understand what I’d done wrong, and how the hell I could make her happy again. “I’m sorry, Della.”

She flinched, ripping her face from my hold and backing away from me. “I want to go back.”

“You know why we can’t.”

“I don’t. We’ve lived through rain and wind. It’s just snow.”

“Snow can kill.”

Her forehead furrowed. “We won’t die.”

“We would. Eventually.” I smiled sadly. “We aren’t equipped like the other creatures. We don’t have furry jackets or warm nests.”

Her bottom lip wobbled. “But I don’t want to leave. I like it there. I like just being us.”

“It will still just be us. It always has been, hasn’t it?”

She paused, digging her dirty sneaker into the earth. “I guess.”

Sensing a slight thaw in her, I rushed, “Nothing will change, Della. It will still just be us—as it’s always been. When spring hits, we can go back. We can find another farm perhaps, or a tiny cabin somewhere. It will be fun, you’ll see.”

Her eyes skated to mine. “Fun?”

“A holiday.” I grinned bright.

“Promise it will just be the two of us.”

I drew a cross over my heart. “Promise.”

“Good.” She nodded sharply. “Because I don’t want to share you.”

I chuckled. “You’ll never have to share me.”

“Good,” she said again. “Let’s go then.”

This time, she held out her hand and smiled without any remnants of our fight. My heart beat easier; I breathed deeper; my world was righted once again.

Only thing was, I should never have promised it would just be us.

Because I lied.

Without even knowing it.





CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR





REN



2005




IT TOOK THREE weeks of hiding in rickety sheds, occasional kid tree-houses, and a basement or two before life threw us another curve ball.

I’d searched for something permanent, but this town kept itself too well tended.

The streets were salted and swept of snow every day, the houses painted and cared for. Even on the perimeter of the town, no dilapidated buildings waited to house two homeless kids, and no farm promised space away from people but close enough to ride out the winter by stealing from their supermarkets and larders.

On the third week of searching, I came down with the flu. It was my turn to be shivery and achy, struggling through my daily chores of petty theft and cooking to ensure Della had a full belly to stay warm.

The first couple of days in town, I’d been able to steal her a couple of warmer outfits complete with ski jacket and trousers from a rich family who’d left their kids snowboarding gear on the front porch overnight.

I made do with jeans that got constantly wet and boots that pinched my toes from being too small. I forgot what it was like to be warm and did my best to hide my rapidly fading strength from Della.

She couldn’t suspect I needed a rest. She didn’t need to worry because I carried the worry for both of us. Only thing was, the stuffiness in my nose and cotton wool in my head made my reactions sluggish and instincts falter.

And that was how we got caught.

We’d steadily crept our way toward the boundary of the town and found a farm too far to see the twinkling city lights of its far away neighbours.

It wasn’t abandoned.

Smoke curled from the chimney, recent footsteps melted the snow in the driveway, and the sounds of family laughter trickled through the starless night.

But it was late, and I was done—utterly unable to travel another step with the heavy backpack.

Keeping Della close, I guided her around the back of the cheery looking homestead toward the barn lurking in the darkness. Cracking open the double doors, I coughed heavily and stumbled toward one of the stalls.

Unlike our previous borrowed farm, this one was immaculate with polished brass fixtures, cobweb-free beams, swept cobblestone floor, and freshly-stuffed hay nets currently being munched on by two happy horses, warm and cosy in bright red rugs.

Della’s eyes widened as the creatures snorted at us, ears pricked and swivelling in curiosity. “Can I go pet them?” She drifted toward their stables.

I pinched her shoulder, keeping her by my side. “Maybe later.”

My eyes danced around the space. The tack room smelled of leather and oats, the racks of folded towels and bottles of vitamins and grooming gear sat dust-free and tidy. All this care and neatness meant whoever lived here took pride and time in their home. Our presence wouldn’t go unnoticed, and usually, I’d run.