The Boy and His Ribbon (The Ribbon Duet, #1)(69)

Della was my responsibility, and I ensured her every beck and call was met: applying lotion to her spots, duct taping her hands into my thick baling gloves to stop her from scratching, and feeding her whatever she wanted.

No matter that I was left alone to do whatever Della needed, I still couldn’t get over the desire to growl at anyone who came close or snarl at those who offered help.

I acted like a controlling, dominating bastard but that was what Della’s fragility made me become. I patrolled around her like a wolf would his cub, ready to bite anything that dared damage what was his.

I’d do anything to make her well again; including destroying anyone who got too close.

The Wilsons provided us with healthy soups and drinks—when they braved my temper—and when Della blinked awake one afternoon from yet another nap and her familiar strength started to glow beneath her illness, I found my selfishness at keeping her to myself fading.

I ‘borrowed’ John Wilson’s Land Rover—which was so much easier to drive than a tractor—and headed into town where I used a handful of change found in the middle console to purchase Della’s request for a Filet o’ Fish happy meal.

For so long, we’d never had processed food, and I didn’t particularly like that she’d grown to enjoy it. Ever since she started having lunches and weekend play dates with friends from school, her palate had adapted to not only enjoy fresh produce but also greasy takeaway.

I preferred to keep burgers and fries as birthday treats but Cassie called me old fashioned whenever I’d grumble about Della’s new favourite foods.

John saw me arriving with the cab of his truck reeking of takeout but didn’t say a word as I parked on his driveway and climbed out with the brown paper bag.

We stared at each other.

I tipped my head in gratitude along with the acknowledgment that I’d been a grumpy bastard and taken something I shouldn’t. He nodded back, forgiving me and understanding.

Giving him another nod, I jogged back to Della to give her what she craved.

If junk food was the recipe to getting my favourite person back, then I’d do it.

I’d do anything for her.

Just like I’d stayed here past winter for her.

Just like I’d sacrifice anything of mine so she could have everything.





CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR





DELLA



Present Day





THERE ARE SO many things I remember about Cherry River, but one of my sharpest memories isn’t the itch and horribleness of chicken pox—to be honest, I don’t really want to remember it so I probably shoved that part aside.

What I do remember is what happened afterward.

What was that, you ask?

Well, the boy who nursed me back to health hadn’t factored in his own invincibility against diseases we hadn’t been around or vaccinated against.

Ren gave me everything he had those few weeks while I was ill.

He barely slept. He delivered my cravings. He gave me anything I asked for.

And what did he get in return?

Chicken pox.

I noticed it one night when his usual tossing and turning was eerily catatonic. Ren didn’t sleep well. He never had. I’d been selfish and never minded because if he was awake, it meant I was safe sleeping beside him.

But this time…Ren didn’t move when I whispered his name in the darkness. He didn’t move just like when he’d had the flu-turned-pneumonia which led us to being befriended by the Wilsons in the first place.

That catastrophe had a happy ending.

I didn’t want to tempt fate by seeing what would happen if he got terribly sick again. But those spots on the back of his neck and even one on his cheek above his five o’clock shadow hinted that he was about to endure what I’d gone through.

The next few days, he grew worse.

Somehow, as he grew sicker, I grew stronger, and our roles reversed. I was the one dabbing his flesh with lotion to stop the itch. I was the one dishing out painkillers for his fever, and I was the one carrying soup across the driveway courtesy of Patricia’s awesome cooking skills.

Well, I was the one…until Cassie took over.

She infiltrated our bedroom and sat beside Ren on our bed. She touched his brow and whispered secrets, and all I could do was return to school, hiding the hissing jealousy in my heart and not able to focus at all on what the teacher said.

Cassie had school too, but she always seemed to be in my spot beside Ren when I got dropped off by the bus and there until late when it should just be the two of us.

My frustration steadily grew.

I’d sit in the corner chair with my legs bunched up and my arms wrapped tight around them, glowering at Cassie touching my Ren.

Every time she leaned in and touched his cheek. Every time she laughed at something he mumbled.

Ugh, it was times like that that I hated her all over again.

She’d been so kind and generous to me—letting me ride her favourite pony, teaching me how to canter and jump, and even letting me tag along to a local show when she competed.

I struggled because she was a genuine person and didn’t hang out with me to get to Ren—I would’ve been able to tell; believe me, I was suspicious for a very long time—which made my despising her worse because I felt like a horrible, terrible child, and all I wanted to do was grow up faster so I wouldn’t be so silly and petty.