It wasn’t real.
It wasn’t silver or gold or sapphire.
But it was the best thing I’d ever received.
Ren’s shadow fell over me as I swiped at the tears trickling down my cheeks. “I didn’t mean to make you cry, Della Ribbon.”
“I know. Sorry.” I looked up with a watery smile. “I just…Ren, I—” I shook my head, grasping for words on just how perfect he truly was. How grateful I was that I had his heart. How I’d never take him or his thoughtfulness for granted. Ever. “I just…I love you so much.”
He smiled, tilting his head like an eagle would while pitying a poor mouse for falling in love with him. An eagle who could soar away at any moment and kill that little mouse with just one talon. “I know.”
Taking my hand and the ring, he slipped it onto the finger where engagement rings belong. “This is exactly what it implies. We’ve messed up the usual steps of a relationship. We met young. We loved each other in so many different ways before the one that truly mattered. But now that I have you, this is the only way forward. If it’s too soon, tell me. If you’re having second thoughts, better put me out of my misery now. But if you want me as much as I want you, then you don’t even have to give me an answer because I’ve already made it for you.”
Tugging me into his arms, he kissed me sweet. “Will you marry me, Della Wild?”
I shuddered in his embrace, more tears falling. “I gave you my answer the day I was born, Ren Wild.” Standing on tiptoes, I met his second kiss, deepening it until the street vanished, leaving only silky tongues, hitched breaths, and hands straining to touch secret places. “Yes. A thousand times yes.”
I could finish this chapter on that line. It holds quite a punch, and you all know how much Ren’s random proposal meant to me. But I want to tell you what I got Ren.
Pulling back from his arms, I was the one to open his bag and pull out the baby blue leather band with nine diamante letters threaded onto it—letters I’d chosen from tiny boxes full to the brim with alphabets and shapes, painstakingly deciding the best, simplest message for him to wear. For everyone to see.
He burst out laughing as I opened the clasp and hoped it would fit his large wrist.
It did.
Barely.
Stroking the glittery word-charms, he gave me a look so completely humble and awed I felt as if I’d given him the keys to my forever rather than a simple gimmicky bracelet.
And in a way, I had.
Because forever would never be enough. Not with Ren. Not with my soulmate.
Cupping his wrist, I kissed the springy hairs of his skin right above the bracelet. The charms blinded me with their crystal glitter as I breathed, “Della Wild Loves Ren Wild Forever.”
DW RW4EVA
CHAPTER THIRTY
REN
* * * * * *
2018
WE STAYED IN the forest until the second snowfall reminded us that as much as we’d adopted the wilderness as our home, we had yet to find ways to grow fur coats and hibernate in warm burrows.
The cold ruined everything, making bones ache and lungs burn and bodies bow to nasty viruses.
The sooner we were warm and out of the elements, the better.
We had cash for a rental, but without furniture and other belongings to furnish it, we didn’t bother putting ourselves through the stress of real estate agents and reference checks.
Not to mention, we didn’t want to lock ourselves into a long lease when we had no intention of staying past the last frost.
I suggested finding another government owned hut on a tramping trail, or searching for an uninhabited building like we did with Polcart Farm, but Della took my ideas and one-upped them, suggesting we could have a toasty, furnished place away from main cities and only pay for the months we wanted.
I didn’t believe her, but the day we headed to yet another tiny town to buy thicker jackets, she topped up her phone credit, and showed me an online site that rented holiday homes that usually fetched a premium in summer but were offered at great rates during winter.
Together, we sat in a cosy coffee shop beside a gas fire and ate delicious apple and cinnamon muffins while scrolling through housing options.
We were there for hours, searching, discounting, debating pros and cons of each. Some were too close to the city, others were semi-detached or had the owner living on site. Most were totally impractical for loners like us, but finally, after a second muffin, we narrowed it down to three.
One was a few miles from a local town and decorated in country chic with yellow everything; two was a rambling big place with weathered furniture and bare wooden floors; three was a two-bedroom cottage with whitewashed floors, handmade daisy curtains, and the comfiest looking couches with a fireplace.
For four months’ hire, it would take a big chunk of our cash, but if the two-bedroom cottage lived up to the pictures, it was totally worth it.
Della—ever the resourceful and happier to deal with strangers—called the number and arranged to view the property the next day. We spent the rest of the afternoon heading back into the forest, packing up our belongings, and having a final dinner of fish and rabbit.
The next morning, we left the trees and met with the agent.
The moment we stepped inside, we knew.
This was our winter nest, and we paid cash upfront in lieu of not having credit cards. The round, blue-rinsed hair woman asked for a bigger bond seeing as we didn’t have the necessary paperwork, but after chatting to us and showing us around the quaint, cosy cottage, she handed over the keys and happily gave us instructions on how to work the oven and washing machine.
That night, Della and I made love for the very first time in a bed.
The foreignness of clean cotton and soft springiness of a mattress added a sensual element to our otherwise rough encounters. Our thoughts were on the same wavelength once again, and our touches were softer, our kissers longer, and when I slipped inside her, our connection was deeper than it had ever been.
I adored her to the point of stupidity.
I’d wake in the night with horrors of losing her. I’d stare, completely bewitched at odd times during the day, even if she was doing something as mundane as washing the dishes.
I had no power over myself anymore—she had it all.
And I was glad.
I was glad whenever the fake blue gemstone gleamed on her finger. I was glad whenever the diamante letters on the leather bracelet she gave me caught my eye.
I was glad for all of it.
I was grateful for everything.
I was so damn lucky.
Normally, I despised winter.
But that one…I didn’t mind it so much.
Not with warm beds, roaring fireplaces, and Della.
In fact, I didn’t mind it at all.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
REN
* * * * * *
2019
SPRING ARRIVED WITH a vengeance, thawing the frosts and banishing the snow as quickly as they’d arrived. The weather reports said it would be one of the hottest summers on record, and both Della and I couldn’t wait until the last day of our agreed cottage rental where we could leave for the forests we loved so much.
Living in the cottage had been an experience I wouldn’t forget, and we’d become a little too used to having a comfy house with a pantry full of food and a freezer crammed with everything we could ever need.
The first week after moving in, we’d spent a few days setting up with supplies, so when the snow fell, we wouldn’t have to leave unless we wanted to.
And sometimes, we wanted to, despite the cold.
On the mornings when the sun twinkled on virgin snow and birds sang in white-capped trees, we’d slip into warm clothing and go for a walk. Sometimes, we’d kiss by the frozen river, and others, we’d tease and torment until we practically ran back to the cottage and couldn’t tear our clothes off fast enough.
Those were my favourite days.
A simple existence where we ate when we were hungry, slept when we were tired, and fucked at any time or place we wanted.
Nothing in the cottage had been free from our escapades. Not the smooth bamboo kitchen bench—where I’d hoisted Della onto it, bare assed and panting. Not the claw foot bathtub that was big enough for two—where Della had gotten on her knees and blown me.
Not even the woodshed was free from us screwing like the bunnies Della wanted us to become. I’d ended up with a splinter in my ass, but I didn’t care, seeing as Della was a master at tending to my injuries.
A couple of days before we were due to hand the keys back, we washed all our clothes, sorted through our supplies, ate the rest of the food that we couldn’t take with us, and prepared to hike for the rest of the season.
I felt like a creature crawling from its den after a winter of bunkering down.
I was itching for exercise. I was ready for adventure.
I wanted to be a wanderer again even though I also wanted other things.
Things like being able to officially call Della my wife. Things like officially making our last name Wild and not just a word we’d chosen.
My belly clenched whenever my attention landed on her hand and the gaudy blue ring I’d bought. The promise I’d made and the need to make her mine was a constant desire.
I hadn’t told her, but one night, while she slept beside me, I’d used the final internet credit on her phone to research how to get married. The information bombarding the screen made my brain bleed, and the prices some people were willing to spend made me sick.
The thought of a party with hundreds of people watching a very private moment turned me right off, but even the civil service ceremony with just a single witness wasn’t open to us.
Basically, we couldn’t get married.
Not unless I found a way to get us birth certificates, and we became real people and not just lost kids in the system.
It was a complication that had always been on the back of my mind, but I had no clue how to rectify it. It also didn’t help that the diamante letters of my bracelet had already lost some of its glitter, the tiny gems falling from their metal surroundings.
In the dead of night, deep in my nightmares of losing her, I feared it was a sign that if I didn’t find a way to make her my wife soon, my entire future would be in jeopardy.
I didn’t care the jewellery couldn’t stand up against time, I would wear it until it disintegrated and then somehow resurrect it because it’d become almost a good luck charm, promising me a future where Della would always love me, just like she promised.
Despite my desires to make her mine on paper as well as in my heart, we left behind the cottage where we’d found so much happiness and, for the first time, I was open to the idea of putting down roots.
A place to call our own.
A bed to keep Della warm.
A house we could raise a family in.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
REN
* * * * * *
2019
2019 WAS ONE of my favourite and equally unfavourite years.
Summer was spent skinny-dipping, travelling, fucking, learning, laughing, and living in every precious moment.
It didn’t matter we had no life luxuries. We didn’t care our bathroom was open air, our shower was sometimes shared with fish, or our bedroom was a flimsy thing that was useless against storms—nothing could scare us away from the joy of being alone, entirely self-sufficient, and free to love how we wanted to love.
Our need for each other seemed much more accepted out here, rutting against trees and rocks, driving each other to pinnacles I doubted a house with pretty painted walls could contain.
We had solar lanterns that lit up our tent when we wanted light and solar chargers for phones we didn’t care about. We made do with what the sun wanted to give us and only ate what we foraged and hunted for months on end.
I never asked if Della missed her friends or school. I never regretted spending a lifetime ensuring she had an education, only to yank her away from one the moment I fell in love with her.
We belonged together.
End of story.
And I’d take on the entire universe if it ever tried to take Della away from me.
Then autumn arrived.
Bringing with it more than just its pretty colours of copper and bronze—it heralded my worst nightmare and the reason we left the forest much earlier than we planned.
It all started with a storm.
A particularly terrible storm that ripped our guy-ropes from the ground and scattered our tent pegs in the undergrowth.
Trees cracked as they were uprooted from the earth. Animals screeched as their homes were destroyed. And at some point in the howling, slashing rain, Della crawled into my arms and I hugged her close, keeping her safe from whatever crime we’d committed against Mother Nature for her to hate us so.
It took thirty-six hours for the worst to pass, and everything we owned—including us—was soaked.
The nylon of the tent and its rain sheet couldn’t withstand the torrent and I worried keeping Della from a sturdy house was the right choice.
Eventually, she’d want more than this.
And she’d be fully within her right.
What if she’d gotten hurt?
What if I’d gotten hurt?
What if I wasn’t around to protect her?
As we sorted through our littered and destroyed campsite, nibbling on things we salvaged and drinking fresh rainwater, we did our best to find the tent pegs and tangled guy-ropes, and at some point with our bodies muddy and spirits dull, I made the decision that we needed to be closer to civilisation and not a week’s walk from anywhere.
And thank God I did.
Because a day after we arrived at a campsite, only a few hours’ walk from a town, Della got sick.
Really sick.
Fucking terrify me and make me bargain with the devil sick.
We didn’t often get viruses, and if we did, it was mainly from our quick excursions into towns and touching coins and menus contaminated by other sick people.
But this was different.
For days, she vomited every morning, stayed grey for most of the day, and complained of aching stomach pains that even copious amounts of painkillers couldn’t stop.
I didn’t understand how Della got the stomach flu and I remained untouched. We ate the same things. We were careful about what we cooked. But whatever illness struck, it chose her and chose her hard.
By the end of the fourth day of watching her vomit, and suffering fear and utmost helplessness, I couldn’t handle it anymore. Her assurances that she was getting better were bullshit, and I’d had enough.
I couldn’t listen to her being so ill or watch her gorgeous body become gaunt with malnutrition from not being able to keep anything down.
She had to see a doctor.
Now.
Della was so weak her protests had dwindled to nothing apart from the occasional groan when her tummy hurt and a half-hearted swat when I helped her into a jacket and jeans and tugged her from the camp.
I left behind our belongings, not caring about a single thing.
Nothing mattered.
Only her.
All I took was a smaller rucksack we had for emergencies and stuffed it with our cash, Della’s manuscript, toothbrushes, and a spare set of clothes in case we were delayed for a night or two.
Della followed me slowly, her steps laboured and her skin ghostly. I tried to help her. Tried to offer support and even carry her as we headed down the steep animal tracks to the rye paddocks of some farmer and cut through his land.
But each time I reached out, she pushed me away with a shake of her wobbly head. “I’m fine, Ren. Don’t worry about me.”
But I did worry.
I worried a whole fucking lot and had never been so grateful to se
e a road when we finally travelled four hours and found a painted path and not a muddy track.
My temper was short from fear, and my patience at her unwillingness to let me help depleted. I was furious at her for getting so ill—as if this were her fault—but mainly I was livid at myself for letting her assure me it would pass, when obviously, it was only getting worse.
If anything happened, I’d never forgive either of us.
“Come on, Della.” My voice was clipped as I held out my hand, hoping now she was on the road she’d quicken.
But if anything, the opposite happened. The moment her boots found level concrete, her shoulders slouched, and she seemed to fade before my eyes.
“Fuck.” Marching to her, I scooped her off the road and cradled her close. “I’m never going to forgive you for this.”
She smiled weakly. “For getting ill?”
“For not letting me help.”
Her head thudded against my chest and stayed there as she closed her eyes, no longer even pretending she was strong enough to fight me. “You’re helping now.”
“Yes, and you’re about to pass out on me.”
“Nuh uh.” She yawned as she clutched her lower belly. “I’m still here.”
“You better stay here too, Della Ribbon. Otherwise, I’ll—” I cut myself off, drowning beneath vicious promises and violent vows.
“What? Otherwise what?” Her eyes opened to a dull blue laced with pain.
I coughed hard, averting my mouth until I stopped. “I’ll murder and cheat and steal and commit any crime imaginable if it means I find a cure for you.”
She smiled, her hand cupping my cheek briefly before it tumbled back into her lap. “I love you, Ren.”
“And I love you, even though I despise you right now.”
Laughing softly, she stayed content in my arms as I lengthened my stride and marched toward the larger of the towns we’d been in recently. I didn’t care sweat rolled down my spine beneath my jacket, or my heart beat in terror at the colourless sheen on her face and the sticky temperature of someone unwell.
Ren and Della: Boxed Set (Ribbon Duet Book 3) Page 62