But I also wanted him to trust that I wouldn’t break, that I wouldn’t leave, that I was strong enough to carry whatever burden he dealt with.
Of course, I didn’t share my worries with anyone, and, as I slipped from the farmhouse where Cassie and I had been calling contractors and arena surface companies for her equine set-up, my shoulders rolled with tiredness.
I hadn’t been sleeping.
I was sick of pretending.
My smiles were fake, and my tears hidden when Ren held me close last night and whispered about making me a legally married woman. His murmurs of togetherness and forevers were full of hypocrisy, and I’d turned my back on him.
I was tired.
So, so tired and I couldn’t pretend anymore.
I just wanted the truth, so my mind could stop conjuring nightmares.
Pushing open the barn doors, I strode into the comforting shadows where splinters of light danced with hay dust and horse hair.
I wanted to go for a ride to clear my head, but as I moved toward the tack room, a voice caught my ears.
A voice I knew better than my own.
“…and when will you know?” Slight pause. “Ah.” Another pause. “Yeah, okay.”
My steps turned to tiptoes as I crept toward the stables and ducked behind some stacked bales. Through the stalky, golden grass, I spotted Ren.
My heart kicked like it always did.
He was so handsome with jeans slung low on narrow hips, a grey and black plaid shirt rucked up to his elbows, and boots that had travelled miles covered in dirt. He had one thick glove on his left hand and the other tucked into his back pocket as he held his phone with his right.
He leaned on the stable door, his head bowed, handsome face grim. “Yeah, I’ve had two so far.” He closed his eyes. “Actually, that might be true. I haven’t been coughing as much lately.”
My hands balled beside me. Who the hell is he talking to?
He listened to whomever was on the phone for a long moment, before kicking the stable door softly as if he wanted to rage but wasn’t prepared to pick up the aftermath of ruin. “I have another treatment in two weeks or so.” He shook his head, his dark, unruly hair tumbling. “No, no side effects.”
I crumpled word by word, unable to tear my eyes off him.
This was worse than my nightmares.
This was real.
“Yeah, I know. A test would be good. I want to know if I’m responding, too.” He raked a hand through his hair. “Okay, sure.”
I pulled back into the shadows as he turned to face me, his eyes landing on the bales I hid behind. His chocolate gaze glittered, but his jaw was tense and strong. “If it works…how long do I have?”
My heart.
God, my heart.
It was no longer beating and pumping inside me.
It was bleeding and gasping by my feet.
I wanted to scoop it up. I wanted to stop it growing cold and discarded and covered in old manure, but I couldn’t because Ren pinched his nose, then looked at the ceiling as if he stared at God and cursed him.
“That’s not enough,” he groaned. “I’m-I’m getting married—”
Whoever he spoke to cut him off, and his gaze fell to the ground. “I know. Yeah, stay positive, I’ll try.” Running a hand over his face, he murmured, “Thank you.” He punched the disconnect button, threw his phone to the floor, and collapsed against the stable door.
With his knees up around his ears, he picked up a piece of hay and twirled it in the most dejected, terribly broken way that my heart crawled from its manure grave and hauled itself back into my chest, desperate to go to him even smeared and dirty and dying.
“Fuck,” Ren whispered. “Fuck.”
*
Staring into my reflection, I let the tears fall.
A girl I didn’t recognise stared back at me. A girl with eyes the colour of grief and hair the pigment of sorrow.
Ren was already in bed, watching something on TV, waiting for me to finish my shower so we could snuggle together and lose our troubles in a movie that would never have the power of forget.
I’d left Ren in the stable.
He didn’t know I’d heard.
He didn’t know I knew…
Knew that he was sick enough to no longer look at the seasons as four adventures but four wheels pushing him closer to the one thing I never thought would be our enemy.
Not until decades from now.
Not until we’d raised children and grown sick of each other and became cranky and grey.
Death.
My fingertips pressed against the glass, tracing the tears on my cheeks in the coolness of the mirror.
I was naked.
Hair drenched from my shower and water still dripping over me.
I was cold.
Nipples pebbled, and skin raised with goosebumps.
I was empty.
Silent on the outside, screaming on the inside.
The mirror lied when it painted a picture of a girl just standing there crying. It should show the truth—the reality that I was hair tugging, skin bleeding, nails scratching, voice yelling, fists flailing, and knees bruised from begging for salvation.
I was chaos not calm.
A sob caught in my throat as I reached into the medicine cabinet and pulled out my nightly ritual.
Face cream applied.
Teeth brushed.
Pill…
The tiny pill sat in my palm—no longer just a drug designed to keep me free from pregnancy but a small, ticking explosive.
Time had once again screwed us.
It had given me to Ren too young.
It had granted only a few wonderful years when we could touch and kiss and love.
And now…it’d taken away our future as cruelly as it had shoved us into one before we were ready.
The pill.
The magical little pill that stopped things from happening.
And time, the demonic power that sped up all things.
Ren had asked how long he had.
When you asked that question, the answer was never good.
We were on borrowed days now, on bartered minutes, and bargained seconds.
My palm tipped sideways, and the pill scattered down the plughole.
Our dreams were slashed…all but one.
We didn’t have the luxury of waiting.
Catching my eye one last time in the mirror, I dressed in the boy shorts and cami I wore to sleep, turned out the light, and went to bed where, for now…my lover still waited for me.
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
REN
2021
“I DON’T THINK I can do this anymore.”
Another week of lying, sneaking, and hiding.
Outwardly, Della still smiled at me, accepted my kisses, and talked to me, but inwardly…she’d gone.
I didn’t know how to explain it.
The empty feeling whenever I touched her. The heartache whenever we kissed—she’d pulled away even while her body was still mine.
I’d hurt her enough to shut down, and that fucking tore me into shreds.
John raised his head, his big paws curling around his coffee cup.
We’d started at sunrise today, thanks to spring arriving overnight with warm air, bright sun, and grass sprouting from the ground at a visible rate.
The farm had woken up from hibernation, demanding to be tended.
“I told you from the start to tell her.” He gnawed on his inner cheek, his wrinkles tightening around his eyes. “She knows something isn’t right.”
“I know.” I sighed heavily.
She’d always been too aware of me. Too smart for her own good.
John smiled sadly. “I know you’re trying to protect her, but you’re only hurting both of you.” His eyes drifted with memories. “I didn’t know Patty was close to leaving me—none of us did. The suddenness was what made it so hard. The fact that we didn’t have time to say goodbye or look for hope or tick off a bucket list. She was here, and then she wasn’t.” He gulped, his knuckles turning white around his coffee mug. “You aren’t going anywhere, Ren. Not for a very long time—”
“You heard what the doctors said, I only have a few—”
“Stop. You didn’t let me finish. I was going to say…you aren’t going anywhere, but we’re realistic to know you have a fight ahead of you, and you need her by your side. We all want to be by your side. Liam, Cassie…”
“I know.” I slugged my coffee in one gulp.
What the hell am I doing?
The distance between me and Della wasn’t worth any price.
I needed to fix this.
I needed to tell her.