DELLA

* * * * * *

Present Day

 

 

SO YEAH, I’VE been dreading writing this next part.

I’ve kind of been putting it off if I’m honest. Even knowing I’m never going to show you this assignment, it doesn’t make typing it any easier.

I suppose there is no easy way to say this, so I’ll ask a question instead.

How many times do you think a person can survive a broken heart?

Any ideas?

I would like to know because Ren has successfully broken mine, repaired it, shattered mine, fixed it, crushed mine, and somehow glued it back together again and again.

Then again, I don’t need an answer to that question.

I’m living proof that a heart can be broken a thousand times and still function, still keep you alive—desperately hoping that it won’t happen again, all the while knowing it will.

That cracking pain. That nicking, awful slicing has become horribly familiar to me now. I suppose my predicament could be seen as terribly romantic or horrendously stupid.

You’d think, after almost two decades of agony, I would’ve outgrown it by now…turns out, I’m stupid because I can’t stop it.

Anyway, let’s get on with the story…

The first time I caught him kissing her, I thought my chest would explode, and I’d plop dead right there where I hid in the barn shadows.

He didn’t see me.

But, holy ouch, did I see him.

I saw his lips touch hers, his body tighten and breath catch, and I wanted to pelt toward them, scratch out her eyes, then kick him in the shins. I wanted them both to understand how much they’d wronged me.

But that was the thing…they didn’t do anything wrong.

Ren was more man than boy, and I, as much as I despised it, was still a child.

I was trapped and hurting and ran back to our one bedroom with my heart gasping and insides smarting, curling around my agony with no clue how to stop it.

He got mad at me that night.

When he came to bed after kissing her, I couldn’t bear to look at him. I couldn’t let him see the depth of emptiness and loneliness he’d caused.

Instead, I ignored him.

He stormed off when I refused to uncurl and look at him. It took everything I had to hold in my aching tears, but once he’d vanished into the stables, I let loose the crushing agony and sobbed into my pillow.

I think back now and know my pain wasn’t from seeing him kiss Cassie. It wasn’t the fact I’d woken from my nap, bounced from our bedroom, and couldn’t wait to help him with his chores again. It wasn’t because, even though we lived across the driveway from the Wilsons, we were still separate, still us. And it wasn’t because I knew that a kiss meant more was to come and as bodies grew closer so too do minds and hearts.

I was too young, you see.

I didn’t know what kissing meant.

But the pain he injected into my heart? That was real and I felt betrayed, forgotten, and so terribly lost.

I was jealous that he was close to another when I was supposed to be the only one. I was angry that he turned to another for comfort and didn’t come to me. But most of all, I was in shattered pieces because I wasn’t enough anymore.

Crazy, right?

Such complex emotions for such a silly girl. I’ve read enough on the subject of unrequited love—especially when there are factors like age and experience separating two parties like they do with me and Ren—to understand my first broken heart wasn’t about lust or sex or even understanding that a kiss like that eventually led to more.

All I knew was the one person who meant the world to me—the boy who kissed my cheeks and cuddled me close and kept all the monsters at bay—had betrayed me by liking another.

At least, I’m not unusual in my pain. Apparently, lots of children have issues with their parental figures when they start dating again after a failed marriage or other life situation. But that knowledge didn’t help my fractured little heart, and it didn’t help glue me back together again.

Funny enough…Cassie did that.

Remember how I said I both hated and loved her?

Well, I hated her for stealing Ren, but I loved her because she didn’t just want his company.

She wanted mine, too.

I wish I could fill this assignment with slurs like she was a slut, a bitch, and a conniving little witch.

But…and this pains me to say…she wasn’t.

She was reserved and protective of her family—just like Ren.

She was generous and attentive of her loved ones—just like Ren.

She was patient and kind, and little by little, she wore down my hate until I no longer hissed at her when she came into the barn to find Ren but ran out to meet her just as eager as him.

I can probably skip ahead a little because Cherry River Farm wasn’t just a snippet of my life. It wasn’t our home for just one winter like Ren had promised. It turned out to be my childhood playground until most of my earlier memories of tents and trees were overshadowed by barns, horses, and school.

Ah, school.

I almost forgot.

See, this is how Ren systematically broke and repaired my heart, time after time again. He broke it by kissing Cassie Wilson. He fixed it by sitting me down a few days later, while I still moped and sulked, and instead of scolding me for the fiftieth time about my unusual surly attitude, he held my hands, swept hair off my face, and told me I would be going to school.

Amazing how when you’re a kid, you can switch from pain to elation so fast.

I didn’t see it as bribery or search for an ulterior motive—not that there was one. I just threw my arms around his neck and squeezed as hard as I could. He still loved me. He still cared.

That first day of school, he helped me dress in a baby blue and navy striped uniform. John Wilson drove, and Ren sat in the back seat of the Land Rover with me as I bounced with barely contained energy. Instead of like the last school where my attendance was strictly temporary and based on people not asking questions, this time, it was legitimate.

Ren guided me down massive corridors and spoke proudly of me as we met the principal. And when it came time for Ren to leave me in my new classroom and return to work, I didn’t mind in the slightest that he was going back to a girl called Cassie who I wouldn’t be able to monitor or stalk whenever she spent time with Ren.

All I cared about was learning.

And I threw myself into it with a feverish addiction that comes from never knowing how long something good will last.

Every day, I woke up, tore around to get ready, and leapt on the school bus that stopped to pick me up. Every evening, I would do my homework and hang with Ren, and it was the happiest times of my life.

It wasn’t until I finished an entire semester there and ice melted and snow turned to sun that the enjoyment faded a little thanks to the incessant urge to return to our camping way of life.

Ren had promised when the world thawed, we would be just us again.

But when the birds chirped at night and woodland creatures woke from hibernation and I asked when we would be leaving, Ren told me the second part of his bargain.

He’d agreed to stay working for John Wilson in return to sending me to school.

I’m embarrassed to say, I screamed at him for that. Here he was sacrificing everything for me, and all I could do was complain that the almost fairy-tale way of life before Cherry River was now forbidden to me for a regular one.

Even though I loved our regular one where he had a job and I had school and together we made friends with Cassie and Liam.

I’m making myself sound like an ungrateful cow, but I have to make you see the topsy-turvy world I lived in to understand how fragile my heart was.

How one moment I was queen of everything good and happy, and the next I was princess of everything bad and painful.

So much happened at that farm.

For me and for Ren.

And along the way, I lost count how many broken hearts I endured.