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For some reason, my ears twitched at the way her voice lowered, and I swore an invitation echoed behind her joke.
Della looked as if she’d happily murder her. “You can’t eat me. Ren won’t let you. He loves me.” She looked up, her eyes wide and wild, her cheeks pink with worry. “You do still love me…right?”
And once again, she successfully cracked open my ribs and ripped out my heart. Cassie was no longer relevant as I dropped to one knee and clutched Della close. With my face buried in her sweet-smelling neck, I murmured, “I will always love you, Della Ribbon. Until the day I die and even past that.”
She threw her arms around me, trembling in a way that hinted she acted brave and brattish, but really, her fear was deep-seated and hurting her. I needed to spend more time with her. She should accompany me while I worked. We were so used to being in each other’s pockets that this new dynamic wasn’t acceptable.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered into my ear. “Can we leave now? I’m ready to go.”
I stroked her back. “We can’t leave. It’s still too cold, and I like you alive and not covered in snow.”
“I could be an ice princess.” She pulled away, rubbing at the quick glisten of tears on her cheek. “I’d keep you warm, you’d see.”
I chuckled, climbing back to my feet and tugging her ponytail. “With your temper, you would keep me warm from fighting with you.”
A smile appeared, barely there and still unsure thanks to Cassie invading our privacy, but at least whatever terror had clutched her was gone.
“Can I say something?” Cassie asked, pushing off from the doorframe and entering our bedroom uninvited.
I arched an eyebrow as she came closer, doing my best to assess her threat while very aware she was my boss’s daughter. “What?”
“Not to you.” She pointed at Della. “To her.”
Della squared her shoulders, her blonde hair rippling with resentment. “I don’t want to talk to you.”
“You sure about that?” Cassie closed the distance then sat on her haunches in front of her. “Do you know what day it is today?”
“The day we can leave?”
“No, not yet, I’m afraid.” Cassie shook her head. “That will be a sad day to say goodbye, not a happy day. For me, anyway.” She flashed me a look, and once again, her tone thickened and eyes shot a message I didn’t understand. The moment was gone as fast as it’d happened as she turned back to Della. “Today is much better than that. Want to know why?”
Despite herself, Della asked, “Why?”
“Because today isn’t a normal work day. Ren doesn’t have chores, and you don’t have to stay in here all day.”
“Why not?” Her eyebrows scrunched together. “It’s not a Sunday. Ren works every day but Sunday.”
“Not today, he doesn’t.”
I shuffled on the spot, fighting two polarizing emotions. One, I couldn’t stop the warmth spreading through my chest at Cassie treating Della so kindly. I still hadn’t made up my mind about her as a person, but the fact she spoke to Della as intelligent and not an idiot layered her with more than just physical appeal. And two, I struggled with the possession in my gut. The snaking, hissing knowledge that with every word she spoke, she cracked Della’s coldness and made her interact.
She was making me share her, and I both loved and loathed it.
“Why not today?” Della wedged the toe of her sneaker into the threadbare carpet. “Tell me.”
Cassie gri
I had no idea what she was so upbeat about, but if it made her this attractive, I would have to avoid it at all costs. Strange heat bubbled in my belly. My lips tingled for something. Those frustrating, hated desires whenever I looked at dirty magazines returned in full force.
“What’s Christmas?” Della cocked her head, her ponytail swaying.
“Oh, my God, did you just ask what Christmas is?” Cassie’s mouth fell open. “How the hell do you not know what Christmas is?”
“Is that like when the TV families have a big meal, open gifts wrapped in bright paper, and then moan about eating too much?” Della nodded importantly. “I forgot. I do know Christmas.”
Cassie rose to her feet, shrugging helplessly, and pi
“Like Della said. We know the principal of it.”
“But you’ve never celebrated it yourself?”
This was one of those questions that asked so much more than a simple query. Her tone said she didn’t believe us. Her face said she pitied us if it was true. Her body language said she’d run to her father and tell him regardless of my answer.
I mulled replies in my head. I couldn’t exactly say that our lifestyle meant we didn’t follow dates, only seasons. I couldn’t reveal the full truth that Della had been too young to remember, and I’d never had one since I was sold.
But then again, I could tell her because John Wilson had insisted on the truth, and I’d already told him we’d escaped from a farm that bought children for labour.
I was so used to lying that the truth felt bitter on my tongue. “You know where we came from. Do you honestly think people who buy kids for work would give them Christmas?”
I hadn’t meant my answer to be a bucket of water on the cheery blaze of her excitement, but Cassie’s face fell, her eyes darkened, and she looked at me deeper, harder, wiser than she had before. “You were telling the truth about that. I didn’t think you were.”
I shrugged.
“Can I see?”
“See what?”
“The brand you said is like a cattle mark.”
Della shot toward me, clamping her hand over my hip. “No. He doesn’t show anyone. Only me.”
Cassie held up her hands. “Okay, fair enough. I get it.” Struggling to find her previous light-hearted happiness, she said, “I came here this morning with two messages from my parents. One, today is a day off, and you’re not to work. And two, if you’d like, we’d be honoured to have you join us for Christmas lunch.”
It was my turn for my mouth to fall open. “You want us to join you?”
“That’s what I just said, isn’t it?” She smiled away the sharpness. “But, yes. Do whatever you need, then come to the house. I want to be the first to introduce you to Christmas.”
She left with a smile at Della, lingering glance at me, and the sense that today would mark yet another change, a new adventure, a first experience…for both of us.
* * * * *
“Ren, can I talk to you for a moment?” John Wilson entered the cosy country lounge with large caramel couches and woven rugs where I sat beside Della on the floor beside a giant pine decorated in garish flickering lights and round coloured balls.
Somehow, Della and I had traded our aversion to company and accepted the invitation to Christmas. We’d eaten things we’d never eaten before like buttery brussel sprouts, juicy cranberry turkey, and pecan spun-sugar pie.
My stomach was no longer flat and hard but bloated with too much food.
It was a luxury I could get used to.
Without thinking, my hand found Della’s head, and my fingers slipped through her long blonde hair. She’d undone her ponytail when the Wilsons had given her a small wicker basket full of ribbons in every colour of the rainbow. She’d compared her blue satin to the purples and pinks and yellows, her face brighter and happier than I’d ever seen.