My lungs were in agony.
My heart no longer rhythmical but failing hour by hour.
Kissing her cheek, I breathed, “I need you to move on, Della. I want you to be happy. I need you to live even when I’m no longer here.”
She shook her head. “No.”
“Yes. Live for Jacob. Live for me.”
“I can’t.”
“You can.” Hugging her close, I promised, “You can. Because this isn’t the end. We will never end because that isn’t what true love is. True love is constant. It has no beginning, middle, or end. Life might end, but love…that’s immortal.”
“I love you so much, Ren.”
“I know.”
“I’ll always be yours.”
I nodded, accepting her vow even when I shouldn’t. “I’ll wait for you, Della. I’ll watch you and Jacob…somehow.”
“Promise me you’ll always be near.”
“I promise.”
She kissed me sweet, a single word on her breath. “Good.”
And I knew what I needed to say in return.
A phrase that meant so much.
Four little letters that held such history and hope.
Tangling my fingers in her hair, I touched my lips to hers.
And all I whispered was, “Fine.”
CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN
DELLA
* * * * * *
2032
REN DIED ONE week after Jacob turned ten.
It was as if he’d been holding on until that special age.
Clinging to life to see his son turn the same age he’d been when he’d saved me.
The symbolism in that tore out my heart, injecting exquisite sorrow that I’d never overcome.
I’d been rescued from a life of murder and hell by a ten-year-old boy who’d fallen in love with me. And I’d been left in the hands of another ten-year-old boy who was just as destroyed as I was now that his father was gone.
The fifth and final incident.
The one I’d hoped so badly wouldn’t come true.
My tears hadn’t stopped since I’d woken in the night, six days ago, and knew.
I knew.
I couldn’t explain it.
After we’d returned from Jacob’s birthday in the forest, neither of us mentioned our goodbyes in the tented dark. We continued as normal, with Ren slowly fading, and his refusals about going to the hospital coming often.
Rick Mackenzie had taken to visiting us, instead of Ren going to him, and the last house call…we’d all known would be the final one.
He’d wanted Ren to be admitted. To be put on Fentanyl and a steady dose of whatever drugs could extend his final moments.
But Ren refused.
His life belonged to the land and sky, and his death wouldn’t be spent in a building with concrete and glass.
I honoured that choice even if I hated watching him dim before me. How his body slowly gave up, piece by piece. How his energy levels diminished, breath by breath.
To start with, I trawled the internet for a last-minute miracle. I studied the use of goji berries and apricot kernels and every supposed super food out there.
But in the end, Ren stole my phone.
He turned off the internet, returning us to a world where it was just us and no one else, and we lived in our memories because that was all that was left.
The Wilsons visited often, all of us tasting what lingered in the air.
Liam and Chip and John shared a drink with Ren while they watched some nonsense on TV. Cassie and Nina curled up against him, saying their own goodbyes. And Jacob and me…we were his constant shadow. Part of him. Part of us. So damn aware that he’d be gone soon, and the house would be so empty without him.
And then six days ago, that terrible night arrived.
Ren coughed, but no more than often.
He had a fever, but not hotter than before.
We cleaned our teeth together, read a bit before turning out the light, and kissed each other goodnight like we did every evening.
A simple, domestic night.
The epitome of intimacy and marriage.
I lay beside him, listening to that god-awful wheeze—the wheeze that I hated for stealing what was mine.
And I kissed him again. And again. Never fully satisfied.
Finally, he drifted off with our hands touching and bodies moulded into one.
I had dreams about boys and backpacks and kisses.
Midnight ticked onward, creeping us into a new tomorrow.
But somewhere between two and three, while the moon seduced the stars, I woke up.
Something prickled my awareness.
Something triggered the trip line of my instincts.
I sat up in bed and looked around.
There was something there.
Something unseen.
My breath turned shaky as something cool rippled over my skin.
And I knew.
Just knew.
Tears flowed before I even turned to Ren.
He lay on his back instead of propped up, but he wasn’t coughing.
He looked more at peace than he had in years—no pain, no torment, no struggle.
Lying down, I pressed against his side, looped my arm around his waist, and hooked my leg over his.
He smiled in his sleep, his nose nuzzling my hair.
I squeezed him hard. So hard.
And then, the rattle and wheeze that had become so familiar hitched and halted.