Page 93 of Wild Flower

And when I dislodge him, I find both Archer and Finn standing beside me.

“I’m in remission,” Archer says softly. “That means there aren’t currently any cancer cells in my body.”

Notcurrently.

But there could be. There were.

“I need—” I gobble down a breath, grabbing onto the car next to me to stay upright. “I need some space to—”

Archer’s shoulders slump, all the boldness and confidence he always carries draining out of him. “That’s fine.” Archer’s face hardens. “Everyone always wants space.” Then he turns and walks away. The sharpness of his movements has an anger and finality to it that makes me cling to the car next to me desperately.

“What the fuck, man?” Finn calls after him. “Are you serious?”

Finn turns to me, but I hold my hand out. “I think it’s best if we all just—” Emotion lodges in my throat. If I say space again, I think something in us will permanently break. “Go back to your show, Finn. You should be proud of it. It’s beautiful. It’s—”

A fantasy I can’t have.

A beautiful blur.

A shimmering echo that’s an illusion. Those photos hold what I thought were some of the most vibrant moments in my life. Moments I felt true joy. Where I was truly alive.

But they were based on lies.

55

ARCHER

Waves crash against the cliff, pummeling themselves against the rocks and smashing. The remaining water from the wave streams down the face of the rock like the haunting traces of hands clawing in the surf with nothing to hold onto. There’s only churning water in the bowl beneath me.

This is the cliff we jumped off of together—the three of us—and we felt the world shift that night.

But if the wind had been brewing like it is tonight, we never would’ve jumped. There’s a calm when this cliff is safe, and there’s a squall when it will take your life. I laugh at myself and the naive idea that I ever felt confident enough to convince anyone to jump into that cauldron below. Becca and Finn were fools to trust me. There are a thousand things in that ocean I can’t control. A thousand ways nature could’ve destroyed everything.

I knew it would end. I just thought I’d get a little more time before Becca found out.

Laughter erupts from my chest. Has this disease taught me nothing? When did I start hoping for time? When did I start thinking I could have more?

Passion burns bright, but it burns short, like every cocktail at Flambé that I light on fire. It’s not meant to last. It’s a momentary con—the illusion of awe, making you think you can dream and wish for it all.

I inch my bare feet closer to the edge of the cliff. Do I have one more thrill left in me? Do I dare to test my luck? Does either matter in the long run?

Raindrops start to fall; hot, wide raindrops smacking against my skin. I pull my hair out of its elastic and let it fly with the wind. There’s so much space in front of me, an ocean of tide with miles for drowning. So much space it feels unbearable.

I did this alone before, and I can do it alone again.

Even that, too, feels like an illusion. The only thing I have control over are my choices. And right now, there’s only one decision: ground or sky?

56

FINN

“Have you seen Archer?” I ask, standing outside Becca’s shop as she and Miranda load her van with flower arrangements for a wedding event.

“What are you doing here?” Becca asks, peering between two giant pink flowers. She’s wearing dark sunglasses in the back of a dark van, which is odd, but I don’t bring it up. She asked for space and I’ve been polite, but Archer’s got me concerned.

“I haven’t seen him since the gallery opening,” I explain, “and he’s not answering my calls. Have you tried to contact him?”

“I’m not talking to either of you right now,” Becca says, disappearing behind the pink blossoms. “We leave in five, Miranda.”

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