Page 43 of Impossible

“What—what is that smell?”

“Her.”

Joshua sits back on his heels. “Who?”

“I don’t know,” I choke. “I—I hurt her. I’m sorry.”

Salty tears burn my cheeks.

“Hey, hey. Shh. Not now. Stay here, stay with me, please, Risk. Don’t go again.”

I shudder, but nod.

“Can I clean your face?”

I nod.

“What did you do?”

“Tree.”

“You hit your face against a tree?”

“Three times.”

“Why?”

“Trying to get the orders out.”

He sighs. “I thought we were past that.”

I shake my head. “Leon had to—had to do it. To get me off her.”

Joshua hesitates. “Leon is with her, then?”

I nod.

“So, she’s ok. She’ll be ok.”

I will myself to believe it. Her eyes, wide and fearful.No. Can’t think of that.

“I hate being so goddamn fucking fragile,” I murmur as Joshua brings the cotton ball soaked in stinging antiseptic to my forehead. The lovely burn.

“Right there with you,” Joshua smiles. “But at least we’re basket-cases together, huh?”

I can’t make myself smile. My grip on sanity is a little too shaky.

Joshua cleans in silence. Then he’s done, gauze taped on my forehead.

“Hey,” his hand on my cheek, brushing away the tears. He’s so warm. The rain to my smoke. Always putting me out.

“Taste her,” I whisper.

“Risk…”

I lean forward and do it for him, brush my lips against his. Through the antiseptic, the bile and dirt and blood and tears, the faint taste of bergamot, of sweet pea, of black tea on a rainy day.

Joshua sighs when I pull away.

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