Page 44 of Impossible

“Right?” I rumble.

Joshua shakes his head. “We can’t. We’ll hurt her.”

“Already did.”

“No. She’s fine if Leon’s with her. Everything will be ok.”

“No. Not without her.”

He grimaces.

“Come on,” he says. Always gentle, always soft. “Out of those clothes. I’ll get you some new ones.”

I’m naked when he returns. He hands me a t-shirt and boxers. I pull them on.

His bed smells bad. But he won’t come to mine. And I won’t be without him. Not now.

“Come on,” I say. I fall into bed.

He stands above me, lingering.

Everything is always wrong. He can’t let himself feel good.

I don’t care. I need him.

“Come on,” I say, more insistently.

He sighs. He gets in.

I mold to him. We don’t sleep in the pack bed anymore. I can’t remember the last time I touched Leon or Hollis. I need them just as bad.

But only Joshua is here. Only Joshua gets it.

He understands my kind of broken. They like to pretend that they don’t.

13

Inchoate

Indigo

“Risk,”Irepeatdumbly.I only have flashes of him—chestnut waves, burning brown eyes, a fire in them that’s all-consuming. It would have eaten us both if Leon hadn’t arrived. I would have let it.

“Can you walk?” Leon asks me.

I shake my head. I barely hear him. Everything is cedar and cloves and woodsmoke and want.

My entire body is trembling. The dirt is cold, my clothes ruined from brambles and tangling with Risk. My knee pulses with pain—something is wrong, deep inside the joint, and my stomach turns at the sensation.

The scent of smoke lingers, heavy in the air. Leon’s cloves and cedar sets it off perfectly. They match. I thought no scent could be better than Leon’s and then Risk came along, the perfect complement.

I’m trying to force my brain to think in straight lines again. Everything is swimmy with the delicious scents. That’s when I catch it for the first time—bergamot and black tea. Me. It’s complicated and spicy sweet, melting with the woodsmoke and cloves, an earthy bouquet.

I’m suddenly aware of Leon’s proximity, kneeling next to me, his hand resting on my swollen knee.

His eyes are so green, his short blonde hair all tousled from fighting Risk. His cheeks are flushed and his brow is furrowed with concern.

Without thinking, I reach out and put my hand on his cheek. He’s so warm, he flinches when my icy fingers come in contact with his skin.

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