Page 64 of Impossible

“So… what do I have to do to come over?” I ask, hoping I don’t sound over-eager.

“I’ll look into the Complex rules,” Leon offers. “But be ready for bad news. You might need to have a heat contract signed already.”

My stomach sinks. My heat. In the thrill of meeting all of Midas Pack, I forgot. The knife hanging over my head by a thread, and I forgot. Like they were shielding me from the risk of it falling. Nothing could be further from the truth.

I force a smile. At least it simplifies getting to spend time with them. “That’s fine then, I’m doing a medical heat,” I say.

Leon’s expression darkens.

“Oh, c’mon, don’t be like that. Why is that everybody’s first reaction?”

“Because you don’t know what you’re saying, little bird.” Leon’s voice is soft. “A medical heat is an awful, awful thing. Finding a pack is better.”

The way he says it though, it doesn’t sound like he means it.

He wheels me back to my dorm in silence. My head is a jumble of questions. I want to know where Midas Pack lives, what it’s like living with Risk and Hollis and Joshua. I want to know where Leon grew up, about his parents, the other adults in his pack, what it was like to be raised in a home like that. I want to know about the bond, how it feels, what’s shared and what’s kept hidden. I want to know if his packmates are aware of the quiet moments we’ve shared.

“Penny for your thoughts?” he asks as we make our way across campus to my dorm.

“I just have so many questions. Every time one gets answered I come up with ten more.”

“Is Ms. O’Brien helping?”

I nod. “I just have too many.”And most of them are about you, I don’t say.

“Well, how about we eat lunch together tomorrow and I can answer some more?”

My stomach twists with nerves.

Before I came to the Complex, my restricting was simple. If I was around people, I ate. If I wasn’t, I didn’t. It was easy enough to keep to one shared meal a day.

Assigning me buddies for every meal has shot my strategy straight to hell. I’ve eaten three meals a day, three days in a row. Without access to a scale, and with the wheelchair preventing my typical daily self-flagellation, I can pretend the weight gain isn’t happening, even as I’m energized and the head rushes disappear. At some point, it’s all going to come crashing down. But that doesn’t have to be tomorrow. Not when I can eat with Leon.

I don’t realize I’m nodding until he says, “Great!”

He waves at the guard as we enter the dorm.

“You get the ‘sick omega’ exception again on coming inside?” I tease, trying not to think about the lunch.

“You seem to be a permanent exception, little bird.”

“Sorry.”

“I did not say that in a bad way. You have been…. A breath of fresh air, let’s say.”

“I don’t feel very fresh,” I sigh. “Would it be weird to ask you to wheel me to the bathroom so I can brush my teeth and wash my face? I can’t really—” I make a face. “I can’t really push myself.”

I roll up a sleeve and show him the bruises patterning the inside of my elbow. I don’t know why I do it. His hand locks around my wrist and holds my arm in place so he can inspect them. He lets out a low whistle. His fingers close completely around my wrist. His hand is so warm.

“You really don’t do anything halfway, do you?” he asks. I can only shrug.

He wheels me into my room and the first thing he notices is the nest. I consider turning the chair and wheeling myself out of the room. Maybe off the nearest cliff.

He smiles, his eyes catching on his jacket from Monday night.

“I’ve been keeping it out to give back to you,” I offer lamely. It’s woven in with blankets and my dirty jeans. The lie is blatant.

“Keep it. That’s a fine little nest.”

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