Page 85 of Impossible

I crawl over Joshua, accidentally kneeing him in the balls.

I’m on the ground, my arms around Hollis.

He’s unresponsive.

I rub on his neck. His usual pine freshness is burned and ashen. I feel for a moment like I’ve burned him. But no. Alpha. Pack Alpha. He needs to know.

I nuzzle him again. He doesn’t get it—he’s always been dull. Always wanted words more than feelings, despite having more feelings than all of us combined.

I pound my fist on his chest, once, twice, three times.

“Here,” I whisper. “Right here. Now.”

He breathes in sharply. I put my arms around him again, inhaling deeply.

He still doesn’t get it.

I grip his face in my hands. “Alpha,” I grunt. “Hey.” Words are no good. Never enough.

Pressure rises in my chest. It’s hard—we’re all so loud, overwhelming after six weeks of silence. We don’t mean to, but we’re all shouting into the bond. The connection is fraying. Too much noise.

“Hey!” I say, louder. Am I the only one? Too much chaos. Everybody sending, nobody receiving.

I wish she were here.

I draw her scent in my mind. It’s hard. I’m on a soft moss-covered rock. A forest. The trees around me, cedar and pine. It’s about to rain. The clouds are dark and low. Petrichor. A fire, woodsmoke floating to the heavens. A tea kettle, whistling. Birds, chirping. Curls of steam, black tea, cloves, bergamot. Safety. Peace.

It isn’t her, it isn’t us, not quite, but it’s enough. To stop the noise, just for a moment.

“Indie,” Leon rasps. “Indigo.”

Joshua echoes him. “Indie.” Magic. Wonder.

Hollis’s hands rise. They settle on my shoulders. He can’t look at me. Fine. Whatever. I hug him. It’s enough. He doesn’t believe it, not yet. My teeth on his neck are a question, not an answer.

I feel for Joshua and Leon. I don’t ask. I feel. I wait. They’re numb—better than Hollis, but not much. Joshua gets it first.

He’s behind me, arms around me, head on my shoulder. Cool glass skin turned warm.

I know what Leon is doing behind us.

He needs to see it first. To know it’s happening. To believe.

I grunt. Enough knowing.

I feel his smile.

Then he’s with us. Finally.

We all breathe as one. A messy pile of Midas.

But it’s not complete.

She’s not here. Tiny flecks of her in the air, but nother.

My malcontent is in the bond. We all feel it.

“I’m sorry,” Hollis whispers.

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