Page 87 of Impossible

“Lunch?” she asks.

“I’ll be eating with Ms. Wolfe,” Leon answers for me, eyes never leaving mine. “Thank you, Cecilia.”

She gulps once, nods, does an awkward half-bow, half-curtsy type thing, and then zips out the door, leaving Leon and I alone.

“I’m sorry about yesterday,” I blurt out before he can speak.

He just shakes his head. The motion of the chair is stilted with only his one hand to push it. “You have nothing to apologize for. Really, blue jay. It’s a shitty situation all around. I’m proud of how you’re handling it.”

An embarrassing warmth starts glowing in my stomach.He’s proud of me.I can’t remember the last time anybody was proud of me.

“How was nutrition?” He has to stoop slightly to grip the chair handle, his voice coming from over my head.

“Er, boring?”

“I remember it being a bit of a snooze-fest,” I can hear his smile.

“I didn’t expect there to be any alphas in it at all.”

“Why not?”

“I just—cooking is kind of domestic. A woman’s task.”

“Gender roles are out. Happy, well-fed omegas are in.”

“Ok, ok, enough propaganda.” I hold up my hands in mock-surrender.

“Oh, I didn’t mean—” Leon breaks off, realizing too late. “I’m sorry, Indie. I didn’t mean anything about—”

“It’s fine,” I reach up and pat his hand. He flinches. I twist to look and realize—the knuckle on his middle finger is split, the wound inflamed and red. “What happened?” I ask.

“Nothing.” He turns the hand, putting it on the underside of the handle to hide the split from sight. But with only one hand, he doesn’t have enough control over the chair, and we veer in the opposite direction. Right before we crash, he hooks his bad wrist over my shoulder and yanks me to a stop.

I cling to his arm, heart racing as I see just how close my bad knee came to smashing into the wall.

“I’m so sorry,” Leon murmurs.

I don’t reply, waiting for my heartbeat to settle. I clench his arm to my chest, the pulse point on his wrist directly over my fluttering heart.

“You can let go now, Indie.”

I relinquish his left arm and twist to watch him cradle it with his hand. The split knuckle looks painful.

“What happened?” I ask again. “Your knuckle. Did you get in another fight?”

He shakes his head, gripping the handle of the wheelchair again and setting off. “Nothing.” he repeats.

I don’t push it—I still feel bad after yesterday. He’s keeping my secrets at great cost, the least I can let him do is keep his too.

Alicia is waiting for us in the med hall with a thin paper gown for me. I refuse to let her help me get changed, even though it takes me longer to do it alone. I’m flushed and panting from the exertion of it by the time she comes back with Dr. Gray in tow.

“Hello, Indigo.” He smiles at me. I peer over his shoulder, looking for Leon.

“Where’s L—Trainer Midas?” I ask.

“Oh, did you want him to come in?” Dr. Gray asks.

Too late, I realize that he didn’t come in last time. Not for the exam portion. He was just there for the conversation afterwards. I look down at my knees, sticking out of the paper gown, misshapen and knobby. The left is still slightly more swollen than the right. My legs are hairy; shaving is just too much to manage in the cramped handicap shower stall. My shins are covered in bruises, and my feet are callused and gross. I don’t want Leon to see me like this, but I realize I’m nodding anyway. I don’t want to be alone either. Not with Dr. Gray, even though I know he’s a good and respectful alpha. It just feelswrong.

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