I sighed. “He kissed another girl.”
She took a breath and calmed herself, tapping her chin. “And this was when you were captured, when he didn’t know if you were dead or alive, when he was grieving you, apart from Orry too, just, well, completely lost and alone?”
I nodded.
She put her hands on my forearms and squeezed. “I could rip his lips off for you,” she said, her eyes twinkling with mischief.
I grinned, covering my mouth, but it poked out both sides as if it were bigger than the room. “That won’t be necessary but thanks.” I loved his lips.
“Okay, then you need to decide right now if this is something you actually care about. After everything you two have been through, together and apart, you need to decide what you really want and what you’re willing to lose.”
Not him. Not over a kiss.
She just stared into my eyes as I thought about what she said. What did I really care about? It wasn’t him kissing that girl.
And the truth was that I didn’t need Joseph.
I wanted him.
It was a choice I had to make. I wanted love in my life, happiness, laughter, and warmth. Need could be a dirty, greedy little feeling. It was what drove Grant to do horrible things, and it may have been what drove Joseph to do what he did.
But I knew he wanted me and only me.
He was not why I lived. Without him, I would go on. It would be a sourer, hollower existence, but I could endure. Joseph was how I wanted to live.
She cocked her head to one side and smiled at me. “So…?”
“I don’t care,” I whispered.
JOSEPH
Boards creaked as a slit in the door revealed a bar of golden light. She barely made any noise as she padded to the bed. She didn’t get in on her normal side. Instead, she moved around to my side and crouched down. The moonlight streamed over her shoulder, her angles, so sharp and delicate at the same time.
She flicked on the bedside lamp. It lit up her face in golden hues. It took my breath. She stole it and wouldn’t give it back. She could have it.
I wanted to, so badly, but I was scared to touch her, worried it was the last time. My hands stalled, pausing on the edge of the bed. Lying there, I felt bare. Without a word, she turned back the covers and tugged at the hem of my shirt, pulling it up to my neck. I followed her lead. I would do anything she wanted. I took the collar in one hand and pulled it over my head.
Her fingers danced along my scars as she whispered, “I don’t care.” Three words that could heal and harm me.
I was too scared to respond. Scared she could see how broken I was. How much I’d changed and that what was left of me was wanting.
She took my hand, guided it under her shirt, and pressed it to her warm stomach, forcing me to touch her scar. Her warm skin was strong, like everything I wanted. I closed my eyes as I let my fingers explore that new part of her. It was a rope, holding her together. It could bind us too. I fit my hands to either side of her waist and pulled her closer, my head, her head, hanging over each other’s shoulders. She gasped at our closeness.
She murmured into my hair, “After everything we’ve been through, I just don’t want to care about it, Joseph. I won’t. It’s not worth us. It’s not worth losing us.” There was a small pain in her voice. I vowed to scuff away that sound, live through it until it was just a memory.
But I’m lost.
She pulled back, searching my face with her amazing, piercing eyes, and said softly, “You know, you were always so perfect. Too good for me.” I shook my head. If only she understood how wrong she was. “And I loved you for it.” She tucked her unkempt hair behind her ear and the earnestness in her expression jumpstarted my heart. She could see me. All of me. “And now you’re a bit broken, and I’ll love you for that too. And maybe, now that we’re both broken, we can kind of stick each other back together. You know, like glue.” Her face twisted adorably, and I could see her internally kicking herself for saying it like that.
Something I thought was lost rumbled to the surface. “Glue?” I smiled. Then the rumble made its way to my mouth, and I laughed out loud.
That beautiful pinch between her eyebrows appeared, and she threw her hands in the air. “Oh crap, I don’t know! I’m no good at metaphors. All I know is that I love you. I don’t care if you’re broken and stuck back together all misshaped with drips of glue showing through the cracks. Whatever happens, whatever it is, we’ll work it out. We always do.”
She loves me. Nothing I knew or would ever know compared to that realization.
My laugh grew. She had cracked me open, or glued me back together because I was hysterical, and I could feel myself letting a bit of all the bad things I’d been holding onto go. I stopped hesitating and reached for her scowling body, pulling her onto my chest. Her heart beat strong over mine.
I calmed myself enough to say, “No. Glue is good. It’s perfect.” Perfect. We were broken and perfect.
She smiled and thumped my chest lightly with her fist. Her hair fell on either side of me, blocking out the world. All I could see was her dark face, her pointed nose, and proud cheekbones that held up even prouder eyes. She dipped her mouth to mine and our lips touched. It was the beginning. It was a promise. I let the moment roll through me, existing only in this point in time. Not looking forward or backward.
She drew back and cocked her head, a delicious revelation of a smile dancing across her face. “You’re an idiot,” she whispered.
I nodded, trying really hard not to kiss her again, and gave up.
I knew she meant it, but I also knew she loved me for it.
ROSA
He is dented, golden light. I am light, redder than blood. Always, we will come together, strike orange flame, and sink below the clouds with the sun.
ROSA
SIX MONTHS LATER
The Woodlands was a beautiful idea, twisted into something gnarled and rotting. Because a settlement based on the rings of tree trunks should have grown. Each ring marking a passing year, new leaves and branches spreading past the trunk, touching other branches like resting arms.
What happens when you control a tree’s growth? Its roots either become so netted, so wrapped around each other, that it dies… or one finds that tiny crack to push through and breaks free of its containment
The four of us looked up from our breakfast at the timid knock on the door. Rosa-May was the first one up, rushing to the door and swinging it open. Odval stood in the entrance, a shy smile on her face. Her baby was strapped to her chest in a complicated sling.
“Where are the others?” I asked.
“Pelo is watching the other two back at home,” she answered. She had her hands full with the three lost children from the nursery she had adopted. Almost every Survivor had taken in a child. We had a few here until they were found permanent homes. Plenty of hands had gone up to take them.
This was the beautiful mess we lived in. Four free towns. Four under extremely shaky Superior rule. When they showed Grant’s video, it had the opposite effect to what they had hoped. It had enraged the people. Superior Judith Grant was ‘stood’ down, and now only Poltinov and Sekimbo remained.