The Wanted

She squirmed uncomfortably. “You look tired. You should go to bed too,” she said, flustered. At least I think that was what she said. I was watching her lips move but not really listening to her words. I couldn’t stand this barrier between us. I didn’t want to be in the eye of her storm, where it was calm, still, infuriatingly quiet. If I couldn’t be out there with the rain stinging my face, the wind sending a blur of leaves and debris dashing in front of my eyes, then I wasn’t really with her.

“Joseph…?” My arms had wrapped around her waist of their own accord. She wiggled out of my grasp and walked down the stairs to the lounge area where Careen sat, sipping tea. I shrugged and went to the room we’d been given. I promised I would do what she wanted.

I flicked on the light by the bed and undressed. It was so warm in the chalet that I only needed the lightweight pajamas I found in a drawer. I slid under the warm quilt and praised the Survivors for their pla

I turned off the light and lay on my side of the bed, leaving wishful room for her. Staring out of the window at the moonlight reflecting off the snow, I hoped the door would creak open, that she’d crawl in beside me, wrap her arms around my shoulders, and the last month would just melt away.

ROSA

“I made you some tea,” Careen said, blowing steam over the top of the mug cupped in both her hands and nodding towards another on the coffee table. Candles waved indecisively in the corners of the room.

“Thanks.” I took the mug and let it heat my fingers.

“So what’s going on with you two?” she blurted, pointing her finger between me and the closed bedroom door before I could even take a sip.

I gulped the scalding water and coughed. The sweetness fuzzed my teeth instantly.

“Seriously, Rosa. From what I can gather, you’ve been apart for only a month and now you’re acting very strange with each other.” That’s right; it was only a month. “Shouldn’t you be in there with him right now, you know…” She waggled her eyebrows, looking more confused than suggestive, though I knew she was going for suggestive.

I snorted. Careen was always very good at cutting right down to the bone truth of things. “A lot has happened in that month.”

“All the more reason for you not to waste time,” she said matter-of-factly. “Who knows what will happen next? You’re here, together, now.”

She was right.

The closed bedroom door seemed to pulse like a steady heartbeat. “He did something. I just don’t know…”

She leaned forward, placed her mug on the table in front of us, and turned to me intensely. “What did he do?” Her voice was a stick of shock, stirring intrigue.

I dipped my head and spoke to my mug. “He was almost unfaithful to me.”

Her laugh ripped through me, pulling my clothes and leaving me vulnerable.

“What the hell does that mean?” she managed through her giggling.

I laughed too, in a false kind of way, because even though it sounded stupid, it didn’t feel stupid. It just hurt.

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 gri

“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.”