Free Abandon by Elana Johnson Page B

finding comfort in the way she smelled like grass and something sweet. Her touch was tender, familiar.
    “I’m sorry,” I said, apologizing for everything. For not knowing where Irvine was. For leaving her behind in the Badlands with a weak promise that we’d talk when I returned. All the things I’d never said, but should’ve.
    Should’ve, could’ve, would’ve.
    “I know,” she whispered, her lips skating along my ear.
    “Irvine . . .” I said into the recess of her neck.
    She stiffened just the slightest bit. “No word,” she said, and this time she let her mouth linger on my earlobe. She planted tiny kisses down my neck and across my jaw.
    I let her. I shouldn’t have. I knew I shouldn’t.
    Two inches separated her mouth from mine. “Jag,” she breathed.
    “Indy,” I whispered. “I’m sorry.”
    Tears filled her eyes. She knew “I’m sorry” meant I’m in love with Vi, and I’m not going to screw it up by kissing you.
    When I said “I’m sorry,” she heard Please don’t make this harder than it needs to be. I will always love you, but in a different way.
    And my “I’m sorry” also meant I will find Irv.
    She understood all of it. Acceptance replaced the adoration in her dark eyes. Before she could move away, someone coughed.
    *   *   *
    “Vi, wait,” I called, stumbling into the hall. My back seared with pain, and my leg didn’t fare much better. She disappeared around the corner in the direction of her room.
    I hobbled after her, waving away Pace’s protests, the needle he held in his hand, and the pull of bandages up and down my back.
    I turned the corner to find Vi standing in the doorway to her room, her arms folded tightly. “Vi, come on.”
    She moved out of my way so I could step/hop/collapse onto her bed. My breath hurt going in and coming out.
    “I didn’t know you and Indy were still, you know, together ,” she said.
    “We’re not. It was a long time ago.”
    “Jag, don’t lie, okay? Just tell me if you still . . .” She let her words trail off, the pain evident on her face.
    How could I make her understand? “Vi, anyone and anything that happened before I met you feels like it happened in a different lifetime, to another guy.” I longed to draw her close, wrap my arms around her, and feel her cheek pressed against my chest. She stood so stiff, so unyielding. Typical Vi.
    I stood, closed the distance between us, and reached for her anyway. She resisted for a second before allowing me to gather her into an embrace. She clung to me, and I held her, and we breathed together, as if neither of us had the strength to stand alone.
    I know I didn’t.
    She lifted her face toward me, three words lingering on her lips. I memorized the way she looked at me with love.
    I spoke first. “I love you.”
    “I hate it when you say exactly the right thing.” Hermouth lifted in that whimsical way that said, I don’t hate it; I love you too; kiss me, please.
    So I did. It felt exciting, like kissing her for the first time. I wanted to show her how much I loved her. I wanted her to know she was the reason I’d survived the past eight months, the endless hours/days/months in the burial capsule.
    She broke the kiss, gasping. Her eyes widened with terror. “That was real? That—you being buried alive—that was real?”
    I simply stared at her, confused that she knew about the capsule. I hadn’t told her. I hadn’t told anyone.
    So how did Vi know?

Zenn
    12 . I stood at the end of the hall, watching Vi kiss Jag.
    Of course I knew she loved him. I knew they must’ve been kissing all that time they were together in the Badlands, in the desert, while I was out on watch.
    I’d just never had a visual of it until now. Fine, I’d seen them kiss in the transport the night Vi and I had escaped from Freedom, but that was a reunion kiss. An I’m-so-glad-you’re-still-alive kiss.
    This was so much more.
    I turned away, half expecting to throw up and half expecting to