I was lying on my back, my head turned to the right side, my eyes closed. I knew before I opened them that Ink would be there, lying on his back, his head turned toward mine. The night sky stretched out above us, stars burning so bright it hurt to look at them.
His hand wove its way through mine.
Neither one of us spoke, but I felt his heartbeat as if it were my own, and for reasons I couldn’t pinpoint, tears began trickling down my face, slowly at first, but then faster.
This isn’t real. I tried not to think the words, but couldn’t hold them back.
I wanted it to be real. I wanted him to be okay, and barring that, I wanted the two of us to stay this way, my hand wrapped in his, his face close enough to mine that I could taste him.
Cedar and cinnamon. Ink.
He wasn’t bleeding.
I wasn’
