Page 128 of Josephine and Clay

“Liar.”

She narrows her eyes. “You don’t know me well enough to know when I’m lying.”

“I’m learning.”

She looks away first, busying herself with something on the side table that doesn’t need touching. “You should probably eat before you take anything for pain.”

“I’m not taking anything right now.”

Her head snaps back toward me. “Why not?”

“Because I don’t like feeling foggy.”

“You like pain better?”

“No. I like control better.”

“Yeah,” she says quietly. “I get that.”

“Breakfast?” I ask.

She blinks. “What?”

“Let me take you to breakfast.”

“You’re injured.”

“I can still buy eggs.”

She crosses her arms, but it doesn’t have the force it usually does. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Do what?”

“Make this into a whole thing.”

I study her.

That wall’s back up. Not all the way, but enough.

Last night, for a while, it came down. She’d simply loosened her grip on herself for a little while. She let herself lean into me, let herself laugh, let herself want without making it pass a test first.

Now daylight’s here, and she’s trying to put everything back where it belongs.

Including me.

I don’t like that.

Maybe I should.

Would probably make life easier.

But I don’t.

“I’m not making anything,” I say. “I’m asking you to breakfast.”

“That's making something.”

“Only if the eggs are really good.”