around my waist and kisses my forehead. His touch has been so sparse that the generosity of it now chases away all my thoughts. I close my eyes and melt against him, relishing the firmness of his body, the softness of his lips, the strength of his broad palm against my waist. And then he whispers something in my ear so softly the words are barely more than a breath. “Don’t reveal too much.”
I process the cryptic warning like a hiccup.
Luka lets go of my waist and strides to the door.
Clarity comes like a glass of ice water to the face. He means to go without me. He’s going to leave me behind. I take a step toward him, but Cap grabs my arm.
Gabe unlocks the bolt.
The splash of metaphorical water morphs into a wave, or maybe a tsunami. He can’t go out there alone, unprotected. “Luka!”
He turns around, his eyes full of apology. “You’re safer here.”
I attempt to yank my arm free, but Cap’s grip is unnaturally strong. “Luka, don’t leave!” Splitting up is a horrible idea. A terrible, horrible, no good, very bad idea. I have this sudden, sinking dread that he won’t return. That we will never see each other again. “Luka, please!”
He doesn’t look back. He doesn’t seem to hear me at all.
Chapter Twelve
Rarities
C ap hands me off to Gabe. No matter how much I twist and pull, I am not strong enough to escape his unyielding grip on my arm. He drags me behind Cap’s wheelchair and doesn’t let go until we reach the small cafeteria. And even then, he lets go very slowly, as if gauging to see whether or not I will turn around and bolt toward the exit. I’d try if I wasn’t positive he would catch me and drag me back again.
After a subtle nod from Cap, Gabe pivots around and returns from where we came. A sense of hopelessness sinks like an anchor through my chest. Base, it turns out, is no longer base at all, but a prison. One with no sunlight and no Luka. What if he never returns? What if he’s caught by the police or killed by a criminal? What if he finally comes to his senses, and now that I’m safe, decides to return to Thornsdale and live the normal life I’ve been urging him to live? That last option should make me rejoice, but I am a selfish creature. The thought of never seeing him again turns breathing into an impossible task.
I’m so lost in my frantic storm of what-ifs that it takes several beats before I realize the cafeteria has fallen into silence. I am the new girl all over again. Everyone stares at me, sandwiched between Cap and little Rosie. The thick scent of garlic hangs in the air. I haven’t eaten anything since continental breakfast early this morning. I should be past the point of hungry. But I can’t drum up even a hint of appetite.
Cap rolls ahead, nodding for me to follow. When we reach the makeshift counter, he hands me a tray. The person behind the counter serves us each a tong-full of noodles, a ladle of marinara sauce, a slice of garlic bread, and an empty plastic cup. Rosie and I follow Cap as he wheels to a faucet that looks more like an outdoor hose spigot. He fills his cup, then wheels away to sit with Sticks and Non without a single word of comfort or explanation. I eye the door, wondering if now’s the time to make my escape. Maybe I can slip out unnoticed and find a way to get past Gabe.
Rosie fills up my cup, then hers, and snags my attention with a nudge. I follow her to the largest of all the tables, where the boy named Link leans back in his chair, the front two legs tipped off the floor. Claire sits beside him, looking regal with her long straight nose and her white-blonde braid. Rosie takes a seat between a large, swarthy boy with a unibrow and a girl with a nose as large and pointy as a rat’s. I take the open spot beside Link, which has Claire eying me like vermin just sat down at the table. It’s hard to care when I’m so preoccupied with my own turmoil. Since Luka broke me out of the Edward Brooks Facility a week ago, we’ve only
I process the cryptic warning like a hiccup.
Luka lets go of my waist and strides to the door.
Clarity comes like a glass of ice water to the face. He means to go without me. He’s going to leave me behind. I take a step toward him, but Cap grabs my arm.
Gabe unlocks the bolt.
The splash of metaphorical water morphs into a wave, or maybe a tsunami. He can’t go out there alone, unprotected. “Luka!”
He turns around, his eyes full of apology. “You’re safer here.”
I attempt to yank my arm free, but Cap’s grip is unnaturally strong. “Luka, don’t leave!” Splitting up is a horrible idea. A terrible, horrible, no good, very bad idea. I have this sudden, sinking dread that he won’t return. That we will never see each other again. “Luka, please!”
He doesn’t look back. He doesn’t seem to hear me at all.
Chapter Twelve
Rarities
C ap hands me off to Gabe. No matter how much I twist and pull, I am not strong enough to escape his unyielding grip on my arm. He drags me behind Cap’s wheelchair and doesn’t let go until we reach the small cafeteria. And even then, he lets go very slowly, as if gauging to see whether or not I will turn around and bolt toward the exit. I’d try if I wasn’t positive he would catch me and drag me back again.
After a subtle nod from Cap, Gabe pivots around and returns from where we came. A sense of hopelessness sinks like an anchor through my chest. Base, it turns out, is no longer base at all, but a prison. One with no sunlight and no Luka. What if he never returns? What if he’s caught by the police or killed by a criminal? What if he finally comes to his senses, and now that I’m safe, decides to return to Thornsdale and live the normal life I’ve been urging him to live? That last option should make me rejoice, but I am a selfish creature. The thought of never seeing him again turns breathing into an impossible task.
I’m so lost in my frantic storm of what-ifs that it takes several beats before I realize the cafeteria has fallen into silence. I am the new girl all over again. Everyone stares at me, sandwiched between Cap and little Rosie. The thick scent of garlic hangs in the air. I haven’t eaten anything since continental breakfast early this morning. I should be past the point of hungry. But I can’t drum up even a hint of appetite.
Cap rolls ahead, nodding for me to follow. When we reach the makeshift counter, he hands me a tray. The person behind the counter serves us each a tong-full of noodles, a ladle of marinara sauce, a slice of garlic bread, and an empty plastic cup. Rosie and I follow Cap as he wheels to a faucet that looks more like an outdoor hose spigot. He fills his cup, then wheels away to sit with Sticks and Non without a single word of comfort or explanation. I eye the door, wondering if now’s the time to make my escape. Maybe I can slip out unnoticed and find a way to get past Gabe.
Rosie fills up my cup, then hers, and snags my attention with a nudge. I follow her to the largest of all the tables, where the boy named Link leans back in his chair, the front two legs tipped off the floor. Claire sits beside him, looking regal with her long straight nose and her white-blonde braid. Rosie takes a seat between a large, swarthy boy with a unibrow and a girl with a nose as large and pointy as a rat’s. I take the open spot beside Link, which has Claire eying me like vermin just sat down at the table. It’s hard to care when I’m so preoccupied with my own turmoil. Since Luka broke me out of the Edward Brooks Facility a week ago, we’ve only
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