Unravel Me (Shatter Me, #2)(94)

I close my eyes, try to savor the moment.

And then his fingers graze my skin and my eyes fly open, my heart racing in my chest.

He’s staring at me like he might’ve done much more than touch my hand if he weren’t holding James against his chest.

“Adam—”

“I’m going to find a way,” he says to me. “I’m going to find a way to make this work. I promise. I just need some time.”

I’m afraid to speak. Afraid of what I might say, what I might do; afraid of the hope ballooning inside of me.

“Good night,” he whispers.

“Good night,” I say.

I’m beginning to think of hope as a dangerous, terrifying thing.





SIXTY-TWO


I’m so tired when I walk into my room that I’m only half conscious as I change into the tank top and pajama pants I sleep in. They were a gift from Sara. It was her recommendation that I change out of my suit while I sleep; she and Sonya think it’s important to give my skin direct contact with fresh air.

I’m about to climb under the covers when I hear a soft knock at my door.

Adam

is my first thought.

But then I open the door. And promptly close it.

I must be dreaming.

“Juliette?”

Oh. God.

“What are you doing here?” I shout-whisper through the closed door.

“I need to speak with you.”

“Right now. You need to speak with me right now.”

“Yes. It’s important,” Warner says. “I heard Kent telling you that those twin girls would be in the medical wing tonight and I figured it would be a good time for us to speak privately.”

“You heard my conversation with Adam?” I begin to panic, worried he might’ve heard too much.

“I have zero interest in your conversation with Kent,” he says, his tone suddenly flat, neutral. “I left just as soon as I heard you’d be alone tonight.”

“Oh.” I exhale. “How did you even get in here without guards stopping you?”

“Maybe you should open the door so I can explain.”

I don’t move.

“Please, love, I’m not going to do anything to hurt you. You should know that by now.”

“I’m giving you five minutes. Then I have to sleep, okay? I’m exhausted.”

“Okay,” he says. “Five minutes.”

I take a deep breath. Crack the door open. Peek at him.

He’s smiling. Looking entirely unapologetic.

I shake my head.

He slips past me and sits down directly on my bed.

I close the door, make my way across the room from him, and sit on Sonya’s bed, suddenly all too aware of what I’m wearing and how incredibly exposed I feel. I cross my arms over the thin cotton clinging to my chest—even though I’m sure he can’t actually see me—and make an effort to ignore the cold chill in the air. I always forget just how much the suit does to regulate my body temperature so far belowground.

Winston was a genius to design it for me.

Winston.

Winston and Brendan.

Oh how I hope they’re okay.

“So … what is it?” I ask Warner. I can’t see a single thing in this darkness; I can hardly make out the form of his silhouette. “You just left earlier, in the tunnel. Even though I asked you to wait.”

A few beats of silence.

“Your bed is so much more comfortable than mine,” he says quietly. “You have a pillow. And an actual blanket?” He laughs. “You’re living like a queen in these quarters. They treat you well.”

“Warner.” I’m feeling nervous now. Anxious. Worried. Shivering a little and not from the cold. “What’s going on? Why are you here?”

Nothing.

Still nothing.

Suddenly.

A tight breath.

“I want you to come with me.”

The world stops spinning.

“When I leave tomorrow,” he says. “I want you to come with me. I never had a chance to finish talking to you earlier and I thought asking you in the morning would be bad timing all around.”

“You want me to come with you.” I’m not sure I’m still breathing.

“Yes.”

“You want me to run away with you.” This can’t possibly be happening.

A pause. “Yes.”

“I can’t believe it.” I’m shaking my head over and over and over again. “You really have lost your mind.”

I can almost hear him smile in the dark. “Where’s your face? I feel like I’m talking to a ghost.”

“I’m right here.”

“Where?”

I stand up. “I’m here.”

“I still can’t see you,” he says, but his voice is suddenly much closer than it was before. “Can you see me?”

“No,” I lie, and I’m trying to ignore the immediate tension, the electricity humming in the air between us.

I take a step back.

I feel his hands on my arms, I feel his skin against my skin and I’m holding my breath. I don’t move an inch. I don’t say a word as his hands drop to my waist, to the thin material making a poor attempt to cover my body. His fingers graze the soft skin of my lower back, right underneath the hem of my shirt and I’m losing count of the number of times my heart skips a beat.