25
Rook crosses the room in a flash and hurls himself at me, wrapping me in a crushing hug.
“Fuck,” he breathes, cupping the back of my head and burying his face into the curve of my shoulder. “I was so scared.”
He’s shaking, trembling. His hand slides over my hair and down my back, up and down, like he’s checking to make sure I’m really here.
We cling to each other as our knees give out and we sink to the floor in a tangle of limbs.
He takes my face in his hands and kisses away the tears on my cheeks before his lips meet mine.
We kiss and kiss as we try to get closer.
I want to step inside of him. I want to hang on to him forever.
“I thought I’d never see you again,” I whisper. “I thought I’d never . . .” I can barely speak. My chest is so tight that it feels like I’ve been cinched by a thousand rubber bands.
“Did they hurt you?” he asks, fire flashing in his gaze.
“No, not really,” I say. “I was fine. They didn’t touch me, just left me alone. Not nearly as bad as I would have imagined.”
“Good,” he replies. “Or I’d have to kill someone.”
Then he’s kissing me again. I tug on the hem of his shirt, lifting it to slide my hands against his warm stomach and chest. I want his skin against mine. His weight pressing me into a mattress.
“Rook,” I whisper. “Don’t make me wait any longer.”
He groans and pulls me closer, kissing me fiercely.
“Knock, knock,” comes a voice that yanks us both apart.
“Oh!” says another voice. “Sorry!”
I’m dizzy and breathless, but then I realize Domino and Journey are standing in the doorway, and I can’t even be upset about the interruption. I’m on my feet, throwing myself into their arms as we hug and cry.
“We’ve been so worried,” Domino says, clinging to me.
“I know. I’m sorry. So many things happened, and I’m still trying to make sense of it.”
“Sorry to interrupt,” Journey says. “We can go.” She waves her hand in front of her nose. “Kind of smells like you need a shower anyway.”
A sobbing laugh cracks out of me. I missed her habit of saying whatever’s on her mind. “Don’t you dare leave,” I say. “I’m so happy to see you.”
I pull them into the room, and they settle on one of the empty beds, leaning their backs against the wall, their feet dangling over the edge.
“What happened that night?” Domino asks, her forehead furrowed with concern. “Why did Trinity say that about you? And where did you go?”
I share a glance with Rook. They’re my friends, and I hate the idea of lying to them, but the truth could get all of us killed.
I plop into a desk chair, then offer an abbreviated version of events. The story that everyone will see on the surface. A sort of half-truth.
Trinity thought she saw something during our test that day, but she was mistaken. Scared for my life, I ran. Rook took me to the Wastes, where we hid out for a while.
“Why did you come back?” Journey asks.
“Because I couldn’t stay out there,” I say, guilt winding in my stomach as I pad my lies. “It was awful.” I can’t meet Rook’s gaze as I spin tales of how unbearable his home was.
“And I’m innocent,” I say, more falsehoods tripping off my tongue. I’ve kept this secret for so long that lying is as easy as breathing. “I hoped they’d listen to reason, and I missed you and even my parents. I wanted my life back.”
They both nod like they understand what I’m saying. I’m sure they think they get it, but they can’t truly understand everything. I hope they never have to hear the truth.
“What was the trial like?” Domino asks. “What happened? Everyone’s been talking about it. People have been claiming you were wrongly accused for weeks.”
“They’re carrying signs with your face!” Journey says. “You’re famous!”
“We tried to join the protests, but Dean Withers forbade it,” Domino adds, and the idea of my friends marching on my behalf makes my throat ache.
I blow out a long breath. “The trial was surreal. I felt like I was having an out-of-body experience the entire time. They brought in a whole bunch of people to testify. In the end, I guess they decided Trinity thought she saw something she didn’t.”
Domino scoots forward and takes my hand, folding it between hers. Her skin is warm and dry. I’ve missed her so much. “You were very brave,” she says earnestly.
“He’s been a complete mess,” Journey says, pointing to Rook. “Growling at everyone. Doesn’t really help with that whole Solitude rep.”
Rook glares, and Journey smiles in return. “See what I mean?”
I can’t help giggling as his scowl deepens.
Then Journey leans forward and says in a loud whisper, “He’s actually a big softie, right, Poet? Once you get to know him?”
I laugh harder as Rook’s expression clears into surprise.
“You’re absolutely right,” I say, and Journey nods as though she’s proud of herself for figuring it out.
“I am not,” he growls, sending us all into a fit of laughter before he finally cracks a smile and rolls his eyes.
We all chatter for a few minutes while the girls catch us up on everything we missed. “There have been more murders,” Domino says. “More bodies found mangled at the hands of the infected.”
“It’s making everyone really tense,” Journey adds.
I share a worried glance with Rook, wondering how this might affect Sol’s plans.
“What was it like seeing Trinity?” Journey asks, never afraid to pose the tricky questions. “Did you want to punch her smug face?”
Rook rolls his chair closer. “Tell me everything she said.”
“She claimed she always knew something was off with me,” I say, her words hurting all over again. “That I was weird.”
“You are a little weird,” he says softly, picking up a lock of my hair and weaving it between his fingers. “But in the best way possible.”
I offer him a smile as some of the betrayal I’ve been feeling ebbs away.
I never needed Trinity.
“She’d better keep her fucking distance,” he says, his voice dropping.
“She’ll have to get through all of us,” Journey says, puffing her chest up.
“Thanks,” I say, my eyes burning with tears.
“We should go,” Domino says. “Give you two some time to catch up.”
“Make sure you come up for air while you’re making out,” Journey says. “And use protection.”
After another round of hugs, they leave.
I turn to Rook, but he’s already there, embracing me again, pressing me against the door, kissing me desperately.
“Where were we?” he asks, peppering more kisses down the column of my throat and across my collarbone, his hand sliding against my hip and between my thighs.
I sink against him as he presses the heel of his hand into me, gasping as I try to find my breath, which is lost somewhere around my ankles.
“Rook,” I moan as he captures my mouth and slowly pulls on the drawstring of my pants.
“I think you said you needed a shower?” he asks with a smirk.
“Journey said that, not me.”
“She’s very smart. We should listen to her.”
He takes me by the wrist and drags me across the room. My heart, so heavy an hour ago, is now light enough that my feet feel like they barely touch the floor.
We turn on the water and frantically undress each other until we’re bare. I take in the sight of him—his smooth skin and the tiny scars that map the life he’s lived.
He picks me up and carries me under the stream before he soaps up the mesh sponge I keep hanging from the tap, then gently cleans me from head to toe. It’s reverent and intimate, and I’ve never felt closer to anyone in my life.
When we’re finished, he wraps us in a towel and brings us to bed. He’s so warm and solid. He smells like safety and comfort.
Meeting Rook taught me that I’m allowed to ask for those things.
We kiss as we move together in a slow, careful dance. I moan as he explores my body, making my back arch and my toes twitch. Slowly, he shifts his hips, and I cling to him while he places kisses on my throat and chest. My cheeks. My forehead and then my mouth.
The sound of his soft breaths heats me from the inside out while he slowly takes me to the edge. We come together with shuddered moans and fingers digging into flesh. It’s sparkling and breathless, like floating through clouds.
This is nothing like that night with Knox.
I wanted to forget him, and, as I suspected, Rook washes away every past touch as I glow with the knowledge that he loves me and I love him.
No matter what happens, we have each other.
Things are about to change drastically yet again.
I survived the first hurdle, but we still have a job to do.
Now comes the truly hard part.