“Oh my god,” he whispered, grabbing her hand and lacing his fingers between hers, squeezinher just shog it tight. “I’m so sorry.” He sighed. “Why didn’t you tell me any of this the night you escaped? I had no idea.” He closed his eyes as if to shut out the memory.
“You were with Camille. I knew she was a good friend of yours, and I figured… you’d finally found someone who made you happy.” Glass smiled and wiped away the tears that were still running down her face. “You deserved it, after everything I put you through.”
Luke reached out to brush a strand of hair behind her ear. “There’s only one person in the universe who can make me happy, and she’s sitting right here with me.” He stared at her, as if drinking her in. “From the moment I saw you again, I knew it wasn’t Camille—she’s a great friend, always will be, but that’s all she is to me now, and I’ve told her that. I love you, Glass. I never stopped loving you. And I never will.”
He leaned forward and brushed his lips against hers, lightly at first, as if giving their mouths a chance to become reacquainted. For a moment it felt like their first kiss all over again. But a moment was all it took.
He pressed against Glass, her lips parting as his mouth sank into hers. She was vaguely aware of his hand tangling in her hair, then slipping down her back, pulling her closer to him as he wrapped his other arm around her waist.
Finally, Glass shifted back and let her lips break away from his. “I love you,” she whispered, needing desperately to say it. I love you I love you I love you throbbed through her body as Luke smiled and pulled her back to him.
CHAPTER 17
Wells
It was nearly noon, and Clarke had been gone for hours. One of the Arcadian girls had seen her head into the woods earlier that morning, and it had taken all of Wells’s self-control to keep from running after her. The thought of her venturing off on her own made his stomach feel like a punching bag for his imagination. But he had to accept that, of all the people in camp, Clarke knew how to take care of herself. He also knew how important it was to find the missing medicine. Just yesterday, they’d dug another grave.
He wandered toward the de facto cemetery that had cropped up on the far side of the clearing. Over the past few days, Wells had arranged for wooden markers to be placed at the head of each mound, something he remembered from old photographs. He’d wanted to carve the names onto the crosses, but he only knew the names of three of the five kids sleeping beneath the soil, and it didn’t seem right to leave the others blank.
He shuddered and turned back to the graves. The concept of burying the dead had initially struck him as repulsive, but there hadn’t seemed to be any alternative. The thought of burning the bodies was even worse. But although the normal practice of releasing corpses into space was certainly tidier, there was something reassuring about gathering the dead together. Even in death, they’d never be alone.
It was also strangely comforting to have a place to visit, to say the things you couldn’t say to people you could see. Someone, possibly a Walden girl he’d seen flitting near the trees, had gathered fallen branches and rested them along the wooden markers. In the evening, the pods still glowed to life, casting a soft light over the cemetery that gave it an almost unearthly beauty. It would have been nice to have somewhere on the ship where it wouldn’t have sNhims feweemed strange to talk to his mother.
Wells glanced up at the darkening sky. He had no idea if the Colony lost contact with the dropship when it crashed, but he hoped that the monitors in the bracelets were still transmitting data about their blood composition and heart rates. They must have collected enough information to prove that Earth was safe, and would surely begin sending groups of citizens down soon. For a moment he dared to let himself hope that his father and Glass would be among them.
“What are you doing over here?”
Wells turned and saw Octavia moving toward him slowly. Her ankle was healing quickly; her limp was starting to look like a saunter.
“I don’t know. Paying my respects, I suppose.” He gestured toward the graves. “But I was just leaving,” he added quickly as he watched her toss her dark hair over her shoulder. “It’s my turn to go for water.”
“I’ll go with you.” Octavia smiled, and Wells looked away uncomfortably. The long lashes that made her look so innocent when she was sleeping in the infirmary tent now lent a feral gleam to her enormous blue eyes.
“Are you sure that’s a good idea with your ankle? It’s a long walk.”
“I’m fine,” she said, her voice full of playful exasperation as she fell into stride next to him. “Though you’re very sweet to be concerned. You know,” she went on, increasing her pace to catch up with Wells, who hadn’t noticed he’d lengthened his step, “it’s ridiculous that everyone hangs on to Graham’s every word. You know so much more than he does.”
Wells grabbed one of the empty jugs next to the supply tent and turned toward the forest. They’d discovered a stream not far from camp, and everyone strong enough to carry a full container took turns going for water. At least, they were supposed to take turns. He hadn’t seen Graham go for days.
Octavia paused as Wells stepped across the tree line. “Are you coming?” he asked, throwing a glance over his shoulder.
She tilted her head back, her eyes widening as she scanned the shadowy outlines of the trees in the fading light. “I’m coming.” Her voice grew quiet as she darted to Wells’s side. “I haven’t been in the woods yet.”
Wells softened. Even he, who’d spent most of his life dreaming about coming to Earth, found it frightening at times—the vastness, the unfamiliar sounds, the sense that anything could be hiding beyond the light of the campfire. And he’d had time to prepare. He could only imagine what it was like for the others, who were snatched from their cells and shoved onto the dropship before they had time to process what was going on, that they were being sent to a foreign planet that had never been more to them than an empty word.
“Careful,” he said, pointing at a tangle of roots hidden by a mass of purple leaves. “The ground gets pretty uneven here.”
Wells took Octavia’s small hand and helped her climb over a fallen tree. It was strange to think that something without a pulse could die, but the soggy, peeling bark was decidedly corpse-like.