My body feels like ice, but at his words, the coldness thaws a little inside of me. “You’ve never said that before.” I pronounce each word carefully.
He shifts on the bench until he’s facing me. The curve of his mouth is drawn and serious. “I love you, Lydia, as much as someone like me is capable of loving anyone.”
“I love you too.” I reach up and cup his face in my hands. “Which is how I know that you’re capable of loving just like anyone else. I believe that with my whole self,” I say fiercely. “And we will find a way to save you from this. It’s not impossible.”
“Lydia.” He grabs my wrists and pulls my hands away. “I don’t know how much time I have left. It’s . . . getting worse, since we came back here. I might only have one or two more jumps through time in me.”
“Then we’ll go to the nineteen twenties or something.” I try to keep my voice light, but it comes out shaky and unsure. “I’ve always wanted to be a flapper.”
He gives me that half smile again, only this time it just looks sad. “I’m not doing that to you. I’m not taking you away from your family.”
“What family?” I ignore the ache that is trying to tear its way through my chest. “My grandpa is crazy, my parents are like strangers. I don’t have much of a life left in two thousand twelve.”
The pew under us squeaks as he quickly stands up. “No. We’ll save your grandfather and fix the future. Then your life will be normal again, and you can go back home.”
I shake my head. “You’re ignoring that list again. If I go back home, they might come for me even if we do manage to change the future. Our only hope is to evade them. Or maybe that rebellion is real, and the Resister will pop up at any moment and take us away from here.”
He makes a frustrated sound and slides his hand over his chin.
“There’s no way to win, is there?” My voice is small.
“I meant what I said, Lydia.” He reaches for my arm and pulls me off the bench until I’m standing close to him. “I won’t let them take you.”
“I want to believe you Wes, but I don’t know how either of us can fix this.” I lean forward and rest my head against his chest. “In every scenario, I lose someone I love.”
I feel his hand come up and gently cup the back of my neck.
We are both silent. There’s nothing left to say.
By the time we get back, the squat is dark and quiet. There’s a low buzzing light on in LJ’s room, but, for once, I can’t hear the clattering of computer keys. “I think everyone’s asleep already.”
Wes slides his shoes off. “It’s late.”
I fall onto the lumpy couch. “I want to sleep for a million years.”
Wes smiles.
I watch as he settles on the floor next to me. His sports jacket is already lying there from last night, and he begins to fold it into a makeshift pillow. “Wes.” We haven’t turned on any lights, but the room is dimly lit by the streetlamp outside. “Will you . . .” He stops what he’s doing and gives me a curious look. “I was thinking . . .” I trace a pattern in the ratty material of the couch and blurt it out. “Will you stay with me?”
“I’m right here, Lydia.”
“No, I mean, will you sleep . . . here? With me?”
His face goes blank. “You want me to sleep on the couch with you?”
I nod, though I still can’t meet his eyes. “I want to know that we’re both safe. At least for tonight.”
He opens his mouth, then shuts it slowly. “Okay.”
I sit up as he stands and moves the short distance to the couch. He sits down next to me. There’s an awkward pause as we both hesitate, neither of us quite sure what to do. Finally, Wes slides his arm around my waist and lies down on his side, pulling me along with him. His other hand wraps around my stomach. I am resting in the cradle of his arms, and his face is pressed against the top of my head. I can feel every breath he takes.
We’re both still, aware of each other’s bodies in a way we never have been before. I close my eyes at the feeling of being completely surrounded by him. The tension slowly drains out of me, and I sink further into the couch and into Wes. Behind me, Wes relaxes too, and his breathing becomes low and steady.
But even this is not enough to erase the memory of what I learned tonight, and after a minute I whisper into the dark, “If we don’t find a way for you to escape, what will happen to you? Would you let them kill you?”
“No.” He doesn’t finish, but he doesn’t have to; I know exactly what he’ll do—he’ll make the same choice Seventeen did.
I wind my fingers through the hand that’s wrapped around my stomach. I walked away from Wes once and it almost killed me. But even then I had hope that he was alive and somewhere in the world. I can’t leave him again, knowing that he’s going to die soon.
In that moment, I make a choice.
“We’re going to nineteen twenty.” My voice is quiet but resolved.
“We’ve been over this, Lydia.”
“No.” I stay facing away from him and watch the shadows play across the bruised and battered wooden floor. I hear a garbage truck rumble past the window, and a high beeping noise as it backs up near the curb. “It’s
