Page 47 of Juniper Unraveling

A moan vibrates against my skin while he kisses along my jaw, and when it doesn’t seem to be enough for him, he returns to my lips.

We kiss like that until we fall asleep.

Chapter 14

Dani

I stand at the fence, watching for my brother. The entire period, I’ve stood here with my fingers curled into the chain links, waiting for him to toddle through the doors. My mind races with a million thoughts as to where he might be, what they might be doing to him, and I close my eyes, willing myself not to break.

Not here.

There’s only so much surviving a person can do before they give and crumble, but I made a promise.

And I won’t break.

The thick layer of moisture coats my eyes, but dries just as quickly as the unforgiving heat laps it up like a cruel sadist, mocking me.

He’s no longer your concern.

The words of Doctor Falkenrath pierce my thoughts, but don’t bring me any relief. Because he’s wrong. Abel’s been my concern since the day he was born and my mother first let me hold him while she breastfed Sarai.

My sister rarely wanted to be held by anyone aside from my mother, refusing to give up the comfort of her suckling, but Abel would sleep in my arms for hours, awaiting his turn. I’d stare at his face, studying every dimple, and his small baby fingers that he wrapped around my pinky. It was in those quiet moments that I vowed to protect him.

That I’d never leave him.

I close my eyes to flashes of his sleeping body lying curled in my arms. Of my fingertips brushing over his baby-soft skin. The sweet smell of lavender soap that my mother used to bathe him. Nights when he was scared and crawled into bed beside me, I told him about the stars and constellations, and he’d tell me how he wanted to fly to the moon.

The horn sounds the end of supper, and as a tear slips down my cheek, I quickly swipe it away before anyone sees and head back into the cellblock.

When I return to the lab, Doctor Falkenrath sits at one of the tables with samples and test tubes scattered around a large object that I’ve come to know as a microscope. He twists the knob, not bothering to look up as I approach.

“Abel didn’t come out again today.” Saying the words sends a new sting shooting up my sinuses, and my eyes fill with tears once more. I clear my throat and sit in an adjacent chair. “You said you could help him.”

“I believe your brother was on the adoption truck.”

Still, he doesn’t bother to look up from the scope, but the news sends a blossom of hope that he’s still alive, and I straighten in my chair.

“Adopted where?”

“The young ones who are negative for reactivation are sent to the other side of the wall, where they’re adopted into families.”

The sensations that collide inside of me are indescribable, and my body turns cold with shock. “Families?”

“Yes. He’ll be well fed, safe, educated, and in time, he probably won’t even remember this place.”

I look up to the ceiling to stifle the tears that won’t stop, and shift in the seat, clearing my throat.

“Will I … will I ever see him again?”

“Carriers are not permitted on the other side of the wall.”

A harsh swallow fails to push away the lump in my throat, and I drop my gaze to where my hands fidget in my lap. “He’ll be ha-happy, there.”

“He will. As I said, he’s none of your concern now.”

Both a sense of relief and sadness washes over me, and I can’t decide which feeling carries more weight.

Abel is safe and happy, and even if he forgets me, even if he forgets our mother and Sarai, I’m glad. He’ll live. He’ll be cared for. That’s all I want for him. I’ve kept the promise to my mother—staying alive for Abel—and now I can focus on myself.