“We’re looking for Califia,” I said. I set the soldier’s gun on the pavement and stepped back. “We’re orphans—escapees. We’ve traveled far to get here. We need help.”
The girl studied Caleb’s leg, wrapped with the bloodied piece of fabric. She scanned his thick brown dreadlocks, the ripped T-shirt, and the pants that had been cut away around the wound. “You’re together?” she asked, glancing from him to me, then back.
Behind her, an older woman appeared. “He can’t come in,” she interrupted, shaking her head. She had darker skin and thick black hair that bloomed in a dome around her head. She kept one hand on the knife tucked into her belt.
“What do you mean?” I asked. But Caleb was already stepping back, lifting his arm from my shoulder.
The blond girl aimed at Caleb. “We don’t let his kind in here.”
“His kind?” I asked, pulling Caleb toward me. “But he’s injured. He can’t go back out there. Please.”
The girl’s face was impassive. “It’s just not allowed. I’m sorry.” She kept her crossbow aimed, watching us down the end of the arrow.
I held his shirt, but his hand covered mine, unfurling my fingers until there was nothing left in my grasp. “Califia has always been only women,” he said, starting backward. “You go. You have to go. I’ll be fine.”
“You won’t be fine!” I yelled, the tears hot in my eyes. “You need to come in. Please,” I begged again, looking at his bloody leg, the bandage covered in dirt. The girl with the bow just shook her head.
“I knew this was how it would be,” Caleb said. “Please, Eve, just go inside.”
I realized then we’d never discussed what would happen when we arrived at Califia. Each time I’d spoken he’d nodded, given me a half smile, his eyes out of focus. He was taking me here, but he was never going to stay. It was only a destination off in the distance for us, never a life to be lived.
“You’ll be safe there.” He moved backward with renewed strength, holding onto the tree branches as he started down the hill. The space between us grew, his steps steady as he broke us apart.
I ran after him and threw my arms around his chest, digging my heels into the ground, pulling him back. “We can live somewhere else. I’ll go with you . . .”
Caleb turned around. “Where?” he asked, leaning in close, his brows knitted together. “Where is somewhere else?”
My throat tightened. “Maybe there’s someplace on the Trail. Or we can live in the wild,” I tried. “Or the dugout—we can go back to the dugout. I’ll be careful.”
Caleb shook his head, stroking my tangled hair. “You can’t go back to the dugout. The troops are after you, Eve. They found us at the foot of the mountains and they’ll find us again.”
He searched my eyes until I nodded, the movement so small it was almost imperceptible. Then he kissed me, touching his lips to my cheekbones, my brows, my forehead.
I took it all in: the way the low light danced on his skin, the faint row of freckles across his cheekbones, the smell of smoke and sweat that was so distinctly him. “You’ll come back?” I managed, the tears washing away the day’s grit. I pressed my lips to his cheek. “Please.”
“I will try,” was all he said. “I’ll always try.”
I opened my mouth to say good-bye, but the words didn’t come out. Caleb gripped my hand and pressed the palm to his lips. He kissed it and then he let go. I squeezed my eyes shut, tears rushing forward.
I couldn’t say it—I couldn’t tell him good-bye. When I opened my eyes, he had made it down the steep incline. His body grew smaller and smaller as he moved across the bridge.
When he was nearly across, he turned back one last time, held his arm high, and waved. I love you, he seemed to say, moving it back and forth until I had seen. I waved back, too.
I love you, I love you, I love you.
Acknowledgments
FIRST, A HUGE THANK-YOU TO MY FRIENDS AT ALLOY Entertainment, whose faith and support has never wavered: the hilarious Josh Bank, for a lunch he didn’t have to have. Sara Shandler, genius trimmer of words, for loving this from page one. To Lanie Davis, for steering me in the right direction. And to my editor, Joelle Hobeika, for all her sharp notes, her meticulous line edits, her humor and enthusiasm. You kept me tethered to the pole of sanity during those first months, when I spent more time talking to imaginary people than real ones.
I’m indebted to Farrin Jacobs and Zareen Jaffery at HarperCollins, Eve’s first champions, for their continued support and editorial guidance. Another huge thank-you to Kate Lee, super agent and confidante, for all her good work.
I’m fortunate to have so many encouraging friends who celebrate my happiness as if it were their own. They deserve much more than the general thank-you I can provide here. A special thanks to the ones who lovingly read this draft when I wasn’t ready to show it to anyone else: C. J. Hauser, Allison Yarrow, and Aaron Kandell. As always, gratitude to my brother, Kevin, and my parents, Tom and Elaine. I love you, I love you, I love you.