Copyright 2018 by Colleen Hoover

am in Verity’s bed.
I’m trembling all over now. I open my eyes, slowly, and turn my head at the
slowest pace possible. When I see the door and then the dresser and then the TV
mounted to the wall, I roll out of the bed, falling to the floor. I scramble to the
wall and slide up it with my back against it. I squeeze my eyes shut. I can hardly
hold myself up I am so hysterical.
My body is shaking so badly, I can hear it when I breathe. Whimpers at first,
but as soon as I open my eyes and see Verity on her bed, I scream.
Then I slap my hand over my mouth.
It’s dark outside. Everyone is asleep. I have to be quiet.
It’s been so long since this has happened. Years, probably. But it’s
happening and I am terrified and I have no idea why I ended up here. Was it
because I was thinking about her?
“Sleepwalking is patternless, Lowen. It has no meaning. It is unrelated to
intention.”
I hear my therapist’s words, but I don’t want to process them. I need to get
out of here. Move, Lowen.
I slide across the wall, keeping as far from that bed as I can while I make my
way to Verity’s bedroom door. I’m flat against the door, tears streaming down
my cheeks as I turn the handle and open it, then flee the bedroom.
Jeremy flings his arms around me, pulling me to a stop.
“Hey,” he says, turning me to face him. He sees the tears on my face, the

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terror in my eyes. He loosens his grip, and as soon as he does, I run. I run down
the hall, down the stairs, and I don’t stop until I slam the bedroom door and I’m
back on my bed.
What the fuck? What the fuck?
I curl up on top of the covers, facing the door. My wrist begins to throb, so I
grip it with my other hand and tuck it against my chest.
The bedroom door opens and then closes behind Jeremy. He’s shirtless, in a
pair of red flannel pajama bottoms. It’s all I see, a blur of red plaid as he rushes
toward me. Then he’s on his knees, his hand on my arm, his eyes searching
mine.
“Lowen, what happened?”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, wiping at my eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
I shake my head and sit up on the bed. I have to explain it to him. He just
caught me in his wife’s bedroom in the middle of the night, and his head is
probably swarming with questions. Questions I don’t really have answers to.
Jeremy takes a seat next to me on the bed, lifting a leg so he can face me. He
puts both his hands on my shoulders and lowers his head, looking at me very
seriously.
“What happened, Low?”
“I don’t know,” I say, rocking back and forth. “Sometimes I walk in my
sleep. I haven’t in a long time, but I took two Xanax earlier and I think maybe…
I don’t know…” I sound just as hysterical as I feel. Jeremy must sense that,
because he pulls me to him, putting pressure around me with his arms, trying to
calm me. He doesn’t ask me anything else for a couple of minutes. He runs a
comforting hand over the back of my head and as good as it feels to have his
support, I feel guilty. Undeserving.
When he pulls back, I can see his questions practically spilling from his
mouth. “What were you doing in Verity’s room?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know. I woke up in there. I was scared and I
screamed and…”
He grabs my hands. Squeezes them. “You’re okay.”
I want to agree with him, but I can’t. How am I supposed to sleep in this
house after that?
I can’t count how many times I’ve woken up in random places. It used to
happen so often, I went through a period where I had three locks on the inside of
the bedroom door. I’m not unfamiliar with waking up in strange rooms, but why,
out of all the rooms in this house, did it have to be Verity’s?
“Is this why you wanted a lock on your door?” he asks. “To stop yourself

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from getting out?”
I nod, but for whatever reason, my response makes him laugh.
“Jesus,” he says. “I thought it was because you were afraid of me.”
I’m glad he finds levity in the moment, because I can’t seem to.
“Hey. Hey,” he says gently, tilting my chin up so that I’ll look at him.
“You’re okay. It’s okay. Sleepwalking is harmless.”
I shake my head in profound disagreement. “No. No, Jeremy. It’s not.” I hold
my hand up to my chest, still clutching my wrist. “I’ve woken up outside before,
I’ve turned on stoves and ovens in my sleep. I even…” I blow out a breath. “I
broke my hand in my sleep and didn’t even feel it until I woke up the next
morning.”
A rush of adrenaline surges through my body as I think about how I can now
add what just happened to the list of disturbing things I’ve done in my sleep.
Although unconscious, I still walked up those stairs and crawled into that bed. If
I’m capable of doing something that disturbing, what else am I capable of?
Did I unlock the door in my sleep or did I forget to lock it? I can’t even
remember.
I push off the mattress and head for the closet. I grab my suitcase and the few
shirts I brought with me that are hanging up. “I should go.”
Jeremy says nothing, so I continue to pack my things. I’m in the bathroom
gathering my toiletries when he appears in the doorway. “You’re leaving?”
I nod. “I woke up in her room, Jeremy. Even after you put a lock on my
door. What if it happens again? What if I scare Crew?” I open the shower door
to grab my razor. “I should have told you all this before I ever stayed the night
here.”
Jeremy takes the razor out of my hand. He places my bag of toiletries back
on the counter. Then he pulls me to him, wrapping a hand around my head as he
tucks me into his chest. “You sleepwalk, Low.” He presses a comforting kiss
into the top of my hair. “You sleepwalk. It’s not that big of a deal.”