Copyright 2018 by Colleen Hoover

Not that big of a deal?
I laugh halfheartedly against his chest. “I wish my mother would have felt
that way.”
When Jeremy pulls back, there’s worry in his eyes. But is he worried for me
or because of me? He walks me back into the bedroom, where he motions for me
to sit down on my bed while he begins to hang up the shirts I shoved into my
suitcase.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks.
“Which part, exactly?”
“Why your mother thought it was a big deal.”

---

I don’t want to talk about it. He must see my expression change because he
pauses as he’s reaching for another shirt. He drops it back into the suitcase and
sits on the bed.
“I don’t mean to sound harsh,” he says, pegging me with a firm stare. “But I
have a son. Seeing you this worried about what you’re capable of is starting to
make me worry. Why are you so scared of yourself?”
A small part of me wants to defend myself, but there’s nothing to defend. I
can’t tell him I’m harmless, because I’m not sure that I am. I can’t tell him I’ll
never sleepwalk again, because it just happened twenty minutes ago. The only
thing I could probably say to defend myself is to tell him I’m not nearly as
horrific as his own wife, but I’m not even sure if I believe that.
I’m not horrific yet, and I don’t trust myself enough to say that I never will
be.
I drop my eyes to the bed and swallow, preparing to tell him all about it. My
wrist begins to throb again. When I look down at it, I trace the scar over my
palm. “I didn’t feel what happened to my wrist when it happened,” I say. “I
woke up one morning when I was ten. As soon as I opened my eyes, I felt this
intense pain shoot up from my wrist to my shoulder. And then it was like a
bright light exploded in my head. I screamed because it hurt so bad. My mother
ran into my bedroom, and I remember lying on the bed in the most pain I’d ever
been in, but in that second I realized my door had been unlocked. I knew I had
locked it the night before.”
I look up from my hand, back at Jeremy. “I couldn’t remember what had
happened, but there was blood all over my blanket, my pillow, my mattress,
myself. And dirt on my feet, as if I’d been outside during the night. I couldn’t
even remember ever leaving my room. We had security cameras that monitored
the front of the house and several of the rooms inside it. Before my mother
checked them, she took me to the hospital because the cut on my hand needed
stitches and my wrist needed an X-ray. When we got home later that afternoon,
she pulled up the security footage of our front yard. We sat on the couch and
watched it.”
I reach to the nightstand and grab my water to ease the dryness in my throat.
Before I continue, Jeremy places a hand on my knee, his thumb rubbing back
and forth reassuringly. I stare at it as I finish telling him what happened.
“At three o’clock that morning, the footage showed me walking outside, onto
the front porch. I climbed up on the thin porch railing and stood there. That’s all
I did at first. I just…stood there. For an hour, Jeremy. We watched the entire
hour, waiting, hoping to see if the footage was broken because no one should be
able to remain balanced for that long. It was unnatural, but I never moved. I

---

never spoke any words. And then…I jumped. I must have hurt my wrist in the
fall, but in the footage I showed no reaction. I pushed off the ground with both
hands and then walked up the porch steps. You could see the blood already
coming from my hand and dripping onto the porch, but my expression was dead.
I walked straight back to my room and I fell asleep.”
My eyes return to his. “I have no recollection of that. How can I inflict that
much pain on myself and not be aware of it? How can I stand on a railing for an
entire hour without swaying, not even a little bit? The video frightened me more
than the injury did.”
Again, he hugs me, and I am so grateful that I cling to him tightly. “My
mother sent me away for a two-week psychiatric evaluation after that,” I say into
his chest. “When I returned home, she had moved farther down the hall, into a
spare bedroom where she placed three locks on the inside of her bedroom door.
My own mother was terrified of me.”
Jeremy buries his face in my hair and sighs heavily. “I’m sorry that happened
to you.”
I squeeze my eyes shut.
“And I’m sorry your mother didn’t know how to handle it. That had to have
been hard for you.”
Everything about him is exactly what I needed tonight. His voice is calm and
caring, and his arms are protective, and his presence is comforting. I don’t want
him to let go of me. I don’t want to think about waking up in Verity’s bed. I
don’t want to think about how much I don’t trust my own mind in my sleep, and
even when I’m awake.
“We can talk more tomorrow,” he says, releasing me. “I’ll try to come up
with a plan to make you feel more comfortable. But for now, just try to get some
sleep, okay?”
He squeezes my hands reassuringly and then goes to the door. I feel panicked
by the thought of him leaving me alone in here. Of going back to sleep. “What
do I do about the rest of tonight? Just lock my door?”
Jeremy looks at the alarm clock. It’s ten minutes to five. He stares at the
clock for a moment and then walks back to me. “Lie down,” he says, lifting the
covers. I crawl into the bed and he scoots in behind me.
He wraps his arm around me, tucking my head under his chin. “It’s almost
five, I won’t go back to sleep. But I’ll stay until you do.”
He’s not rubbing my back or soothing me in any way. If anything, the arm
that’s holding me is stiff, like he doesn’t want me to misconstrue our position on
this bed in any way. But even with how uncomfortable he is right now, I
appreciate he’s making an effort to make me comfortable.

---

I try to close my eyes and sleep, but all I see is Verity. All I hear is the sound
of her bed upstairs, moving.
It’s after six when he assumes I’m asleep. His arm moves and his fingers end
up in my hair for a moment. It’s quick, as quick as the kiss he plants on the side
of my head, but his actions linger long after he leaves the bedroom and closes
the door.

---

I never fell back asleep, which is why I’m pouring my second cup of coffee and
it’s just after eight in the morning.
I stand at the sink, staring out the window. It started raining around five
o’clock this morning while I was in my bed with Jeremy, pretending to be
asleep.
April’s car pulls up into the muddy drive as I’m staring out the window. I