The first path is the one the normal Elena would follow, the one my head says to follow now—to forget Adam and go through with my plan to use the evidence against Aether.
But the other path is a complete shift from everything I know, the opposite of what I’d normally do, and the thing my heart desperately wants me to do: to trust Adam.
I pick up the origami unicorn and make my choice.
Adam lives near LAX—I saw his address in our file, when we broke into Aether headquarters—on a street of identical one-story houses. The grass hasn’t been mowed in a while, and there’s an older Toyota sitting in the driveway. I check the numbers on the porch again. This is it.
I can turn around now. I can run away, escape down to Mexico or something, and try to save myself. But I can’t shake the feeling there’s something I missed, some clue I can’t put together, and Adam is the key. I don’t know how, but he is. And though every thought, every nerve, every muscle is yelling at me to turn around, I ring the doorbell.
Adam opens the door in a button-down shirt and jeans. His hair is messy, his eyes are tired and his glasses slightly askew, but he’s more handsome than ever. He sucks in a breath at the sight of me. “Elena.”
I don’t know what to say. There’s too much to explain, too many words between us, too many questions and explanations and apologies. I’m torn between wanting to throw myself into his arms and trying to shake the answers out of him. Instead I blurt out, “Trent and Zoe are dead.”
“What? Dead—are you sure?”
“I saw them. They were shot, just like Future-Adam’s files said.”
Before I can say anything else, a brown dog pokes his head around Adam, tongue panting. The dog tries to lurch past Adam to get to me, but Adam pulls him back. This must be the dog Adam told me about.
“Sorry about Max,” Adam says. “Do you want to come in?”
I step into a small living room with striped furniture and a table with a huge stack of untouched mail on it. Max spins in circles, tail wagging, butt wiggling, a big doggy grin on his face. I kneel down and wrap my arms around his neck, burying my face in his warm fur and happy body. It’s exactly what I need right now.
“Are you okay?” Adam asks. “Sorry, that’s a stupid question. Of course you’re not okay. But I mean, you’re not hurt, right?”
“I’m fine.” I reluctantly stand up, and Max bounds off to do laps around the sofa. “But Trent and Zoe are both dead, and someone saw me with Trent’s body, and I tried to warn Chris but he wouldn’t listen, and I only have a few hours left before I’m going to die, but I don’t know what to do, and—”
He stops my rambling by putting his hands on my shoulders. “Elena, it’s okay. Slow down, and we’ll figure it out.”
Footsteps sound down the hall, and we both jump back like we’ve been caught kissing. An older woman in a green robe and fuzzy slippers stands in the doorway. She has a scarf wrapped around her head.
“Adam, is everything okay?” she asks, eyeing me. Not in a suspicious or hostile way, the way some parents might look when confronted with a tatted-up Mexican girl in their living room, but with curiosity. I imagine Adam doesn’t bring many girls home.
“Yeah, Mom. This is Elena…She’s a friend.”
I can’t help feeling like I don’t belong here, but I step forward and offer her my hand. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. O’Neill.”
“Very nice to meet you too, Elena.” She grips my hand and I’m shocked by how bony hers is, how thin her fingers are. She looks older than she probably is, her skin sallow and hanging from her bones. There are bruises along her arm, like she’s been injected or had blood drawn many times. She takes her hand away and adjusts the scarf, and I realize she has no hair.
I flash back to Adam saying his mom was “having a hard time.” Of course. She has cancer. That’s why he develops the cure in the first place, why he brought it back from the future, and why he couldn’t let the others take it.
He did everything to save her life.
His mom gives us a tiny smile, like she knows what we’re up to. “I’m going to get some water and then I’ll leave you two alone.”