Unravel Me (Shatter Me, #2)(23)

“Juliette—please—”

The sound of Adam’s voice stops my heart. I force myself to turn around. To face him.

But the moment he meets my eyes his mouth falls closed. His arm is outstretched toward me, trying to stop me from 10 feet away and I want to sob and laugh at the same time, at the terrible hilarity of it all.

He will not touch me.

I will not allow him to touch me.

Never again.

“Ms. Ferrars,” Castle says gently. “I’m sure it’s hard to stomach right now, but I’ve already told you this isn’t permanent. With enough training—”

“When you touch me,” I ask Adam, my voice breaking, “is it an effort for you? Does it exhaust you? Does it drain you to have to constantly be fighting me and what I am?”

Adam tries to answer. He tries to say something but instead he says nothing and his unspoken words are so much worse.

I spin in Castle’s direction. “That’s what you said, isn’t it?” My voice is even shakier now, too close to tears. “That he’s using his Energy to extinguish mine, and that if he ever forgets—if he ever gets c-carried away or t-too vulnerable—that I could hurt him—that I’ve already h-hurt him—”

“Ms. Ferrars, please—”

“Just answer the question!”

“Well yes,” he says, “for now, at least, that’s all we know—”

“Oh, God, I—I can’t—” I’m tripping to reach the door again but my legs are still weak, my head is still spinning, my eyes are blurring and the world is being washed of all its color when I feel familiar arms wrap around my waist, tugging me backward.

“Juliette,” he says, so urgently, “please, we have to talk about this—”

“Let go of me.” My voice is barely a breath. “Adam, please—I can’t—”

“Castle.” Adam cuts me off. “Do you think you can give us some time alone?”

“Oh.” He startles. “Of course,” he says, just a beat too late. “Sure, yes, yes, of course.” He walks to the door. Hesitates. “I will—well, right. Yes. You know where to find me when you’re ready.” He nods at both of us, offers me a strained sort of smile, and leaves the room. The door clicks shut behind him.

Silence pours into the space between us.

“Adam, please,” I finally say, and hate myself for saying it. “Let go of me.”

“No.”

I feel his breath on the back of my neck and it’s killing me to be so close to him. It’s killing me to know that I have to rebuild the walls I’d so carelessly demolished the moment he came back into my life.

“Let’s talk about this,” he says. “Don’t go anywhere. Please. Just talk to me.”

I’m rooted in place.

“Please,” he says again, this time more softly, and my resolve runs out the door without me.

I follow him back to the beds. He sits on one side of the room. I sit on the other.

He stares at me. His eyes are too tired, too strained. He looks like he hasn’t been eating enough, like he hasn’t slept in weeks. He hesitates, licks his lips before pressing them tight, before he speaks. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you. I never meant to upset you.”

And I want to laugh and laugh and laugh until the tears dissolve me.

“I understand why you didn’t tell me,” I whisper. “It makes perfect sense. You wanted to avoid all of this.” I wave a limp hand around the room.

“You’re not mad?” His eyes are so terribly hopeful. He looks like he wants to walk over to me and I have to hold out a hand to stop him.

The smile on my face is literally killing me.

“How could I be mad at you? You were torturing yourself down there just to figure out what was happening to you. You’re torturing yourself right now just trying to find a way to fix this.”

He looks relieved.

Relieved and confused and afraid to be happy all at the same time. “But something’s wrong,” he says. “You’re crying. Why are you crying if you’re not upset?”

I actually laugh this time. Out loud. Laugh and hiccup and want to die, so desperately. “Because I was an idiot for thinking things could be different,” I tell him. “For thinking you were a fluke. For thinking my life could ever be better than it was, that I could ever be better than I was.” I try to speak again but instead clamp a hand over my mouth like I can’t believe what I’m about to say. I force myself to swallow the stone in my throat. I drop my hand. “Adam.” My voice is raw, aching. “This isn’t going to work.”

“What?” He’s frozen in place, his eyes too wide, his chest rising and falling too fast. “What are you talking about?”

“You can’t touch me,” I tell him. “You can’t touch me and I’ve already hurt you—”

“No—Juliette—” Adam is up, he’s cleared the room, he’s on his knees next to me and he reaches for my hands but I have to snatch them back because my gloves were ruined, ruined in the research lab and now my fingers are bare.

Dangerous.

Adam stares at the hands I’ve hidden behind my back like I’ve slapped him across the face. “What are you doing?” he asks, but he’s not looking at me. He’s still staring at my hands. Barely breathing.