Shatter Me Complete Collection (58 page)

I don’t know what to do yet.

But somehow the extra details of my conversation with Warner seem too personal, too embarrassing to share. I don’t want anyone to know, for example, that Warner told me he loves me. I don’t want anyone to know that he has my journal, or that he’s read it. Adam is the only other person who even knows it exists, and he, at least, was kind enough to respect my privacy. He’s the one who saved my journal from the asylum, the one who brought it back to me in the first place. But he said he never read the things I wrote. He said he knew they must’ve been very private thoughts and that he didn’t want to intrude.

Warner, on the other hand, has ransacked my mind.

I feel so much more apprehensive around him now. Just thinking about being near him makes me feel anxious, nervous, so vulnerable. I hate that he knows my secrets. My secret thoughts.

It shouldn’t be him who knows anything about me at all.

It should be
him
. The one sitting right across from me. The one with the dark-blue eyes and the dark-brown hair and the hands that have touched my heart, my body.

And he doesn’t seem okay right now.

Adam’s head is down, his eyebrows drawn, his hands clenched together on the table. He hasn’t touched his food and he hasn’t said a word since I summarized my meeting with Warner. Kenji has been just as quiet. Everyone’s been a bit more solemn since our recent battle; we lost several people from Omega Point.

I take a deep breath and try again.

“So what do you think?” I ask them. “About what he said about Anderson?” I’m careful not to use the word
dad
or
father
anymore, especially around James. I don’t know what, if anything, Adam has said to James about the issue, and it’s not my business to pry. Worse still, Adam hasn’t said a word about it since we got back, and it’s already been 2 days. “Do you think he’s right that Anderson won’t care if he’s been taken hostage?”

James squirms around in his seat, eyes narrowed as he chews the food in his mouth, looking at the group of us like he’s waiting to memorize everything we say.

Adam rubs his forehead. “That,” he finally says, “might actually have some merit.”

Kenji frowns, folds his arms, leans forward. “Yeah. It is kind of weird. We haven’t heard a single thing from their side, and it’s been over forty-eight hours.”

“What does Castle think?” I ask.

Kenji shrugs. “He’s stressed out. Ian and Emory were really messed up when we found them. I don’t think they’re conscious yet, even though Sonya and Sara have been working around the clock to help them. I think he’s worried we won’t get Winston and Brendan back at all.”

“Maybe,” Adam says, “their silence has to do with the fact that you shot Anderson in both his legs. Maybe he’s just recovering.”

I almost choke on the water I was attempting to drink. I chance a look at Kenji to see if he’s going to correct Adam’s assumption, but he doesn’t even flinch. So I say nothing.

Kenji is nodding. Says, “Right. Yeah. I almost forgot about that.” A pause. “Makes sense.”

“You shot him in the legs?” James asks, eyes wide in Kenji’s direction.

Kenji clears his throat but is careful not to look at me. I wonder why he’s protecting me from this. Why he thinks it’s better not to tell the truth about what really happened. “Yup,” he says, and takes a bite of his food.

Adam exhales. Pushes up his shirtsleeves, studies the series of concentric circles inked onto his forearms, military mementos of a past life.

“But why?” James asks Kenji.

“Why what, kid?”

“Why didn’t you kill him? Why just shoot him in the legs? Didn’t you say he’s the worst? The reason why we have all the problems we have now?”

Kenji is quiet for a moment. He’s gripping his spoon, poking at his food. Finally he puts the spoon down. Motions for James to join him on our side of the table. I slide down to make room. “Come here,” he says to James, pulling him tight against the right side of his body. James wraps his arms around Kenji’s waist and Kenji drops his hand on James’ head, mussing his hair.

I had no idea they were so close.

I keep forgetting that the 3 of them are roommates.

“So, okay. You ready for a little lesson?” he says to James.

James nods.

“It’s like this: Castle always teaches us that we can’t just cut off the head, you know?” He hesitates; collects his thoughts. “Like, if we just kill the enemy leader, then what? What would happen?”

“World peace,” James says.

“Wrong. It would be mass chaos.” Kenji shakes his head. Rubs the tip of his nose. “And chaos is a hell of a lot harder to fight.”

“Then how do you win?”

“Right,” Kenji says. “Well that’s the thing. We can only take out the leader of the opposition when we’re ready to take over—only when there’s a new leader ready to take the place of the old one. People need someone to rally around, right? And we’re not ready yet.” He shrugs. “This was supposed to be a fight against Warner—taking
him
out wouldn’t have been an issue. But to take out Anderson would be asking for absolute anarchy, all over the country. And anarchy means there’s a chance someone else—someone even worse, possibly—could take control before we do.”

James says something in response but I don’t hear it.

Adam is staring at me.

He’s staring at me and he’s not pretending not to. He’s not looking away. He’s not saying a word. His gaze moves from my eyes to my mouth, focusing on my lips for a moment too long. Finally he turns away, just for a brief second before his eyes are fixed on mine again. Deeper. Hungrier.

My heart is starting to hurt.

I watch the hard movement in his throat. The rise and fall of his chest. The tense line of his jaw and the way he’s sitting so perfectly still. He doesn’t say anything, anything at all.

I want so desperately to touch him.

“Smartass.” Kenji is chuckling, shaking his head as he reacts to something James just said. “You know that’s not what I meant. Anyway,” he sighs, “we’re not ready to deal with that kind of insanity just yet. We take out Anderson when we’re ready to take over. That’s the only way to do this right.”

Adam stands up abruptly. He pushes away his untouched bowl of food and clears his throat. Looks at Kenji. “So that’s why you didn’t kill him when he was right in front of you.”

Kenji scratches the back of his head, uncomfortable. “Listen man, if I had any idea—”

“Forget it.” Adam cuts him off. “You did me a favor.”

“What do you mean?” Kenji asks. “Hey man—where’re you going—”

But Adam is already walking away.

I go after him.

I’m following Adam down an empty corridor as he exits the dining hall even though I know I shouldn’t. I know I shouldn’t be talking to him like this, shouldn’t be encouraging the feelings I have for him but I’m worried. I can’t help it. He’s disappearing into himself, withdrawing into a world I can’t penetrate and I can’t even blame him for it. I can only imagine what he must be experiencing right now. These recent revelations would be enough to drive a weaker person absolutely insane. And even though we’ve managed to work together lately, it’s always been during such high-stress situations that there’s hardly been any time for us to dwell on our personal issues.

And I need to know that he’s all right.

I can’t just stop caring about him.

“Adam?”

He stops at the sound of my voice. His spine goes rigid with surprise. He turns around and I see his expression shift from hope to confusion to worry in a matter of seconds. “What’s wrong?” he asks. “Is everything okay?”

Suddenly he’s in front of me, all 6 feet of him, and I’m drowning in memories and feelings I’ve made no effort to forget. I’m trying to remember why I wanted to talk to him. Why I ever told him we couldn’t be together. Why I would ever keep myself from a chance at even 5 seconds in his arms and he’s saying my name, saying, “Juliette—what’s wrong? Did something happen?”

I want so desperately to say yes, yes, horrible things have happened, and I’m sick, I’m so sick and tired and I really just want to collapse in your arms and forget the rest of the world. Instead I manage to look up, manage to meet his eyes. They’re such a dark, haunting shade of blue. “I’m worried about you,” I tell him.

And his eyes are immediately different, uncomfortable, closed off. “You’re worried about me.” He blows out a hard breath. Runs a hand through his hair.

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay—”

He’s shaking his head in disbelief. “What are you doing?” he says. “Are you mocking me?”

“What?”

He’s pounding a closed fist against his lips. Looking up. Looking like he’s not sure what to say and then he speaks, his voice strained and hurt and confused and he says, “You broke up with me. You gave up on us—on our entire future together. You basically reached in and ripped my heart out and now you’re asking me if I’m okay? How the hell am I supposed to be okay, Juliette? What kind of a question is that?”

I’m swaying in place.

“I didn’t mean—” I swallow, hard. “I-I was t-talking about your—your dad—I thought maybe—oh, God, I’m sorry—you’re right, I’m so stupid—I shouldn’t have come, I sh-shouldn’t—”

“Juliette,” he says, so desperately, catching me around the waist as I back away. His eyes are shut tight. “Please,” he says, “tell me what I’m supposed to do. How am I supposed to feel? It’s one shitty thing right after another and I’m trying to be okay—God, I’m trying so hard but it’s really freaking
difficult
and I miss”—his voice catches—“I miss you,” he says. “I miss you so much it’s killing me.”

My fingers are clenched in his shirt.

My heart is hammering in the silence.

I see the difficulty he has in meeting my eyes when he whispers, “Do you still love me?”

And I’m straining every muscle in my body just to keep myself from reaching forward to touch him. “Adam—of course I still love you—”

“You know,” he says, his voice rough with emotion, “I’ve never had anything like this before. I can barely remember my mom, and other than that it was just me and James and my piece-of-shit dad. And James has always loved me in his own way, but you—with
you
—” He falters. Looks down. “How am I supposed to go back?” he asks, so quietly. “How am I supposed to forget what it was like to be with you? To be loved by you?”

I don’t even realize I’m crying until it’s too late.

“You say you love me,” he says. “And I know I love you.” He looks up, meets my eyes. “So why the hell can’t we be together?”

And I don’t know how to say anything but “I’m s-sorry, I’m so sorry, you have no idea how sorry I am—”

“Why can’t we just try?” He’s gripping my shoulders now, his words urgent, anguished; our faces too dangerously close. “I’m willing to take whatever I can get, I swear, I just want to know I have you in my life—”

“We can’t,” I tell him. “It won’t be enough, Adam, and you know it. One day we’ll take a stupid risk or take a chance we shouldn’t. One day we’ll think it’ll be okay and it won’t. And it won’t end well.”

“But look at us now,” he says. “We can make this work—I can be close to you without kissing you—I just need to spend a few more months training—”

“Your training might never be enough.” I cut him off, knowing I need to tell him everything now. Knowing he has a right to know the same things I do. “Because the more I train, the more I learn exactly how dangerous I am. And you c-can’t be near me. It’s not just my skin anymore. I could hurt you just by holding your hand.”

“What?” He blinks several times. “What are you talking about?”

I take a deep breath. Press my palm flat against the side of the tunnel before digging my fingers in and dragging them right through the stone. I punch my fist into the wall and grab a handful of rough rock, crush it in my hand, allow it to sift as sand through my fingers to the floor.

Adam is staring at me. Astonished.

“I’m the one who shot your father,” I tell him. “I don’t know why Kenji was covering for me. I don’t know why he didn’t tell you the truth. But I was so blinded by this—this all-consuming
rage
—I just wanted to kill him. And I was torturing him,” I whisper. “I shot him in his legs because I was taking my time. Because I wanted to enjoy that last moment. That last bullet I was about to put through his heart. And I was so close. I was so close, and Kenji,” I tell him, “Kenji had to pull me away. Because he saw that I’d gone insane.

“I’m out of control.” My voice is a rasp, a broken plea. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me or what’s happening to me and I don’t even know what I’m capable of yet. I don’t know how much worse this is going to get. Every day I learn something new about myself and every day it terrifies me. I’ve done terrible things to people,” I whisper. I swallow back the sob building in my throat. “And I’m not okay,” I tell him. “I’m not okay, Adam. I’m not okay and I’m not safe for you to be around.”

He’s staring at me, so stunned he’s forgotten how to speak.

“Now you know that the rumors are true,” I whisper. “I am crazy. And I am a monster.”

“No,” he breathes. “No—”

“Yes.”

“No,” he says, desperate now. “That’s not true—you’re stronger than this—I know you are—I know
you
,” he says. “I’ve known your heart for ten years,” he says, “and I’ve seen what you had to live through, what you had to go through, and I’m not giving up on you now, not because of this, not because of something like this—”

“How can you say that? How can you still believe that, after everything—after all of this—”

“You,” he says to me, his hands gripping me tighter now, “are one of the bravest, strongest people I’ve ever met. You have the best heart, the best intentions—” He stops. Takes a tight, shaky breath. “You’re the best person I’ve ever known,” he says to me. “You’ve been through the worst possible experiences and you survived with your humanity still intact. How the hell,” he says, his voice breaking now, “am I supposed to let go of you? How can I walk away from you?”

“Adam—”

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “I refuse to believe that this is the end of us. Not if you still love me. Because you’re going to get through this,” he says, “and I will be waiting for you when you’re ready. I’m not going anywhere. There won’t be another person for me. You’re the only one I’ve ever wanted and that’s never,” he says, “that’s
never
going to change.”