“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not trying to be anything with you—”

“Yes, you are.” His voice rises, deep and hard like bullets flying. “You’re so busy trying to survive and not get hurt that you’ve built all these walls around you. You want to get to your friends, this Sean guy . . . but what happens when you find them? When you’re with them? I bet you can’t be around them, either. I bet you don’t let even this Sean touch you—”

“Don’t! Please!” I hate how close to the truth he is. He’s right. God.

I’ve been lying to myself. It’s not about feeling uncomfortable here at the compound or among these new carriers. I’m uncomfortable anywhere with anyone. With everyone. I can’t be around people because the girl who could relax and laugh and sing died the moment she took her first life.

But then I realize that’s not entirely true. Because Caden makes me feel alive again. Being around him actually makes me happy. As much as I don’t want to admit it, I enjoy life around him.

He keeps going as though I didn’t beg him to stop. “So you reunite with them, then what? You think you’ll be okay? Will you relax then and be able to forget that you’re a carrier? Will that giant chip on your shoulder disappear?” He’s squared me in, his arms on either side of my head, palms flat on the wall. “You think running from here, from me, like a scared little girl will fix what’s broken in you?”

Words form on my lips. I choke on them and try to shove past him. Tears burn my eyes, and this is maybe the most humiliating thing of all. More humiliating than knowing he knows I’m broken and scared. Now he knows how weak I am, too.

He doesn’t let me move an inch past him. He stands before me like an unbreakable wall. I knot my hands into fists and beat against his chest.

“Davy.” His voice comes out soothing, and that’s worse than his caustic, mocking tone of before.

“No! No!” I slap his chest at each word. “I don’t care what you say. I am leaving here and finding my friends and I am going to be okay. I’ll find . . . I’ll be me again . . . normal.”

I gasp as this confession flies from my mouth. Even he looks stunned.

Then he does the unthinkable. He laughs. “You think you can go back to before? That you can be normal?”

God, did I just say that? Did I really think normal could ever happen for me again? I guess I did. I do. I think it’s out there still, waiting for me. And the first step to finding it is getting away from here and reaching the refuge. I’d built it up in my mind as a place where I could begin again, and it had to be.

But the look on his face, and especially his laughter, wakes me to the fact that I’m delusional. That’s never going to happen. Running from here, I might as well keep running. Because I’m never going to find normal. I’m never even going to find something better. I can find my friends, but even they can’t give me that.

His hands close on my shoulders. He gives me a small shake until I’m looking into his eyes. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have laughed. The last thing I want to do is hurt you. So you can’t be normal. Screw it. Normal is overrated. You can make a new life, Davy, as someone who fights and demands change. It can be a good life. A life of purpose.”

I’m panting and my cheeks are wet. God. I’m actually crying.

“It can be good. It can be,” he says softly, closing the distance between us, the half inch separating our faces vanishing as he brushes his lips with mine, murmuring those soft words.

I gasp. He pulls back. My hand flies to my lips, touching there.

He holds my gaze, looking at me questioningly, waiting a moment before coming down again and claiming my mouth.

He leans into me, his chest pressing flush against me, and I can feel every inch of him as his lips slant over mine. The solidness of his body, his narrow hips settling against me. His hands move from the wall, fingers tunneling into my hair.

He nibbles at my bottom lip. “Kiss me, Davy. Kiss me back.”

The plea works. Crushes the last of my resolve to dust. He’s been under my skin from the start. Pushing me from my self-imposed cage.

My hands creep up his chest and wrap around his neck. The hair at the back of his head is soft and ticklish against my palm. I grab a fistful and deepen the kiss, surrender to the pull I’ve been fighting.

With a moan, his arms wrap around my waist like steel bands, and he lifts me off my feet. Without breaking his mouth from mine, he turns us in a circle and walks us across the room.

We lower ourselves side to side on the mattress. He lifts his mouth and we simply stare at each other, our breaths mingling. He combs his fingers through my hair, brushing it back from my cheeks, his expression intent on me. He tugs the end of one lock. “So you’re really a blonde, huh?”

“Yeah.” My hand flies to the top of my head, where my roots show. “I was going for inconspicuous.”

His thumb brushes my jaw, and he murmurs against my lips, “You want to know a secret?” I nod dumbly. “I’ve always had a thing for blondes.”

I laugh lightly, a giddy sensation pulsing through me. “Lucky me.”

“I never thought I’d have you like this.”

“Like what?” I push back a dark wave of hair from his forehead.

“So soft and sweet, full of laughter . . . letting me kiss you.”

I feel the smile he’s talking about and try not to let it slip away even when his words give me a small taste of panic. Part of me wants to bolt, but I force myself to stay. I can enjoy this. Him. It doesn’t mean I’m weak. It doesn’t mean I’m going to get hurt.