My mind is working fast, trying to solve an impossible equation, and a crazy theory takes root inside of me, crystallizing in a way I’d never thought it could.
This whole time I’ve been training to control my power, to contain it, to focus it—but I never thought I’d be able to turn it off. And I don’t know why.
Adam had a similar problem: he’d been running on electricum his whole life. But now he’s learned how to control it. To power it down when he needs to.
Shouldn’t I be able to do the same?
Kenji can go visible and invisible whenever he likes—it was something he had to teach himself after training for a long time, after understanding how to shift from one state of being to another. I remember the story he told me from when he was little: he turned invisible for a couple of days without knowing how to change back. But eventually he did.
Castle, Brendan, Winston, Lily—they can all turn their abilities on and off. Castle doesn’t move things with his mind by accident. Brendan doesn’t electrocute everything he touches. Winston can tighten and loosen his limbs at will, and Lily can look around normally, without taking snapshots of everything with her eyes.
Why am I the only one without an off switch?
My mind is overwhelmed as I process the possibilities. I begin to realize that I never even tried to turn my power off, because I always thought it would be impossible. I assumed I was fated to this life, to an existence in which my hands—my skin—would always, always keep me away from others.
But now?
“Kenji!” I cry out as I run toward him.
Kenji glances over his shoulder at me, but doesn’t have the chance to turn all the way around before I crash into him, grabbing his hands and squeezing them in my own. “Don’t let go,” I tell him, eyes filling fast with tears. “Don’t let go. You don’t have to let go.”
Kenji is frozen, shock and amazement all over his face. He looks at our hands. Looks back up at me.
“You learned how to control it?” he asks.
I can hardly speak. I manage to nod, tears spilling down my cheeks. “I think I’ve had it contained, all this time, and just didn’t know it. I never would’ve risked practicing it on anyone.”
“Damn, princess,” he says softly, his own eyes shining. “I’m so proud of you.”
Everyone is crowding around us now.
Castle pulls me into a fierce hug, and Brendan and Winston and Lily and Ian and Alia jump on top of him, crushing me all at once. They’re cheering and clapping and shaking my hand and I’ve never felt so much support or so much strength in our group before. No moment in my life has ever been more extraordinary than this.
But when the congratulations ebb and the good-nights begin, I pull Kenji aside for one last hug.
“So,” I say to him, rocking on my heels. “I can touch anyone I want now.”
“Yeah, I know.” He laughs, cocking an eyebrow.
“Do you know what that means?”
“Are you asking me out?”
“You know what this means, right?”
“Because I’m flattered, really, but I still think we’re much better off as friends—”
“Kenji.”
He grins. Musses my hair. “No,” he says. “I don’t know. What does it mean?”
“It means a million things,” I say to him, standing on tiptoe to look him in the eye. “But it also means that now I will never end up with anyone by default. I can do anything I want now. Be with anyone I want. And it’ll be my choice.”
Kenji just looks at me for a long time. Smiles. Finally, he drops his eyes. Nods.
And says, “Go do what you gotta do, J.”
FIFTY-FIVE
When I get off the elevator and step into Warner’s office, all the lights are off. Everything is swimming in an inky sort of black, and it takes me several tries to adjust my eyes to the darkness. I pad my way through the office carefully, searching for any sign of its owner, and find none.
I head into the bedroom.
Warner is sitting on the edge of the mattress, his coat thrown on the floor, his boots kicked off to the side. He’s sitting in silence, palms up on his lap, looking into his hands like he’s searching for something he cannot find.
“Aaron?” I whisper, moving forward.
He lifts his head. Looks at me.
And something inside of me shatters.
Every vertebra, every knuckle, both kneecaps, both hips. I am a pile of bones on the floor and no one knows it but me. I am a broken skeleton with a beating heart.
Exhale, I tell myself.
Exhale.
“I’m so sorry,” are the first words I whisper.
He nods. Gets to his feet.
“Thank you,” he says to no one at all as he walks out the door.
I follow him across the bedroom and into his office. Call out his name.
He stops in front of the boardroom table, his back to me, his hands gripping the edge. “Please, Juliette, not tonight, I can’t—”
“You’re right,” I finally say. “You’ve always been right.”
He turns around, so slowly.
I’m looking into his eyes and I’m suddenly petrified. I’m suddenly nervous and suddenly worried and suddenly so sure I’m going to do this all wrong but maybe wrong is the only way to do it because I can’t keep it to myself anymore. There are so many things I need to tell him. Things I’ve been too much of a coward to admit, even to myself.
“Right about what?” His green eyes are wide. Scared.
I hold my fingers to my mouth, still so afraid to speak.
I do so much with these lips, I think.
I taste and touch and kiss and I’ve pressed them to the tender parts of his skin and I’ve made promises and told lies and touched lives all with these two lips and the words they form, the shapes and sounds they curve around. But right now my lips wish he would just read my mind because the truth is I’ve been hoping I’d never have to say any of it, these thoughts, out loud.
“I do want you,” I say to him, my voice shaking. “I want you so much it scares me.”
I see the movement in his throat, the effort he’s making to keep still. His eyes are terrified.
“I lied to you,” I tell him, words tripping and stumbling out of me. “That night. When I said I didn’t want to be with you. I lied. Because you were right. I was a coward. I didn’t want to admit the truth to myself, and I felt so guilty for preferring you, for wanting to spend all my time with you, even when everything was falling apart. I was confused about Adam, I was confused about who I was supposed to be and I didn’t know what I was doing and I was stupid,” I say. “I was stupid and inconsiderate and I tried to blame it on you and I hurt you, so badly.” I try to breathe. “And I’m so, so sorry.”