CELESTE
Knox’s eyes turned a shade darker than I had ever seen.
He stood very slowly. “You have every right to be angry,” he said. “But do not twist my intentions into something they’re not. I respect you. I trust you. I believe in you. And I will not let you turn me into the villain because you’re scared.”
“I’m not scared.” I scoffed.
“You are terrified,” he retorted. “You are terrified of losing control, trusting anyone, and terrified that if you let yourself go, everything will fall apart. So instead, you lash out at everyone trying to help you. You’re angry at yourself. Not us.”
“Don’t psychoanalyze me,” I snapped.
His lips pressed into a thin line.
“You act as you understand me,” I spat. “Like you can fix me.”
“Celeste, I have never tried to tame or fix you.”
“Oh, please,”
