Zoe POV

"I'm not going," I say again.

James's expression does something complicated. He reaches for my arm—not roughly, but with the decisive intention of a man who has decided the conversation is over and the action has started—and I yank back before his hand closes, twisting my wrist free, and take a step that puts real distance between us.

"No," I say. Just that. One word, and I mean it the way you mean a wall.

*****

"Why?" He says it with genuine ...