Before that thought could go too far, his phone chimed again.

Two texts. Both from Kate.

The first was the one he’d missed while he was hugging Becca.

So are you the pot and I’m the kettle?

Hunter looked up, scanning the hallway, which was quickly emptying of students. If Kate had been watching them, she wasn’t around now.

He looked back at his phone and scrolled to the next message.

Who’s the brunette?

Wow. His fingers flew across the screen.

She’s just a friend.

Her reply popped up in a heartbeat.

She looked very friendly.

He frowned at the phone and typed furiously.

I heard you were pretty friendly with some guy with a pickup truck.

A long pause. Hunter felt his heartbeat slamming against his rib cage.

It felt fantastic to push against someone, to have the upper hand about something.

But it also felt like crap.

You build everyone up to be your enemy.

Did he really do that?

The phone chimed.

I don’t understand what happened.

He frowned at the phone. Then typed.

Me, either.

And he waited, but she didn’t write back.

All day.

At the end of the day, Hunter drove to the Merrick house, but he sat in the jeep with the engine running.

It felt ridiculous, but he wasn’t entirely sure if he was welcome for another night. He hadn’t gone to the cafeteria at lunch, because he’d been making up a quiz he’d missed while job hunting, and it wasn’t like he and Chris ever said a word to each other in World History.

Really, if Casper weren’t locked in the house, he might have gone back to the Target parking lot again.

His breath was fogging in the confines of the car, and he swore. He wasn’t used to being so off balance.

Finally, he threw himself out of the car, setting his shoulders and shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. If they didn’t want him here, he’d just grab his dog and leave.

The front door was unlocked, but Casper wasn’t inside the house. No one was.

For an instant, Hunter wondered if this was some big trick, if they were all screwing with him.

Then he heard a dog bark from the backyard.

He strode through the kitchen and slid the glass door open. The sky was a gradually darkening gray, and the chill in the air had been biting through his clothes all afternoon. Michael was out in the grass, throwing a tennis ball while Casper went tearing after it.

Michael noticed him and looked up. “Hey. How was school?”

“I didn’t get hassled by Vickers or Calla.” He paused. His dog was trotting back to Michael with the ball half hanging out of his mouth. The only acknowledgment he gave Hunter was a quick woof muffled by the ball. Hunter smiled. “Thanks for letting Casper out.”

“He’s been out all day.”

“He has?”

“Yeah. When I walked out the door this morning, he bolted past me and jumped in the bed of the truck. I tried to get him back in the house, but he wouldn’t go. So I just took him with me.”

Casper dropped the ball at Michael’s feet and barked.

“Traitor,” Hunter called.

Michael picked up the ball and beaned it into the woods. He had one hell of an arm—the ball was gone. Casper took off like a shot.

“Where’s everyone else?” Hunter said.

“I didn’t have an evening job, so they all made plans. I think they’re hitting the school carnival later. Aren’t you?”

A carnival. Like he could possibly go to something like that while Calla was probably sitting at home figuring out which house she was going to torch first.

“Nah,” he said.

“So I called your mom today,” said Michael.

Hunter snapped his head up. Michael had asked for his mom’s phone number last night—under the pretense of needing it in case of an emergency. “You what?”

“She needed to know where you were.”

“She has my cell number,” he snapped. “She could have found me if she wanted.” Hunter felt like he couldn’t catch his breath. Emotions ricocheted around in his head.

She’d watched him walk out. He shouldn’t give a crap what she thought.

But he did. A lot.

He didn’t want to ask what she’d said. His fingernails were digging rivets into the porch railing.

Casper was back, dropping the ball at Michael’s feet and nosing it forward when it wasn’t thrown immediately.

Michael obliged him, flinging it into the woods again. It cracked against a tree somewhere out of sight. Casper was off.

Michael glanced up at the porch. “She said she’d put the rest of your things together, if you want to come get them.”

Those words hit hard. Michael could have thrown the ball at him and the impact would have hurt less. Hunter couldn’t even speak. His voice would break and he’d look like a total wuss.

She hadn’t said, “Tell Hunter to come home.”

She’d said she’d pack up his stuff.

Splinters from the railing were beginning to drive up under his fingernails, but the pain was keeping him grounded.

“You doing anything right now? Have any plans?” said Michael.

Hunter swallowed and told himself to knock it off. “Nothing.”

“Good. Come on, I’ll drive you over.”

“I don’t—that’s—” He had to slow his thoughts down or they’d never make it out of his mouth coherently. “I don’t want to go over there.”

“Why?”

Because I don’t want to see her.

Because I don’t want to see him.

Because if I pick up my stuff, that means I really don’t have anywhere to live.

Hunter set his jaw. “What am I going to do, dump it in your basement? Keep sleeping on Nick’s floor?” His voice was hard, but inside, his heart was a frigging wreck. “Casper,” he called. “Hierr.” The dog bolted to his side, but Hunter was already off the porch and heading for the front of the house.

For his car.

“Hey,” Michael called after him.

Hunter didn’t stop.

But Michael was faster than Hunter gave him credit for, and he caught up before Hunter could close the door to his jeep.

Hunter slammed the door back at him, making Michael fall back a step. He followed it up with a solid shove. “Leave me alone,” he shouted. “Just leave me—”

Then his voice broke and he was crying.

This was horrible and humiliating and he wanted to throw the jeep into neutral and just let it roll over himself.

Michael didn’t touch him. Good thing, because Hunter would have punched him.

He imagined it, the motion, the impact, exactly how much force it would take, what a release it would be.

It didn’t help. If anything, he felt coiled more tightly.

He slammed the door and dropped onto the pavement of the driveway, leaning back against his car and pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes.

“Go away,” Hunter said, hating that his voice was thick and made him sound like a sniveling six-year-old. Casper jumped out of the jeep and lay down beside him.

Michael sat down on the other side.

“That is the opposite of going away,” said Hunter.

“Look,” Michael offered. “Your mom was worried about you.”

“I don’t want to talk about her.”

Michael didn’t say anything to that. He didn’t say anything for so long that Hunter swiped a sleeve across his face, then turned to look at him. “I’m not one of your brothers. Stop sitting here. Go. Away.”

“I don’t think,” Michael began slowly, “that your mom offered to pack up your stuff because she didn’t want you to come back.”

Hunter wanted to hit something. Unfortunately, the people who really deserved it weren’t available. “How the hell do you know?”

Michael looked out at the trees lining the driveway. “I don’t. Not really, I guess.” He paused. “You know, there’s not a manual to the whole parent thing.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means . . . I think your mom feels badly about what happened, and she’s not sure how to fix it.” Another pause. “I think . . . by offering to pack up your things, she might think she’s helping.”

Hunter rested his arms on his knees and didn’t respond.

Michael sighed. “I remember when I was eighteen, it was a total shock to realize my parents had been winging it the whole time. Like, there was this one time that Chris—”

“Save it,” said Hunter. “I don’t need any Merrick family anecdotes.”

“Fine,” said Michael equably. “How about a Garrity family anecdote?”

“What?”

“You tell me, Hunter, because we—you and me—don’t have a history here beyond you trying to kill me, and me finding you ready to flatten the Home Depot. You’re not this mad at your mom just for letting your grandfather throw you out. What else is there?”

Hunter gritted his teeth and stared at the trees. The air was crisp and cold, biting through his clothes as easily as the chill in the pavement was biting through his jeans. But being outside helped settle his nerves.

And Michael just waited.

Hunter realized he was holding on to everything so tightly that it was all going to snap and come apart if he wasn’t careful. Like with Gabriel in the cafeteria.

Like with Kate in the car.

And just like that, he found himself talking.

“My parents were a bizarre couple,” he said. “I mean, I never really thought about it, but everybody said so. My dad was in the Marines for a long time. He went through special forces, the whole deal. Even when he got out, he worked private jobs—the dangerous kind. It went right along with being a Guide. I don’t even know all the jobs he took. A lot of them were classified—and now . . . well, now they’re going to be classified forever, I guess.”

He paused, rubbing at the scruff of Casper’s neck.

Michael waited.

“Mom was . . . unique. She had a new age store in the town where we lived, and she played up the part. She did tarot readings, crystal healings, stuff like that. She gave me the stones. I didn’t realize until I started getting powers that they’d start to feel like a part of me . . .” Hunter paused and lined them up along his wrist. “She didn’t know what my dad was—like the Guide stuff—but she always used to dote on him and say he had a special connection to the world around him.” Now, knowing what he knew about his mother and father, Hunter wondered if his dad had laughed about that behind her back.

“Have you ever wanted to tell her?” said Michael. “About what your dad was?”

Hunter shook his head. “No. When I was younger, it was something between me and him. Not like a secret, but more like he got me—” He made a dismissive noise. “This is stupid.”

“It’s not. I get it.”

Hunter glanced over, and Michael shrugged. He was still looking at the trees, which made this whole conversation easier.

“My dad was an Earth Elemental, too.” Michael paused, and it was weighted with feeling. “We didn’t always get along, but—well, you know.”

Hunter nodded and looked back at the trees himself. “People always ask if my dad was strict, and he was—but he wasn’t. I never—I didn’t—”

He had to stop.

His dad would have shit a brick if he’d known Hunter was sitting here crying.

“Was he proud of you?” said Michael.

Hunter snorted. “I never knew where I stood with him.” He had to swallow. God, suck it up. “I never will.”

“I’m sure you have some idea.”