Grandfather and mom. My dad died at the beginning of the summer.
After he hit SEND, he stared at the words. It wasn’t the first time he’d said them, but it was the first time he’d typed them into a text message, and now they were burning themselves into his brain, like they held more power in writing.
He typed something else quickly, just to make the screen scroll.
We live with my grandparents now.
Her message appeared almost instantly.
I’m sorry about your dad.
A long pause, and then another message from Kate.
My mom is dead, too.
Her words held weight, too, as if the screen knew their power. He typed automatically.
I’m sorry.
Then he added,
Don’t you hate when people say that?
Yes. I’m sorry I said it.
Me, too.
This time the pause was really long, as he fought for something to say after that. He wondered if she’d given up on the texting, when a new one appeared.
How did your dad die?
Normally the question would piss him off. But it was different in a text message, from someone else who’d lost a parent.
In a car accident. I was with him. My uncle died, too.
My mom drowned last year.
Hunter flinched. Somehow it seemed worse—but what was the difference?
Another message popped up on the screen.
It wasn’t supposed to happen that way.
It should have seemed like a weird statement—but he got it.
I know exactly what you mean.
Were you and your dad close?
The words hit him like a bullet. Close.
He and his father hadn’t always gotten along, but Hunter had always felt like his father understood him.
He slid his fingers across the screen.
Yeah. Sort of. Sometimes not at all. Bizarre, right?
We’re all pretty bizarre. Some of us are just better at hiding it, that’s all.
He smiled.
Was that a quote from The Breakfast Club?
O_O Most people don’t get that one.
My uncle loved eighties movies. I’ve seen them all.
Nobody puts Baby in the corner.
Wax on, wax off.
I can’t believe I gave my panties to a geek.
He froze. That one sent his thoughts in a dangerous direction. His phone buzzed.
STOP THINKING ABOUT MY PANTIES.
He grinned.
Can’t help it now.
Stare at me tomorrow?
Sure. I’ll be in the caf early.
And that was it. She didn’t respond.
But that was okay. For five minutes, he didn’t feel so alone.
Hunter put his head down against the duffel bag, closed his eyes, and smiled.
CHAPTER 7
Kate sat in the cafeteria and sucked on the end of a Twizzler. She should have been looking for the Merrick brothers.
Instead, she was waiting for Hunter. Her heart was buzzing, and she told it to knock it off. She was here on assignment. She had a task.
And she remembered the way he had gone from total control to utter disaster with the flip of a switch, like watching an intricate glass sculpture shatter into a thousand pieces—only to pull together again until you could barely see the seams. Something about that was intriguing, like the guileless way he responded to her text messages.
Silver didn’t know anything about that.
She had no intention of telling him.
Her cell phone chimed.
I can’t come sit with you.
She didn’t bother looking around. She just texted back.
Why not?
Complicated.
Kate shoved the bag of Twizzlers into the front of her backpack.
I’ll come to you. Where are you?
He didn’t respond, so she sent another text.
Don’t tell me. You’re sitting by the pool on the roof.
That got a response.
Please tell me you didn’t fall for that one.
Kate smiled. Like she’d fall for a freshman prank.
I almost fell for the one about the bomb shelter under the school. Then I realized it was probably just a euphemism. Where are you really?
I’m headed back to my car. You’re sitting near someone I’m not allowed to be around.
She frowned and looked up. She didn’t see the Merricks, so this wasn’t about the one he’d fought with yesterday. But there, at the next table, was the girl with punk hair and flame tattoos along her wrists. The one he’d shoved.
It seemed so incongruous with the way he’d defended her in the office.
Kate gathered her things and started for the parking lot. She had no idea what kind of car he drove, and it wouldn’t be easy to find him—the lot was packed with arriving students. Wind whistled across the pavement to sneak under the lapels of her leather jacket and make her shiver. She wanted to beg the sunlight for warmth, to ask the air to ratchet back a few degrees, but there were too many Elementals at play in this town, and she kept her guard up.
Her phone chimed.
You didn’t have to come looking for me.
She held the Twizzler between her teeth and wrote back.
I thought we had a staring date. Vehicle?
A long pause. She shivered again and wished she’d worn something heavier under her coat.
Finally, her phone chimed again.
White jeep. 20 yards to your right.
She spotted his car at the end of the row, under an oak tree with sagging branches. The engine wasn’t running, but at least she’d be out of this wind. She didn’t even hesitate; just climbed right in and flung her bag on the floorboards.
Hunter glanced over, but it was quick. “Hey.”
She opened her mouth to respond, but a German shepherd stuck his head between the seats and gave a low woof of greeting.
Kate grinned and rubbed the dog’s ears. “You have a dog!”
Hunter nodded, his eyes on the windshield. “His name is Casper.”
His voice was easy enough but carried an undercurrent of strain, which made Kate stop playing with the dog and really look at him. The ends of his hair hung across his face, still damp, from a shower probably, and he hadn’t bothered to use a razor this morning. His eyes looked vaguely shadowed, as if he’d been up half the night.