He shuddered and I smiled. Same old Jenks.

I couldn’t keep myself from stiffening when he began rummaging in the music, and apparently sensing it, he stopped, putting his hands in his lap to stare out the front window at the darkening sky. We had come out of the woods and were starting to see homes and businesses strung out along the road in a thin strip. Behind them was the flat blue of the lake, gray in the fading light.

“Rachel,” he said, his voice soft with regret. “I don’t know if I can come back.”

Alarmed, I looked at him, then the road, then at him again. “What do you mean you don’t know. If it’s about Trent—”

He held up a hand, his brow pinched. “It’s not Trent. I figured out he’s an elf after helping Ceri last night.”

I jerked and the van crossed the yellow line. A horn blew, and I yanked the wheel back. “You figured it out?” I stammered, feeling my heart pound. “Jenks, I wanted to tell you. Really. But I was afraid you would blab, and—”

“I’m not going to tell anyone,” he said, and I could see it was killing him. It would have brought him a huge amount of prestige in the pixy world. “If I do, then it means you were right in not telling me, and you weren’t.”

His voice was hard, and I felt a stab of guilt. “Then why?” I asked, wishing he had brought this up when we were parked, not when I was trying to navigate the outskirts of an unfamiliar town, bright with neon lights.

For a moment he was silent, his young face pensive as he put his thoughts in order. “I’m eighteen,” he finally said. “Do you know how old that is for a pixy? I’m slowing down. You nicked me last fall. Ivy can snag me whenever she wants.”

“Ivy’s got Piscary’s undead reactions,” I said, scared. “And I was lucky. Jenks, you look great. You aren’t old.”

“Rachel…” he said around a sigh. “My kids are moving out to make their own lives. The garden is starting to go empty. I’m not complaining,” he rushed on. “The wish for sterility I got from you is a blessing, since the last three years of children in a pixy’s life have a very low life expectancy and it would kill Matalina knowing she was having children that wouldn’t live a week past her. Little Josephina…she’s flying now. She’s going to make it.”

His voice cut off, cracking, and my throat tightened.

“Between that wish and the garden,” he continued, staring out the front window, “I’m not worried about any of my children surviving past Matalina and me, and I thank you for that.”

“Jenks—” I started, wanting him to stop.

“Shut up,” he said hotly, his smooth cheeks reddening. “I don’t want your pity.” Clearly angry, he put a hand on the open windowsill. “It’s my own fault. It never bothered me until I got to know you and Ivy. I’m old. I don’t care what I look like, and I’m mad as all hell that you two are going to have your damn runner business from now until forever and I’m not going to be a part of it. That’s why I didn’t come back. Not because you didn’t tell me what Trent was.”