When the waitress comes to take our dinner orders, I eye the empty dip tray.

“Actually,” Reina says, “I think we’ll take another dip and some mozzarella sticks.” She winks at me as the waitress walks away.

Maybe I’m easy to read.

Or maybe Reina’s starting to know me.

It’s weird to have other people anticipate what you want. The only other person who’s done that for me since Mom died was Deb, but it was always so clear she loved Parker that I had to wonder if taking care of me was for his benefit. But with my troupe, I know it’s for me and no one else.

I sip at my water. I don’t know why, but I feel embarrassed about it, like I’ve messed up somehow by letting them get close to me—by letting myself get close to them. But at the same time, this feels right. It’s just as easy as sitting on the couch with them, watching movies.

Like I used to do with Parker. I push past the pain in my chest. I just talked to him this morning. I thought he’d be hurt, and I’d have to explain that it’s not forever—that I’d be back to visit soon—but he sounded excited for me. He said he hoped I upgraded my coin tricks, and I grumbled that he has no appreciation for illusion, and it felt normal. It didn’t make sense that the conversation made the hole in my chest from being away from him open up a little bit more. He’s starting a summer soccer program next week. He’s always wanted to do that. He’s happy. I have to repeat that a few times before the pain goes away. He’s happy. I can chase… whatever I’m chasing. It’s gotten more complicated. At first it was the magic, then the chance for revenge, but now… it’s moments like this, too.

I want too much.

It scares me.

The steaming dip comes, and I dig in so fast that I burn my tongue and have to guzzle my drink and wave at the waitress for a refill.

It doesn’t deter me from going for another scoop.

“So what are your stories?” I blurt out around bites. I’ve been wondering for the past week, but there never seems to be a good opening to ask just how old someone is… or isn’t… on the scale of immortality. I glance around the place before continuing. Most people are at the bar, and no one is paying attention to us. “Was it the magic or the killing vampires?”

“Neither,” they say together—just as in sync as the twins, but cute instead of creepy.

They grin at each other.

“I worked at a pet shop,” Reina says. “Birds were my favorite, so I trained them.”

I choke on my water.