She shrugged, tossing a glance at Malachi, who was sitting silently in the backseat, gazing out the window, searching for threats. “I was up and down with him even before … all this. It’s fine. We can talk about it later.”

“Um. Sure,” I said, feeling a twinge of guilt as I thought about how much I’d rather spend time figuring things out with my boyfriend instead of talking to Tegan about hers. We pulled up outside the shelter. “We better get inside, right?”

Tegan nodded as she stared at one of the more ramshackle houses on the block. She shuddered like a wet cat and got out of the car, clutching her donation envelope to her chest like she thought someone was going to pry it out of her hands.

Rolling my eyes, I opened the trunk and braced myself to lift a big box of canned goods to carry in to the shelter.

“I’ll take it,” Malachi said, stepping close and sliding his hands over the box. Over my hands, lighting me up with hope and a billion other things. Maybe he was over what had happened in the basement. He looked at me out of the corner of his eye and gave me a hesitant smile. “You can take the dry stuff.”

He lifted the heavy box with ease and followed Tegan toward the shelter, leaving me trailing behind. A red SUV pulled up to the curb as I neared the front door, and Ian got out a second later, a worn baseball cap crammed over his messy hair. He smiled wearily at Tegan, who jumped up and down and clapped her hands when she saw him. “The guilt trip worked!”

“I knew Aden wasn’t going to make it.” He shook his head as he stepped onto the sidewalk next to me. “He was kind of messed up last night.”

Malachi tilted his head as he looked at Ian. After all the crap with Jim, I’d forgotten to tell him that I’d run into the star players of our baseball team while they hunted for the Mazikin with paintball guns.

“But you got him home safely?” I asked.

“Yeah. We actually picked up the asshat a few blocks away from here.” He whipped off his cap and ran his fingers through his hair before jamming it back on his head again. Then he gave me a nervous glance. “And sorry about the, um …” He gestured at the phone-shaped bulge in the pocket of my hoodie.

“Sorry about the what?” Malachi turned sharply toward me, the contents of the box in his arms sloshing and clanking.