“Is what he said true?” she said. “The fire that killed his parents—did you—”

“I don’t know.” He turned to look at her, and where she expected to find rage and fury, his expression only offered torment. “I don’t know, Quinn. I was sixteen years old. My sister was dead. I hated Michael Merrick with everything. I don’t—” His voice broke, but he caught it. “Gabriel Merrick hated us, too. They all did. I don’t know for sure which one of us started it. But I know I wasn’t the only one. I didn’t have that kind of power, the way the whole house went up in a flash. Not then.”

“But . . . but you’ve called the Guides against the Merricks. You’ve tried to have them killed. You stood in your kitchen and told me you’ve never hurt anyone with your power. What was that about?”

Now she got the fury. “What was I supposed to do?” he snapped. “My parents wanted to kill them for what they’d done to Emily. Was I supposed to stand up and say, ‘Guess what, guys. I’m one, too! Let’s get cake.’ Do you have any idea what it was like for me, knowing what I was, knowing my parents were calling the Guides to come to town to kill off the true Elementals? Knowing I might have played a part in killing my best friend’s parents? Do you have any idea?”

“No.” She wet her lips. “I don’t.” She paused. “But you kept hurting them. You kept going after them. You went after Becca! You kept—”

“Because I had to!” he exploded. “Because that’s what everyone expected! Don’t you get it? They killed my sister. Everyone thought they killed Seth’s parents. I had to hate them.”

“Or else everyone would have hated you.”

A cool wind whipped through the parking lot, reminding her of Nick. Tyler’s breathing was heavy.

“Yeah,” he finally said.

She couldn’t reconcile this in her head. The sweet things he’d whispered to her this morning, the way he’d helped her with her own insane family, the way he’d gotten in her face and made her confront her own fears about herself.

And then this . . . this hate borne of nothing but selfish fear.

“You could stop it,” she said. “You could just . . . stop.”

“I can’t. Quinn, you don’t—”

“Didn’t you pin me against your bathroom wall and tell me to stop pushing people away? That people would help me if I’d give them the chance? The sad, sorry truth is that the Merricks would probably help you if you weren’t so determined to be an asshole.”

“I don’t want their help, Quinn.”

“So you’re just going to keep on being ignorant . . . why, exactly?”