Silver was in prison. The middle school Elementals had been convinced to lie low. Calla was missing, but this didn’t feel like a Fire Elemental.

Then the sensation was gone, so subtly that Nick wondered if he’d really felt it at all.

The barista gave him a bright smile when they made it to the counter. “One of the Merrick twins,” she said. “Which one are you?”

Nick blinked, surprised, then realized he knew her from school. Cute, with almond-shaped eyes, carefully highlighted hair, and clothes just tight enough to get a second glance from most guys. Courtney or Carrie or something.

Nick felt himself sliding into the familiar, doing what was expected. He had to, or people might talk. He returned her flirtatious smile and gave her their typical twin line. “Does it matter?”

She gave him a mock pout and probably thought she looked sexy. It did absolutely nothing for him. “What’s going in your cup?” she said.

He met her eyes and gave it right back. “Surprise me.”

“Something hot and sweet coming right up.”

“Make the same for me, sugar,” said Adam.

While she smiled and grabbed a second cup, Adam leaned close enough to whisper to Nick. “I can play this game, too.”

He was teasing, but Nick felt the undercurrent of . . . something else. Admonishment? Sadness? Disappointment? All three? Before he could puzzle it out, Adam drew back and pulled out his wallet.

“I’ve got it,” said Nick.

“No way. You’re doing me a favor. I got it.”

“A favor?”

“Giving me a ride home.”

Oh.

Nick felt like he was stumbling through his evening, and every step was wrong. When Courtney-Carrie-Whatever handed them their cups, he could barely get it together to thank her.

She’d written her number on the cardboard sleeve. Along with her name—Courtnie—with a big heart over the I.

“Ready to go?” said Adam.

“Yeah. I—” Nick hesitated, not even sure what he was going to say. “Yeah. I’m ready.”

Their breaths fogged when they stepped outside. After the warmth and bustle of the Starbucks, the sudden silence closed in around Nick.

“I’m not chasing you off,” said Adam. “I just knew we couldn’t talk in there.”

“Okay.” Nick thought he should apologize, but he couldn’t quite nail down why. The truck rumbled to life, and he reached out to twirl the dials to get the heat going again. Cinnamon and vanilla wafted from the paper cups to filter through the cab, warm scents that pulled some of the tension from his shoulders.

“So what’s it feel like?” said Adam.

“What’s what feel like?”

“The back wall of that closet you’ve buried yourself inside.”

His voice wasn’t unkind, but Nick heard an echo of what he’d felt inside the coffee shop. Not quite judgment. But almost.

Nick wrapped his hands around his cup and inhaled the steam. “It sucks.” He paused. “Sorry—in there—”