I was glad we were out on the porch, where everyone by the fire pit could see us. I didn’t think he was going to hurt me, or anything like that—why would he? I felt my hands clasp together in front of me, then move to my side, then rise up to cup my elbows, like they couldn’t figure out what they wanted to be doing.

I hadn’t forgotten my whole purpose in coming here, but I couldn’t bring myself to ask for his help. He clearly had a good grasp on his own abilities if he was voluntarily diving into people’s minds—the question should have come as naturally as breathing.

If he had these kids following his every whim and order, it had to be because he was a good guy, right? People didn’t help other people just for their health. Clancy had the kind of confidence that made him the sun at the center of East River’s galaxy. Everything and everyone orbited around his light.

So why couldn’t I bring myself to ask? Why were my hands still shaking?

“I know you probably won’t ever come around to liking me after our introduction,” he said, “but I am sorry. It didn’t occur to me that you were keeping that information secret.”

“It’s fine,” I said. “But what does that have to do with my work assignment?”

For a few moments, he didn’t say anything at all. He just…stared.

“Will you stop?” I muttered, feeling both flustered and annoyed at once. “If I say you’re forgiven, will you stop doing that?”

His mouth turned up in a handsome grin. “No.”

Clancy, who apparently had never been taught about respecting someone’s personal space, took a step forward, and I took a step back, off the porch, my feet sinking into the sticky mud. Instead of backing off, he seemed to take it as a challenge, and came toward me again. For whatever reason, mostly the flutter of nerves in my gut, I let him.

“Listen,” he said, finally. “The reason I told Mike not to assign you anything is because I’m hoping that you’ll come work with me.”

“Excuse me?”

“Come on, you heard me.” His hand closed over my arm, and it was like a bee had been set loose inside of my skull. My brain seemed to lurch full speed back into life, flooding with milky-white images of the two of us sitting in front his desk, staring at each other as a fire devoured everything around us.

The images he was flooding into my mind.

I don’t know how he did it, but it was so real. The image was burning me up from the inside out, blistering my lungs. Pockets of acrid smoke bubbled up under my skin, until it felt like I was about to burst open. My vision burned to black at the edges. Fire bloomed on my clothes, singeing my hair.

This is not real, this is not real, this is NOT REAL—