“You don’t get to make that decision.” He turned to look at her then and, if not for the slide of scales up and down his arms, he’d have looked unaffected by what they were discussing. “That’s the price to keep the world from ending.”

“Jack . . .”

“We can’t let the world end for everyone who isn’t family without doing everything we can to stop it. Right?”

Charlie palmed the top of the press and forced it down. It hadn’t been four minutes. She didn’t care. At this point, she was willing to Walk back eight minutes, beat herself out of the bedroom, and make the coffee sooner. That Jack would offer so much of himself for those outside the family, well, the outside the family was part of the freedom of being Wild, but his total lack of awareness of how astounding it was, of how astounding he was, that was all Jack. The Gale motto was family first. Actually, it was Omnes Sumus nos Postulo, “We are all We Need”; Auntie Ruby had embroidered it on a pillow, but family first was close enough.

“Charlie?”

She took a deep breath and met his eyes, letting everything she felt show in hers. “I have to think about it.”

“You’ve got nine days.”

And that, that didn’t sound young at all. Gods, he was complicated. And amazing. “Oh, yay. Another deadline. You know, if I didn’t already like you too much . . .”

His smile twisted as he cut her off. “Good thing you do. If it was me feeling stuff all alone, well, plain old unrequited liking too much wouldn’t be twisty enough for the Courts. But being kept from someone who completes me . . .”

“Completes you?”

“Totally.”

“Fuck, Jack.” Not the best choice of profanity, she realized.

The cloud of smoke came a heartbeat behind the sound of the apartment door opening. Charlie tried not to think of squids and ink. It was possible she watched a little too much Discovery Channel.

“Honestly, Jack . . .” Auntie Gwen’s indignation led the way. “. . . if I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a hundred times. You can’t smoke around the babies.”

Barely able to see Jack, Charlie stepped back, a hundred thousand performances keeping her hands from shaking as she poured her coffee.

“But they’re in their room.” The smoke moved toward the windows. “With the door closed.”

“That’s them. We’re talking about you.”

“Sorry.”

Auntie Gwen closed the window as the smoke dispersed, invisible in the steady rain. “Don’t be sorry, stop doing it. Is that coffee?”

“It is.” Charlie took a long swallow, then asked, “Would you like some?” She was a little impressed by how normal she sounded.

“No, I was inquiring for interest’s sake. Of course I’d like some.”

Jack passed over a World’s Greatest Auntie mug, and Charlie resisted the urge to hum a charm in as she filled it.