Except . . . Jack frowned up at the sky. . . . the asteroid would keep Charlie home. She couldn’t go Wild unless going Wild would save the world. But after the asteroid, even if only the family survived, she wouldn’t stay. He didn’t know what he’d do when Charlie left. She’d said they’d always have what they had, but how long would she be willing to come around and talk to him through the fence separating her from the rest of the family? He’d finally go Wild himself, driven by frustration, and spend all his time chasing her but never catching her.

“If you want to be a Gale . . .”

What did want have to do with it? Being a Gale was a matter of blood. He might not have known he was a Gale for the first thirteen years of his life, but that didn’t change the fa . . .

A dragon’s shadow blocked the sun.

Pines cracked as Jack snapped out to full size and were flung aside by his downdraft as he took to the air.

The other dragon flew east, the rising sun masking his color. Didn’t matter. For as long as it lasted, the MidRealm was his world. Not even Uncle Adam got a free pass.

Closer. Closer. The invader was fast, but Jack burned his frustration as fuel, shredding the thirteen years that kept Charlie from him with every beat of his wings. Closer. He opened his mouth to roar and choked, coughing clouds of smoke out his nose as bands of power clamped his muzzle shut.

The other dragon dropped a wingtip and pivoted around it. Excluding Jack’s mother, this was the largest dragon Jack had ever seen. As he passed, scales gleaming in the sun, he said, “I have a proposition for you, Jack. We should land and talk.”

“Fucking California,” Charlie muttered, dragging the blanket over her head and cutting off the beam of sunlight that had slapped her awake with sudden light and heat. It was obviously morning. She was just as obviously not getting up. Not given the time she’d gotten to sleep. Kiren had been right, the sofa was comfortable. Both long enough and wide enough and with the big, floral sofa cushions tossed to the floor, Charlie rated it in the top ten of sofas she’d spent the night on in spite of its proximity to the curtainless east window. Would’ve made the top five had she not been alone.

For certain values of being alone that ignored the empty place Jack should . . .

Jack!

Throwing the blanket aside, she surged up onto her feet and ran across the room to where her jacket hung on the back of one of the dining room chairs.

She couldn’t feel Jack.

The connection hadn’t been broken, it just wasn’t.

He wasn’t dead, but he wasn’t there.

Where the hell was her phone?