“Stop it, Rachel,” I whispered. Nothing was really ending. Jenks, Ivy, and I had been through worse. We’d get through this, and everything would return to normal. Better even.

But how many times can we get back up as if nothing has changed?

I folded the bag of the grounds down and fastened it shut with one of Ivy’s binder clips. I wished I had a reset button. How far back would I take it? I wondered. To the day I made that deal with Cormel? Farther?

I snapped the coffeemaker on, then found a smile when I heard Trent and Jenks in the hallway. “Coffee ready yet?” Trent called loudly.

“Give it five!” I shouted back. Smile fixed, I leaned against the counter and waited for them to come in. But they didn’t, and I tiptoed to the archway, stopping when I heard Trent mutter, “I know how to wash sheets, Jenks. I’ve got two toddlers.”

He’s doing laundry?

“Hey, okay, cookie man,” Jenks drawled. “It’s your funeral if you shrink them.”

There was a hesitation, and I leaned closer. “Shrink them?” Trent asked.

“Those are one hundred percent cotton,” Jenks said importantly, “not your richy-rich linen stuff. If you use the sterilize cycle, you’ll not only shrink ’em, but set the oils carrying the vampire pheromones into the fabric. Look, Ivy’s got a bottle of no-nose up here.”

My brow furrowed. No-nose?

A cupboard creaked, loud over the sound of water filling the washer, and then Trent’s bemused “I’ve never seen this.”

“Put a splash in. It’ll take care of the vampire cooties and the pheromones, too.”

I could almost see the pixy preening in that he’d known something Trent hadn’t. Sure enough, Trent’s voice held a smidgen of humor and humility when he next spoke. “Thanks. I shouldn’t be so quick to prove I know what I’m doing.”

“Don’t sweat it,” Jenks said, and I eased back into the kitchen. “That’s why Ivy has silk sheets. Me, I don’t like silk. The dust makes them as slippery as all hell.”

Smiling, I busied myself with Trent’s book. I felt bemused and loved. Trent was washing my sheets, the one thing that I wanted most and didn’t have time for. And I hadn’t known about the no-nose, either.

The coffee was gurgling its fragrant last when they came in, the book splayed open before me as my interest in it went from pretend to real. “Smells good,” Trent said, Jenks a humming shadow behind him.

“You want the rainbows or the smiley face?” I asked, reaching for the mugs.

Trent eyed the two overly happy mugs. “Ah, whatever. You need a fresh stick of yew. I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll get the yew, cookie man.” Hands on his hips, Jenks yo-yoed before him. “I want to make sure no one peed on it.”

“I can get it,” Trent insisted, and Jenks darted forward, rocking the larger man back.

“I said . . . I’ll get it,” Jenks said, and I rolled my eyes as the pixy bristled. “Sit and drink your coffee. If I need your help, I’ll whistle. I want to check on, ah, Jumoke, anyway.”