I’m covered in spring debris by the time I arrive at the cove. My sneakers are soaked. My running clothes are equally decorated in mud, but I feel positively glorious.

I knock on the door and wait for someone to clean me up. Stripping down on the porch won’t save my clothes. “I need a clean sweep,” I blurt when Ryan opens the door.

He laughs. “We can’t let the fashion police catch you.” Tally does enough complaining without provocation. This is the epitome of provocation.

I rarely get to see Ryan play with his powers. I’m curious how he’ll go about the task. He motions for me to step off the porch. Will it feel like getting hit by a high-pressure hose? Hmm. Probably not. Hopefully not. It’s a tad too late to chicken out now, even if he can’t control the spray. Regrets? I have some.

“Hold your breath,” he suggests.

I pinch my nose for good measure. He extends his hands toward me and wiggles his fingers. I feel the spray wash seconds later. The pressure’s fine. He even controls the temperature to some degree. It isn’t hot like I prefer in a shower but is superior to a frosty current. I pirouette to ensure he’s getting those hard to reach places.

We’re both laughing by the time he’s finished, and Declan comes outside to see what the commotion is. He drums his fingers on his thighs, shaking his head. His sudden maturity surprises me.

“That’s not any better,” Ryan reports. “Now you’re a drowned rat.”

I grin, wringing water from my sopping wet shirt. Hey, the mud is gone. Point to Ryan.

“How did you make such a mess of yourself?”

“Oh, it wasn’t me. Some boys were having fun. They did it by accident…at first.” Such antics aren’t new to me, and it’s nice to find a degree of normalcy in my lack of retaliation.

“Let me dry you off,” Declan offers. “Apparently, you’re cold.”

Ryan looks worried. He didn’t factor in the cold being a problem as he warmed up the water. Then again, he has no idea I used most of my fire fuel earlier with Derry and spent what little I refilled on the run.

“Good” —chattering teeth—“plan.”

Declan points hand guns at me. When he pulls the triggers, the force of the wind makes my skin feel like it’s being peeled from the bones. I try to clamp my curling lips together. In under ten seconds, I’m completely dry. Do I still have a face? Odds aren’t great.

Still there, Supermom states. Subjectively great.

Ryan pats Declan on the back. “We need to work on your technique.”

“What’s wrong with my technique?” he snaps. “She’s dry, isn’t she?”

I force my resistant eyelids to blink. “If you give Kiley that kind of power, you won’t have to obsess on me stopping the transfer.”

Declan’s brow hits the skyline.

“You’ll knock her into next week!”

“That’s perfect. I can recharge.”

“Seriously, though. Still human.”

He grimaces. “I forget, sometimes.”

“How could you forget the one thing stopping her from being almost tolerable,” Tally crows.

“Hi, Tally!”

“Spray-wash and Blow-dry both need to work on their technique,” she admonishes. “You’re a hot mess.”

“Um.” I consider how to approach her appearance. Honesty wins out. “So are you.” She has stuffing all over her like she attacked something plush and lost the fight.

Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

She huffs, storming back inside.

“What happened to her?”

On cue, a delivery truck pulls into the driveway behind me. The driver looks terrified as he brings a package to the porch. Upon realizing whoever previously did the terrorizing isn’t present, he chucks it at me and takes off in a near run.

“I guess he’s forgoing the signature requirement this time,” Declan deadpans.

My eyes widen. “This time?”

Declan smirks.

“Is this for Tally?”

Ryan’s cringe is all the verification I need.

“If you offer to light it on fire, she may calm down enough to tell us what happened,” Declan reasons.

“Sorry, my fire fuel tank’s empty.”

Ryan gushes parental concern, and I redirect. “What’s in the box?” I shake it, testing the weight.

“Panda bear,” they answer simultaneously.

I lift a questioning brow.

“Every hour on the hour.” Declan sounds tired. He sighs, exuding his Delphinium and Allspice scent. “That poor driver must hate his job right now.”

“Bears from Barry? What a Big Cheese.”

They don’t laugh. Without a doubt, I need to witness her reaction for myself to scare away the humor. I prepare for any number of theatrical responses.

The condition of the house is far worse than poor Tally looked. Stuffing is everywhere. How many bears did she destroy? I stow the box behind the shoe rack out of her line of sight. She’s standing by one of the large picture windows, staring at the water. The ice is mostly broken apart, but larger pieces are floating on top.

I brave the distance between us, inhaling her Narcissus and Sage. “Bears, huh?”

“As if some stupid stuffed animals will make everything okay,” she grouses.

“Home run on pandas. You know, since they’re black and white?”

She stink-eyes me. Not even a thoughtful gesture accommodating her color preference will win her over.

“Not a fan of stuffed mementos?”

She shrugs.

“Do you want to help me get ready for dinner?” Playing dress up might lift her mood.

“Let them starve. You can all starve, for all I care.”

I don’t generally call her on her bluffs, but I don’t think she’s bluffing. Queen Tally’s royally ticked. She’s not taking the news well that her boyfriend’s a Sumair. Can’t say I didn’t predict this when she made a very specific point of repeatedly broadcasting her disdain.

“Ryan could use your support,” I switch tactics. “We’re attempting augmentation tonight. He wants you there.”

Presumably, I’ll help Ryan offer Mel his Solathair energy. If our experiment succeeds, it could mean we’ve found a way for Solathairs and Sumairs to live peacefully.

“I can’t believe how childish they’re being. You, I’d expect this from. You’re constantly acting foolish. Despite your designation, you’re clearly not the brightest bulb in the bunch. Them, it makes no sense.”

Hello, Pot. This is Kettle again. All good? Supermom tuts.

I peruse the bits of stuffing littering the living room. “They’re childish?”

“Overreacting a smidge doesn’t mean I’m wrong. This isn’t a wise idea.”

“Why not?”

“It’s dangerous.” She plants her hands on her hips. “You can barely contain your flame, and when you use it, fire fiasco ensues. You think you can stop their very nature?”

“I did it with Connor,” I remind her.

“Totally different circumstance. Connor was taking your energy. Of course you’d be more attached to that than ours.”

As the heat reserves fill, my cheeks pink up. “You think I don’t care about you?”

“You’ve spent the largest portion of your life not caring about anything.” She taps her foot impatiently on the floor. “You tell me.”

I suck in a breath. She’s right. I did spend the majority of my life shutting myself off from emotional attachment. Maybe I don’t know how to care.

“We care. Your ability lets you feel that. How much of what you’re experiencing is legitimately you? How much is a reflection of our feelings instead? You are fire, for goodness sake. You consume. You’re just feeling what we feel. Secondhand sentiment.”

“You’re one to talk. I can barely breathe from your hypocrisy smothering me.”

“I’m exactly the one to talk.” She stands her ground, looking down her nose at me. “I can admit how self-absorbed I am. Do you even have a clue?”

The key overlooked point is I tried to stifle my emotions. I tried not to care. My attempts bombed magnificently.

“I do care about you, Tally, but I’m not sure why. Will you ever fight your way free from all the hatred inside you? I pity you. You have a chance at real happily-ever-after happiness, and you’re letting it slip through your fingers because you’re too busy clutching desperately to the giant chip on your shoulder.”

She sighs. Am I making headway?

“When you’re all finished playing with fate and finally give up your hopeless hope, I’ll be here,” she mutters. “I’ll be using my chip to pick out a song on one of Declan’s abandoned guitars. We wouldn’t want them to get all dusty, would we?”

“A country song.”

“A sad country song,” she agrees. “The only thing befitting your return.”

“It’ll be a long, lonely wait for you.”

She smiles tightly. “I’m never alone.”

I retrieve the hidden package, kicking it over. “I’m raiding your closet.”

“Like that’ll help you.”

On my way up the stairs to the bathroom, I decide to motion for a strict interference referendum where Tally’s concerned. If Barry does what’s good for him, he’ll give up on her, at least for now. Time is the only way she’ll get over this. She’ll eventually come around, right? The alternative, unfortunately, is to keep herself company. It won’t take long for her to get sick of that.