Cold Kiss

already rationalized that if Trevor hadn’t let me go early, I wouldn’t have been able to get to the loft now anyway.
    You could have gone straight there , the nasty voice that I’ve come to hate whispers in my head. Mom won’t expect you for almost an hour. You could be with him right now.
    I squeeze my eyes shut, ignoring it, trying to get myself together as Gabriel turns on another lamp and strips off his jacket. When I hear the heavy canvas hit the floor, I breathe out. I’m being stupid. I hate being stupid. We’re only going to talk, and if I’m lucky, Gabriel will know things that can help me.
    I don’t want to think about what he might be able to help me do, though, not yet. One thing at a time.
    “You want something to drink?” he says, and I start at the sound of his voice, suddenly a lot nearer than I imagined.
    I turn around and he’s right there, head cocked to one side. “I’m good, thanks.” My voice trembles a little, and it makes me furious.
    But I’m not nervous because of Gabriel. I’m not scared of him. I’m scared of myself, and the fact that I like being close to him as much as I do. If I closed my eyes again right now, I know I could feel the Gabriel from my dream, the heat of his chest under my cheek, the weight of his hand on my back.
    I take a step backward, and the back of my calf smacks the coffee table so hard it wobbles. Gabriel’s nice enough to pretend not to notice, though, and instead gently disentangles my backpack from my hands.
    “Take your coat off and sit down?”
    I nod, hoping I can manage that without looking like a complete moron. He slouches next to me, and for a minute we’re silent.
    “So,” he finally says, and takes a deep breath. “You raised your boyfriend from the dead.”
    I wince. “I had nothing to do that night?”
    “Wren, it’s not funny.”
    I groan and sink into the sofa, tilting my head back to stare at the ceiling. There’s a stain on the plaster in the shape of a rabbit’s foot. Does that mean Gabriel is going to bring me good luck? I doubt it.
    “I know it’s not funny, okay? I know exactly how funny it isn’t, and I’ve known since that night. It just hurt so much, Gabriel, you don’t even know. And I…” I stop and twist my head to look him in the eye. “I’m not sure I really expected it to work, you know? I mean, I did, but I didn’t. And I definitely didn’t think about what would happen afterward. All I wanted was to see him again, touch him again. When he appeared in the graveyard, I thought my heart would stop. I hadn’t even thought about what would happen next, you know? And now…” My voice trails off in the silence, a little wisp of sound that shames me.
    “Now you have your dead boyfriend living in your neighbor’s garage.”
    “God, stop it!” I sit up, knocking into him with my elbow. “I told you, I get it. And if all you’re going to do is sit there all Judgey McJudgerson and tell me things I already know, then fuck you.”
    He grabs my arm before I can get up, pulling me back down onto the sofa and holding my hand tight. “Stop. I’m sorry. It’s just a lot to wrap your head around, you know? For anybody who’s not you, it takes a little repeating just to believe it.”
    “But you saw,” I whisper, and swallow hard as I look at him.
    He nods, and the motion is weighted with sadness. “I saw. Wren, magic like that is serious stuff. It’s dark arts all the way. It means…” It’s his turn to leave the sentence unfinished, and he stares at our tangled hands while he thinks.
    “What?” I say when he’s silent too long. “What does it mean?”
    “You’re powerful.” His eyes are slate now, darker than I’ve ever seen them. “I can feel it inside you, and it’s big. Really big, and that’s a little scary. My grandmother died a long time ago, but my mom told me some stories about her, and I don’t think she could have done what you did, you know?”
    The not that she would have tried goes unspoken.
    I wrench my hand out of his and stand up, and even though my legs are suddenly a little shaky, I pace back and forth. “It’s not something I asked for, Gabriel. We…” It’s another secret, maybe a bigger one, but he has to know, even if telling it feels like the worst kind of betrayal. “The women in my family can all do this. Magic, the craft, whatever you want to call it. All of them. Robin’s almost there right now. And my mother…”
    I can’t say any more, not