Cold Kiss

yet. Even the little I’ve admitted has left a bitter taste in my mouth. I’ve never said any of this aloud, to anyone, and now Gabriel knows it all, this boy I met a week ago.
    This boy who’s looking at me like a puzzle he wants to solve, but one he’ll enjoy working on for as long as it takes.
    I can’t decide if that’s good or bad, but at the moment it doesn’t really matter.
    “What about your mother?” he asks, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees. His hands are clasped together loosely, his long, tapered fingers more elegant than Danny’s.
    Stop it. God, like that matters.
    “She’s never talked to me about it.” I stop pacing and stand still, letting my head fall forward. I’m so tired. It probably sounds like everything is simply spilling out of me, but it feels like I’m dragging it out bit by bit, all of it heavy and awkward, bumping and scraping against my heart as I release it. “She’s got just as much power as I do, but she refuses to use it most of the time. And she doesn’t talk to my aunt anymore, I think because of it.”
    “So what happened when you first started feeling the power?” Gabriel is frowning, fierce. I take a step backward instinctively.
    “She just sort of brushed it under the rug, so to speak. Robin and I have both seen her do things all our lives, but mostly the results of it, you know?” I rub my temples, trying to think of how to explain it. “She doesn’t actually do it in front of us really, or not often, but if something’s broken it will suddenly be fixed, or the fire will keep burning all afternoon. Stuff like that.”
    “So you never knew what it meant, or how to do anything, you just figured it out on your own?” He’s on his feet now, striding past me, and for a minute I’m sure he’s going to storm out the door to confront my mother.
    But he’s only pacing, too, even if his hands are balled into fists.
    “It sounds bad, I know,” I begin, and he rolls his eyes.
    “Bad? It sounds pretty frigging cruel, if you ask me.”
    Out of nowhere, an urge to protect Mom unfurls in a wash of electricity that blues the light in the room. Gabriel shuts his mouth, but I can tell he’s not really sorry.
    “You don’t know her.” My voice is carefully controlled now, even though it crackles with a leftover spark of power. “You don’t know us. And this isn’t about what she did or didn’t teach me. It was no one’s idea but mine to bring Danny back, and it’s no one’s job but mine to take care of it.”
    It hurts to say that, like Danny is a bag of trash that needs to be put out on the curb. It’s still true, though.
    “I’m sorry, okay?” He comes closer, slowly, and I take a deep breath, tamping down the last vibrating hum of energy inside. And when he takes my hands in his, my first instinct isn’t to run, or to lash out, it’s to hold tight. He waits for a minute, his eyes searching my face, before he speaks again. “I just want to help, Wren. You have to know this isn’t going to have a happy ending. I mean, doesn’t he ask about his family? About his friends?”
    “He didn’t at first.” My voice is so small, even I can barely hear it. “At first, he was happy just to be with me. But then he started to remember things. To want things, other things.” I turn my face up to him, and I can’t hide the tears burning in my eyes. “I didn’t think about this part. I just wanted him back. ”
    “I know.” He’s so close, I can smell the night air clinging to his clothes and his hair. “I’m just afraid of what might happen now.”
    “He would never hurt me.” I’m too quick to say it, and I wonder if Gabriel can tell that I don’t completely believe it anymore.
    “But he can’t live up in that garage forever, Wren. You know that, right?”
    “Of course I know it!” I wrestle my hand free and step back, wiping an escaped tear from one cheek with the back of my hand. “That was a last-minute thing. And I told you, I’m going to figure this out. Just … not tonight.”
    “You can’t put it off, Wren.” He steps closer again, and I back up. I can’t think when he’s so near, so warm.
    “Well, first I have to pass my chemistry test and get through Friday night,” I mutter.
    “What’s Friday night?”
    I huff out a laugh that’s mostly a sigh, and shake my head. “A sleepover. A stupid girly sleepover at my house, because my friends are ready to walk out of my life forever, and I can’t bear it if that