Chapter 4

KAT'S POV Exhaustion has become my new normal. It’s a gritty film over my eyes, a heaviness in my bones that no amount of sleep can lift. Every minute not spent studying or trying to pretend everything is okay is stolen for midnight meetings by the riverbank. My mother’s grief is a cold, damp thing I carry with me back to bed before dawn. Dad is gone. Really gone. He’d packed a bag after another screaming match with Mom, told me it was my choice if I kept in touch with her, but that he wanted nothing to do with “that liar.” His words left a bruise on my soul. So I become a ghost in my own life, sneaking out to haunt the riverbanks where my mother waits, her despair so thick I can taste it on the night air. It’s fraying my edges. Ezra can see it. He closes his laptop with a definitive snap, his gaze finding me curled on the couch like a drained battery. “You’re always so tired lately,” he murmrows, his voice laced with a concern that feels like a guilty weight. I yawn, a jaw-cracking thing, and he pulls me onto his lap. I sink against his chest, seeking his warmth, but the comfort is tinged with my own deception. He kisses my shoulder, a gentle press, and I have to fight the urge to flinch. A knock at the door. I start to move, but Ezra’s arm becomes a steel band around my waist, holding me in place. “You don’t have to knock, Mateo,” he calls out, his voice tightening. Mateo slouches in, a shadow of his former self. He collapses onto the opposite couch, his head lolling back. His eyes, usually so vibrant, flick over us with a dull fatigue. “Jackson’s men were at the border again today,” he reports, the words flat. “I know. Alex mind-linked me,” Ezra replies, his hand instinctively soothing my suddenly tense back. “They didn’t cross. Just watching.” The silence stretches, thin and awkward. Mateo lifts his head, his gaze briefly connecting with mine. “Have you heard from Jasmine?” I shake my head, a knot forming in my stomach. “She’s been busy with Angie, helping at the clinic. Why? Haven’t you?” “Not for three days,” he shrugs, the movement utterly defeated. He studies us for a moment—Ezra holding me, the picture of mated calm—and something flashes in his eyes. It might have been a smile, but it drowned before it reached the surface. He stands, stretching like his body aches. “I’ll leave you to it.” “Going out again?” Ezra asks, the disapproval clear. “Nothing else to do,” Mateo tosses over his shoulder, already at the door. Ezra scowls. “You could stay. Movies. Cards.” Mateo stops, his hand on the doorknob. He turns, his eyes locking on me, a flicker of the old Mateo in their challenge. “No horror flicks?” he demands, suspicious. “One is. The other is Mateo-approved,” I offer, forcing a small smile. He considers, the loneliness warring with his pride. “Fine. Shower. Pizza. We get the stupid horror one over with first. No torturing me like last time.” A full-body shudder. “Deal?” “Deal,” I agree. A real, if fleeting, smile touches his lips before he vanishes upstairs. “I’m worried about him,” Ezra says into the quiet. “Me too.” The buoyant, irrepressible Mateo is gone, replaced by this closed-off, scent-cloaked stranger. “Want me to ask Jasmine to come?” I suggest, already reaching for the mind-link. Maybe her presence could pull him back. Ezra nods against my hair. I focus, pushing the link open. Hey, Jaz. Kit Kat? What’s up? Movie night. Cards. You in? A pause. Hesitance bleeds through the connection. Will… Mateo be there? Yes. I know you fought, but he’s a good guy, Jaz. I know. It’s not that, Kat. Her mental voice shifts, brightening with an excitement that chills me. I found him. Huh? My mate. It’s Angie’s oldest brother. He came back three days ago. I finally found him! Her joy is a radiant squeal, but it hits me like a physical blow, a sucker-punch of dread for Mateo. Happiness for her wars with a crushing sadness for him. Does Mateo know? I ask, the question heavy. I should go, Kat. The link snaps shut, leaving a hollow echo. Cowardice. I’m immediately furious with her. She owes him the truth, no matter how messy. “What did she say?” Ezra asks, reading my stormy expression. “She’s… busy,” I lie, the words ash in my mouth. It’s not my secret to tell, but the omission feels like a betrayal. The evening unfolds in a bizarre parody of normalcy. We eat pizza. We play poker, which they abandon when I keep winning. And we watch Ezra’s chosen horror series, which has Mateo glued to the couch cushion, his bravado utterly vanished. During a bathroom break, an evil, playful idea sparks in my tired brain. As we walk back through the dark rec room, I let my eyes go wide, pointing a trembling finger. “What is that?” Mateo whirls around, and I sprint out, slamming the door behind me. His subsequent shriek is the sound of pure, undiluted terror. He bangs on the door, screaming my name. When I finally release the handle, he bursts out like a shot, sprinting past my hiding spot for the safety of the living room lights. “Where is she?!” he growls at Ezra, who is trying and failing to keep a straight face. I sneak up behind him. “Boo!” He leaps a foot in the air, crashes over the couch, and lands on a grunting Ezra. For a few beautiful minutes, we are just us again—laughing, Mateo fake-scolding me, the heavy cloud around him momentarily scattered. He drags me over the couch, and I end up sandwiched between them, the simple, familiar contact a balm. But the clock in my head is ticking. 11 PM approaches. I need them asleep. Ezra, mercifully, calls it a night. Mateo protests about his promised Lion King until Ezra, to my shock, sighs. “Watch it in our room, then. Hurry up.” So, we end up in a bizarre, comfortable pile in the big bed—Ezra on one side of me, drifting off almost immediately, Mateo on the other, finally engrossed in the cartoon. I fight to keep my eyes open, watching the digital numbers change. When it’s time, I carefully extricate myself. Mateo’s leg is thrown over mine. As I lift it, his hand shoots out in his sleep, grasping my hip. I freeze. “Where are you going?” he mumbles, his voice thick with sleep but his grip firm.