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Thomas reached over to touch me lightly on the arm. “Do you think you and I could talk for a second? By ourselves?”
“Dru,” Michael said, standing and stepping around my chair, steadying himself by placing his fingertips on the table. “I wanted to ask you about one of the art photos in my loft. I wondered if you had contact information on the photographer. Can we go look at it?”
“No problem. But if it’s a photograph, I can guess who took it. Have you met Em’s friend Lily?” Dru asked as they left the table together. She cast a worried look over her shoulder as they walked to the door, her dark hair hiding half of her face but none of her concern. The phantom musicians seamlessly transitioned from a Cole Porter classic to a Billie Holiday standard.
Once the heavy wooden door closed behind Michael and Dru, Thomas looked at me intently. “Truth time.”
“I’ve been telling the truth since we sat down, Thomas. You think I could make all that up?”
“Not that.” He pulled a green packet of sugar substitute from a ceramic holder on the table. “You know I believe you, at least I hope you do. What I’m talking about is the way you sounded when you two were explaining everything.”
I crossed my arms over my chest and waited.
“Even though I’ve been your legal guardian for the past four years, you’ve pretty much made your own decisions about how you run your life. The only exception was when you were …” He paused, his face cautious as he tried to figure out how to put it delicately.
“Committed.” I said it for him. “It’s okay. It’s not a dirty word.”
Thomas acknowledged the word but didn’t expand on the subject, just continued folding and refolding the tiny green packet in his hands. “You’re almost an adult. I can’t really tell you what to do anymore.”
“I’m not following.”
“You and Michael.” He ripped the packet open and poured the contents on the table in a grainy pile. “Listening to the two of you, watching you together, I’m guessing your connection goes further than sharing a supernatural ability.”
“We haven’t crossed any professional lines.” Looking away from him, I felt the blush start beneath my skin. “It’s not like that.”
“It’s not like that yet, you mean. What about last night?”
I’d hoped I’d gotten away with last night.
“Thomas. Please.” I wanted to crawl under the table and hide. Anything not to participate in this conversation. “Nothing is going on.”
“Hey, you’re the one who tried to knock a security camera off the side of a building. That’s a lot of pent-up frustration.”
I’d wondered when he was going to bring that up. “You have nothing to worry about. No rules have been broken.”
Thomas traced a circle in the white granules on the table before looking up at me. “But you have feelings for him?”
“There are a lot of complications.”
Rules. Trust. Ava.
“I thought something like this might happen. That’s why I made sure Michael would adhere to the rules, both the Hourglass’s and mine.” Thomas sat back in his chair, assessing me the same way he’d evaluate a foundation before buying a building. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“I won’t,” I said. “My relationship with Michael is professional. We’ve never even come close—”
I stopped when Thomas pursed his lips.
“Well, except for that one time on the patio, we’ve never even come close to doing anything inappropriate.” I looked down at the sugar substitute, then absently brushed it to the floor, immediately feeling guilty for making a mess. “Even though he’s amazing, and thoughtful …”
My brother’s lips pursed so tightly they almost disappeared.
“Anyway, nothing is going on.” I dusted my hands and placed them on the table, staring Thomas dead in the eye. “So it doesn’t matter.”
“But see,” Thomas said, reaching out to take my hands in his, “I think it could matter. Be honest, Emerson. Does the way you feel about him have anything to do with why you’re helping him?”
“No. It doesn’t,” I protested when he gave me a knowing, superior, older-brother look. I tightened my hands around his for emphasis. “Liam Ballard has a family, a wife and a son. I could save him. After everything, you have to understand …”
“I know why it appeals to you. I worry about you, not physically, although that’s part of it.” His face contorted in pain, reflecting mine. “How can you go back and save the life of someone else’s parent without thinking about going back to save the lives of your own?”
