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I stared at Dad, thrown by the implications.
“From what I can gather, anyone with the time gene can see rips now. Dune, Nate, and Ava were all alone in different public places, and yes, it’s happened more than once to each of them.”
“Do you think that means they can travel, too?” Michael asked, uncertainty drawing his voice taut.
“I don’t know.” Dad shrugged. “But without exotic matter, there’s no way to test it. I’m not interested in taking any risks.”
The sound of Thomas’s black boots hitting the floor made us all jump when he entered from the kitchen. His footsteps echoed as he stalked toward us, his anxiety preceding him.
“Thomas. I’m sorry for the mess and the trouble,” Dad said with regret. “I’ll be glad to cover anything your insurance won’t.”
“Absolutely not. You aren’t responsible. But I have a few questions about the ass—man who is.” His slicked-back Gomez Addams hairdo and drawn-on, pencil-thin mustache were at odds with the fierceness in his eyes.
“I’ll do my best to answer,” Dad said.
Thomas directed his words toward Dad but pegged Michael with an accusing stare. “I’d like to speak with you two outside.”
“Why can’t you just ask your questions here?” Em argued, her anger at being left out obvious.
“I can get any information I need from you later.” He gave Em a parental look when she made a sound of protest. “This is an adult conversation.”
Em’s spark of fury told me Thomas would pay for that comment later. I knew she was fighting hard to hold her tongue.
“Lead the way.” Dad gestured toward the doors with his head, and he and Michael followed Thomas outside.
Em watched them walk away. The second they were out of earshot, she let out a truly impressive stream of curse words and took out a couple of fall decorations with her fists, finally punching a plastic pumpkin to the ground and kicking it across the room.
Even though I was tempted, I knew laughing would prove deadly. “Are you picturing Thomas’s face on that pumpkin?”
“In my mind’s eye, his nose is bleeding.”
“At least he acknowledged you. My dad thinks I’m completely useless.”
“Don’t say that.” She pulled herself up to sit on the edge of the stage. “You aren’t useless.”
We were quiet for a few seconds, long enough for me to realize she was trying to figure out the best way to say something.
“Spill it, Em.” I grinned at her. “No need to sugarcoat.”
She uttered a sound of frustration. “Stop reading me.”
“You know I can’t help it.”
“Since it’s just you and me,”—she patted the stage beside her—“sit.”
I leaned back, putting all my weight on my arms before sliding carefully into a sitting position. It was rare we were alone together, and her nerves were skipping around like live electrical wires. “What is it?”
“I wish … you and Michael could … make up.”
“I didn’t know we were in a fight,” I lied, as smoothly as I could. “What’s it about? You?”
Her immediate blush confirmed it. “I’ve already capped my awkward quota for the year, and it’s only October.”
“I don’t hold back, Em. You and Mike both know where I stand when it comes to you.”
She stared down at her hands. “And you know where I stand.”
“Maybe we should arm wrestle for you,” I said, trying to make a joke. Failing.
