And that was part of the problem.

“I think we might all be overreacting,” said Emily. “He didn’t start anything—”

“Overreacting?” Tyler threw his fork down against his plate. “You saw what that ass**le did to me.”

“Tyler!” said their mother. “I won’t have that language at the table.”

Emily stared at him. “And what exactly happened again?”

He stared back at her for a beat. “I told you,” he said evenly. “He jumped me and Seth.”

“That’s it,” said her father. “I’m calling over there.”

“To Seth’s?” said Tyler.

“No. To the Merricks.”

Michael heard the garage phone ring while he was out back, playing catch with his youngest brother. He was tired from work and the batting cages, but he’d found the twins pinning Chris in the hallway, trying to spit into his mouth.

Michael never cared if Gabriel and Nick beat the crap out of each other, but he hated when they ganged up on Chris.

So now they were killing time out back until the twins found some other trouble to get into.

Someone else must have grabbed the phone, because the ringer cut off quickly. Michael hadn’t even bothered moving. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had called the house to talk to him.

“You’re so lucky,” said Chris, pelting the ball back to him.

It went wide. Michael stretched to reach it, and the ball smacked into his mitt. “Lucky?”

“Yeah. You get to go to work with Dad all day. I’m stuck here.”

Michael threw the ball back. This was the first summer Chris and the twins had been deemed old enough to stay home alone while their parents worked. “Do they pull that crap all day long?”

“Nah.” Chris caught the ball and shrugged. “It’s just boring.”

Boring. A code word for lonely. Michael remembered being too young to drive, before he knew about his abilities, when summertime seemed to stretch out with infinite possibilities—and ended up basically being three months of house arrest. He regretted not stopping at home to bring Chris along to the batting cages—but then he considered Emily and the putter and thanked god he hadn’t bothered. That was a story he didn’t need Chris dragging home to their parents.

“I’ll talk to Dad,” he said. “Maybe you can come along for some of the smaller jobs.”

“Really?” Chris flung the ball back. “That would be awesome! I’ll go every day! We could—”

“Easy.” Michael smiled. Chris had to be lonely if he was willing to spend his summer pushing a mower and laying mulch. “I said I’d ask.”

Then he wondered if something more than boredom was motivating his little brother. He remembered himself at Chris’s age, how his element had begun calling to him, how he’d wanted to be outside all the time. Neither Chris nor the twins had shown any inclinations yet—but maybe it was right around the corner.

The thought was both exciting and terrifying.

And the worst part was that a selfish little piece of Michael wished one of his brothers would turn out to be as powerful as he was—just so he didn’t have to carry this burden alone.

As soon as he had the thought, he squashed it.

The back door slid open and their mother stuck her head out. “Michael?”

Chris had flung the ball hard, so Michael didn’t look over. “Yeah?”

“Can you come in here for a moment?”

She was using her Serious Voice, and since she was pretty laid-back, it made Michael look over. “What’s up?”

“Your father and I want to talk to you.”

Five minutes later, Michael was fuming at the kitchen table. He wanted to put a fist right through the wood surface. “But I didn’t do anything. I didn’t even know she worked there.”

His father sat across the table, his expression implacable. “It doesn’t matter. You should have left. You know we’re in a precarious position here—”

“That’s not my fault!” Michael shoved his chair back from the table and half stood. “I didn’t want this stupid deal to begin with—”

“Keep your voice down.” Dad looked ready to come across the table himself. “I’m not having this argument with you again. This deal sets a precedent for your brothers. We have a family to consider—”

“You think I don’t know that?” God, didn’t his parents have any idea what his life was like? Couldn’t they see just how much he gave up, just because of their agreement?

His mother reached out and put a hand over his. Her voice was gentle, her eyes compassionate—a direct contradiction to his father’s. “We’re not angry with you.”

Michael jerked his hand away. His breathing felt too quick. Had Emily said he’d done something? Knowing that family, she’d probably said he stole her five dollars.

One place. That’s all he wanted. One place to call his own, to do something that had nothing to do with elements or deals. One place where he could forget all this.

And now it was gone.

His throat felt tight. “I hate this.”

“I don’t care if you hate it.” His father waited until Michael looked back at him. “You’re not to go near that family again. Do you understand me?”

“Me! What about them?” He was almost shouting now, and he didn’t care. “You know what Tyler did to—”