Good and fierce, both of them, like avenging angels.

The rain fell at a sharp angle, chilly drops stinging my face.

“I’m scared to get in,” I stammered.

Seth had cleared the S and half of the L from my windshield. His expression softened. He set down the jug and sponge and guided me away from the car. We stood close for a moment, his fingers around my arm.

“You okay?” he said.

I nodded.

He jerked his head toward the car. “One of Matt’s psycho fans?”

My chin fell to my chest. “Something like that.”

“Well, that ain’t you. That word. Not in a million fucking years.”

He opened the door. Nothing exploded, and my silly fear dissolved. He lifted the hood and scanned the engine. He knelt and stared under the car.

“Get in already,” he called. “Everything looks fine.”

I hovered uselessly for another minute and then I climbed behind the wheel. Thunder bowled across the sky. The rain reached a frantic tempo. I huddled in the shell of my car while Seth Sky strained over the windshield, furiously scrubbing off the letters UT.

Once the glass was clean, he splashed the remaining solution around my wipers, sluicing away white paint. The rain stripped the soapy film from my car. Seth gestured, turning an invisible key, and I started the car. It revved on smoothly. I let out a breath.

He gave me a thumbs-up. I grinned and gave him two. God, he was soaked to the skin.

My phone chimed and I fumbled for it. Shit, a text from Matt.

Where are you? You okay?

I tapped out a reply.

Sorry, tried to wait out the rain. Just gonna brave it. See you soon. Love you.

I looked up in time to see the Lincoln’s taillights glowing.

Seth pulled away, no wave, no good-bye.

I drove slowly to the condo, my wheels spinning up water and rain streaming down the road. In the parking lot, I took a few personal minutes—to think about Bethany, to let myself forgive her, and to worry for Seth. Against my better judgment, I texted Nate.

I’m worried about Seth. He’s here helping my sister. Doesn’t look good. Thin, pale, etc. Do you know what’s going on? Please don’t mention to Matt.

Nate’s reply came within minutes.

Haven’t seen Seth for a while, probably worn out from touring and always was lean. Great that he’s stepping up re: your sister. You look to Matt. I’ll check on Seth when possible. Together we’ll keep these boys in order. Aunt Ella favorably mentioned you to me. Quote, she’s quiet but has a great sense of style. See, she comes around.

I smiled at my phone.

Okay, Aunt Ella was actually complimenting Matt’s style, since he bought every piece of the outfit I wore in New Jersey, but no one needed to know that. And more important, Nate’s confident tone, which transmitted even through text, set me at ease.

Look to Matt, he said.

Yes, Matt was my troubled boy.

Seth was … Chrissy’s troubled boy, or Nate’s, or Ella and Rick’s. Definitely not mine.

The rain gave no sign of letting up, so I darted from the Civic to the condo, my work papers clutched to my chest. Bethany, I thought, you are petty and cruel, but you are also hurt and cornered by pain. We wronged you. We require your forgiveness.

I sent my little missive into the universe.

Matt met me in the lobby. He hugged me and took soggy items off my hands: the manuscripts, my purse.

“More potboilers?” He eyed the stacks of paper.

“Eyes off, you.” I slapped his butt as I followed him up the stairs. Like a curious animal, he was forever getting into the manuscripts I brought home. He laughed at me for printing them, said I was following in the footsteps of Pam the Luddite, and disparaged every hopeful’s novel.

“Aw, come on. This one actually looks cool. The Midnight—”

“You’re a big bully.” I laughed and bumped our door shut, prying the papers from him. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say these new young writers threaten you.”

“Threaten me? Ha.” He yanked me into his arms. I gave him a giddy smile. “And if they’re new and young, what does that make me? Old and old?”

Young and old, I thought, wrapping my arms around his neck. Like a child in a man’s body, sometimes. And I imagined he had sometimes seemed like a man when he was just a boy. Too sad and serious. I feathered kisses along his jaw.

“Mine,” I said.

“I can work with that.” He tugged at my wet hair so that I tipped back my head, and he kissed my mouth. “Poor thing, you really got stuck in that weather.”

“God, you have no idea…”

We made out for a full quarter-hour before I noticed the tent in the living room.

“Matt!” I snickered. He’d moved the coffee table and couch to accommodate the tent. It was new, or new to me—a tall gray and orange dome.

“Aha, she finally sees it.” He stalked over to the tent. Yes, it was definitely new. Matt wore his distinct “Do you like my new toy?” expression, and he circled the tent and folded his arms and studied it, signaling that I should also take a moment to admire it. I did.

“Wow … it’s nice.” I touched one of the poles. “So big. So…” In our living room.

“Mm. I got it at REI. Had to throw it together, make sure nothing was missing.” He frowned at the mesh-and-polyester palace. “I thought we might take it for a spin this evening, but not in this weather.”