“You saw Spencer?”

“Yep.”

“And what did you say to him?”

“I said I don’t think about things as impossible,” I say. “I’ll get Connor to talk to me. I know it.”

Royce laughs again.

“Good luck,” he says.

“Thanks, Royce.”

“I’ve gotta go back and defend our country. You go and try to talk to my brother. That’s probably a harder job than mine.”

“Oh, I will.”

“Yeah, you’re gonna need some real good luck, Ember. I’m glad I’m not in your shoes.”

I watch as Royce struts toward a plane hangar as another fighter jet comes in to land with all the power and sound to blow me over again. Royce seems totally unfazed by it.

I sigh and turn away from the runway.

Yep, this whole thing with Connor is proving pretty damn hard. Even for me.

18

CONNOR

I’m late for work, which is very, very unusual for me and also damn unusual for this small town with not enough roads to fill a map. Somehow, it seems I have been caught in Crystal River’s one traffic jam of the week.

And so I walk into the station far later than I should.

And the first thing I see is Ember Mortensen standing there in the middle of my workplace.

That pesky pretty journalist who haunts my life.

She’s yet again surrounded by my firefighting colleagues with smiles on their dumb faces. They’re all happily drinking coffee together like one big family. My colleagues have their faces gorging on almond croissants.

My eyes narrow. I’m guessing Ember has gone off and collected coffee and croissants from The Oak coffee shop in town to bribe the men I work with.

Oh, she’s smart.

It seems the members of my team are easily susceptible to pastries.

“What is the meaning of this?” I demand loudly as I enter, commanding the attention of the room. Everyone stops and stares at me. They’re looking guilty as hell.

They should.

Their snouts have been caught taking treats from the witch.

Eric raises his coffee cup as a demonstration.

“Ember got us these,” he tells me.

So, she did, huh?

Yeah, she’s very good at her job – the bane of my existence.