Flash Fire by T.J. Klune

4

Nick was walking home, just blocks away from his street, with his attention on his phone, ignoring the people walking by him in the other direction. Footage from a news chopper flying high above the Westfield River showed a scene of chaos, the party barge half-sunken in the bay. Seth had been able to rescue everyone still trapped on the barge, carrying them all to safety before Harbor Patrol had shown up, late to respond to the call.

Nick’s thoughts were thrumming like a live wire, exposed and crackling. He needed to do more, figure out a way to better help Seth. The news reports were cautious when it came to Pyro Storm, as if they didn’t believe he was a hero, even though he’d saved countless people. Owen’s shadow still stretched long over the city. There had to be a way to get people on their side. “Branding,” Nick muttered to himself. “If Seth continues to be Pyro Storm, he needs to have brand recognition.” He opened the notepad app on his phone and began to jot down ideas. A Twitter account from Pyro Storm’s point of view? That’d be killer. Merch, definitely. Maybe even Instagram, which Jazz could run since her Insta was all black-and-white photos, and everyone knew black-and-white photos were tasteful as hell.

He wasn’t paying attention to where he was going, lost in thought about how he could get the tide to turn in Pyro Storm’s favor, all while grappling with what had happened at the Gray house. Trey’s and Aysha’s words rang in his ears.

Nick almost dropped his phone as he crashed into what felt like a solid wall. He stumbled back, ready—like a true citizen of Nova City—to snap at whoever had gotten in his way. The words died in his throat as he saw a man made purely of muscle standing in front of him in a dark suit, flecks of snow falling on his military crewcut.

“Nicholas Bell?” the man rumbled.

Nick eyed him warily. “Are you a fan wanting my autograph, or someone who wants to kidnap me? Either way, I’m going to need to reach into my bag to grab my pen for writing or stabbing.”

The man didn’t respond. He took a step toward the busy street, where a black limousine was parked against the curb. He opened one of the rear doors. “Get in.”

“Wow,” Nick said. “As much as I enjoy strange men asking me to get into their limos, I think I’m gonna pass. I’m sure whatever plot you have going on in that oversized head of yours would have been properly terrifying.” He was about to turn and walk away when the man grabbed his arm, grip tight. Nick glared up at him. “Dude. Not cool. I didn’t invite you to touch me. Seriously, back off before I literally stab your liver. I work out, okay?”

A low laugh came from the dark interior of the limo. Nick thought he recognized it, but he couldn’t be sure.

“Get in,” the man said, shoving him toward the open door.

“If you’re kidnapping me, you’re doing a shit job,” Nick said, raising his voice. “There are a couple dozen witnesses. You, sir! Yes, you. Memorize our faces because—”

“Mr. Bell,” a smooth voice came from inside the limo. “Enough with the theatrics. I’m not in the business of kidnapping. I only want a word. I’ll even drop you off at home, if you’d like.”

And oh, Nick knew that voice.

All the fight drained out of him. He didn’t struggle as the man shoved him inside the limo. Nick stumbled, falling to his knees. He squinted against the low light as the door slammed shut behind him. It was warm in here. Too warm.

The rear of the limo had a row of leather seats against the driver’s side, making an L-shape across the back. And sitting right in front of him was one of the few people Nick wished he’d never had to see again, for as long as he lived.

He was broad-shouldered, his suit black and expensive, his tie blue. One of his legs was crossed over the other, the tip of his dress shoe bouncing slowly up and down. His hair was thick and wavy with streaks of gray. He smiled, and in it, Nick could see echoes of his son, cold and devastatingly handsome. The chill he felt had nothing to do with the cold winter day just outside the limo.

“Hello, Nicholas,” Simon Burke said. “Have a seat. This won’t take long.”

Nick was about to tell him to go to hell when the limo pulled away from the curb, causing him to almost fall over again. He went to the back of the limo, trying to get as far away from Burke as possible. He settled on the seat, holding his backpack in his lap. “I have Mace,” he announced. “And I know how to use it.”

“Good to know,” Burke said, his smile only growing. “I think you’ll find it entirely unnecessary.”

“What do you want?”

“I was driving by and I thought, oh my, that looks just like my son’s former boyfriend. And I couldn’t let the opportunity pass me by. We haven’t had a chance to talk, you and I, and that simply won’t do. We’re tied together in ways you can’t even begin to understand.”

Nick scoffed. “Yeah, okay. Go, to hell, you weirdo.”

Burke chuckled. “Feisty, aren’t you? I bet your father has his hands full with you. How is he, by the way? I haven’t had an opportunity to catch up with my old friend in a while. I heard about his new position as the head of the Extraordinaries Division. Good for him.”

That stopped Nick cold. “‘Old friend’? What are you talking about? You’re not anyone’s friend, much less my dad’s.”

Burke laughed, and Nick struggled not to flinch. He sounded just like his son. “Didn’t you know? Why, I’m surprised he never told you, though I suppose recent … events would make him less likely to speak of it.” He clucked his tongue. “Your parents and I used to be friends, back in the day. In fact, you could say we were more than friends.”

And since Nick was Nick, he said, “You were in a three-way relationship with my parents? Oh my god, why would you tell me that?”

Burke squinted at him. “No, though it’s curious that’s where your mind went. I’m afraid my tastes don’t extend to the same sex.” His smile softened, and for a moment, he almost looked … human. It only increased the alarm bells ringing in Nick’s head. “I dated your mother for a time, while we were all at college. It wasn’t long, but it was good. A lovely woman, Jenny Warren. But like some things, it wasn’t meant to last. She met your father, and that was that. At the campus library, if I recall. She quite literally fell into his arms. Who was I to stand in their way, especially since I, too, came to care for Aaron? Their connection was undeniable, and they offered each other things I could not.”

Nick’s jaw ached as he ground his teeth together. Hearing his mother’s name coming from Simon Burke set him on edge. “What did you do?”

Burke looked taken aback as the limo rolled over a couple of potholes. “Pardon?”

“I never heard them talk about you,” Nick said coolly. “Not once. Not when she was alive, or after she died. You weren’t at the service we had for her. And the only time I heard about you from Dad was after your psycho son tried to kill me and my friends, so you must have done something.”

“Ah,” Burke said. “Curious. I’m afraid I don’t have a satisfactory answer for you, other than to say paths diverge. Perhaps that’s something you should talk to your father about. I’m sure it would be enlightening.”

Secrets. It always came back to secrets. They’d agreed to be honest with each other, but today had shown just how little Nick knew. Struggling to keep his expression blank, he looked out the window, recognizing the streets around them. They appeared to be heading toward his house, though Nick hadn’t given them an address. He wasn’t sure if he was relieved or not. “Uh-huh. Question: Do you know anybody on the Nobel Prize committee?”

Burke cocked his head. “I might. Why?”

Of course he did. What a pompous ass. “Good. Can you do me a favor and call them? I need you to let them know I’ve discovered that bullshit is genetic. I’m sure they’ll want to give me an award.”

The skin around Burke’s eyes tightened, but other than that, he gave no reaction. “I can see why my son liked you. Quite the mouth you’ve got. I’d be careful if I were you. You could find yourself in trouble if you say the wrong thing to the wrong person.”

“Riiiight,” Nick said. He saw familiar houses outside the window. His street. “This is far enough. You can let me out here. I’ll be sure to let Dad know you gave me a forcible ride and made vague threats, like you think we give two shits about anything you say.”

Burke pressed a button on a panel near his seat. The divider lowered slightly, revealing the back of the driver’s head. “Anthony,” Burke said, never looking away from Nick. “Our guest is ready to leave.”

The driver grunted, signaling as he pulled the limo to the curb a few houses down from Nick’s. Nick waited until the vehicle came to a stop before reaching for the handle, the overhead light turning on as soon as he pushed the door open. He was partway out of the limo when Burke spoke again. “Owen asks about you.”

Nick stopped.

He breathed in. He breathed out.

Then, through gritted teeth, he said, “What?”

“Owen,” Burke said softly. “I’m told he asks about you. He doesn’t speak much these days, especially not to me, but his medical team takes copious notes, and he’s under constant surveillance. It’s safer that way—for everyone. The room he’s in is quite bright. Lights from all directions. No shadows, you see. They can’t take the chance.”

“I’m sure the drugs you forced on him have worn off by now,” Nick snapped as he glared back over his shoulder.

Burke chuckled. “Forced? Is that what he told you?” He shook his head. “Always the victim, isn’t he, never able to accept responsibility for his own actions. And you, swallowing it hook, line, and sinker. The sheer hubris of it all is staggering.” He leaned forward, hands dangling between his legs. “Tell me, Mr. Bell. You knew him better than I ever could. Do you really think I could force him do to anything he didn’t want to do?”

“Yes,” Nick said. “Because I know I would do anything for my dad, even if it hurt me.”

And though he tried to cover it up, that answer caught Burke off guard. His expression stuttered, there and gone in a flash, but Nick saw it clear as day. “Yes, well, I’m afraid Owen and I don’t enjoy the relationship you and your father seem to have.” And then he smiled again, and Nick had to keep from shuddering. “Though I do wonder if said relationship would remain intact if you knew everything there was to know about your father.” He dropped his voice. “And your mother.”

Bait. It was bait, and oh, did Nick want to take it. He was almost convinced that Burke was completely full of shit, but what if he wasn’t? What if he was telling at least some version of the truth? If he’d known Nick’s mother, that would mean he’d have stories about her Nick had never heard before. It’d be new information, and goddammit, he’d hoard every single word like gold.

But that was what Burke wanted. And even if he was telling the truth, it’d come with a price, and Nick wasn’t about to play his games. This reeked of a setup. They hadn’t heard a thing from Simon Burke after McManus Bridge, and now, out of the blue, here he was, dangling tidbits he knew Nick would want?

Nope. He wasn’t going to dance, no matter what Burke said. And seriously, screw him for even bringing up Nick’s mom. He had no right to say her name, much less—

The plastic covering on the overhead light cracked. A small piece of the cover fell to the carpeted floor of the limousine.

“Well now,” Burke said quietly as he bent over and picked up the small chip. He held it in the palm of his gloved hand, bouncing it once, twice. “What have we here? I wonder how that happened?”

Nick was done with him. “As nice as this has been—and it’s been just lovely—I’m going to go home and pretend you don’t exist. Have a nice life. Oh, and one more thing? A piece of advice: maybe don’t pick up minors off the street. Not a good look, man.”

“He’s not the only one who’s protective of you, is he?”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, Nick,” Burke said. “Let’s not do that. You and I both know who I’m talking about.” He smiled that Owen smile again. Nick didn’t like it one bit. “Since we’re apparently in the position where we can offer each other advice, some for you.” He held up the piece of plastic between two pinched fingers. “There are things at play here much greater than you know. If you want to know the truth, my door is always open.” He pocketed the glass inside his coat. “Especially for one such as you.”

Nick glared at him. “Dude, you are so not my type. And I’m taken, thank you.”

“Yes,” Burke said. “Because that’s exactly what I was talking about.” He sobered slightly. “You remind me of your mother. I see her in you. She …” He shook his head. “Phone.”

“What?”

Burke held out his hand. “Give me your phone.”

“No. Get your own. You can afford it.”

“I’m not going to do anything untoward,” Burke said patiently. “Please, Mr. Bell.”

It was the please that got him. He didn’t know why. He should’ve told Burke to piss off, but instead, he found himself reaching into his pocket, pulling out his phone, and handing it over. Burke didn’t speak as he took it, fingers flying over the screen. Nick couldn’t see what he was doing, but before he could ask, Burke handed his phone back. “There. You now have my contact information. When you’re ready for the truth, you call me.”

Nick snatched his phone back, already climbing out of the car. “Not gonna happen, dude. You can go back to your tower and be creepy there. Don’t bother me again.” Since the last word was Nick’s greatest weapon, he slammed the door as hard as he could.

Except he didn’t get the last word.

Because the tinted rear window rolled down, and Simon Burke leaned forward. “Concentra, wasn’t it? Yes, Concentra.” He grinned. “Helps one concentrate, or so the slogan goes. One of the biggest breakthroughs of Burke Pharmaceuticals. I do hope you’re reaping the benefits. Anthony, we’re done.”

Nick stood on the sidewalk, watching the limo as it pulled back into traffic and moved down the street until it turned a corner, out of sight.

Nick had his key in the door lock when he got a text from Dad saying he was on his way home, which surprised him. Dad’s new job as the head of the Extraordinaries Division led to some odd hours, and Nick thought he’d have to stay at the harbor even if Pyro Storm had finished, to make sure everything was on the up-and-up.

Nick typed back a confirmation, saying he’d see him soon. And since he couldn’t not, he asked Dad to describe in great detail the heroics Pyro Storm had shown in rescuing those from the sinking barge. Dad sent back an emoji wearing sunglasses. So aggravating.

Frustrated, Nick unlocked the front door and stepped inside, closing it behind him before heading toward the kitchen. He slapped together a cheese-and-ketchup sandwich, intending to spread out his homework and get back to it. He made it three minutes before he set down his pencil and picked up his phone. Gnawing on his lip, he searched Concentra.

Pages upon pages. Benefits. Side effects. Trials. Tests. FDA approval to be sold and distributed. Medical journals filled with incomprehensible jargon. Concentra, made by a company called Arc Medical Group.

Arc Medical Group, a subsidiary of Burke Pharmaceuticals.

“It’s just a company,” Nick muttered. “They probably make a billion things. Nothing to worry about.”

He ran another search about Extraordinaries in Nova City to see if there’d been any hits he’d missed about any potential threats or new superheroes, something he’d done with increasing frequency over the past few months. Like most other people, he’d expected other Extraordinaries to appear after Pyro Storm and Shadow Star battled it out. Either there weren’t any, or they were choosing to remain hidden.

No sightings, no speculations, nothing. Even on the message boards dedicated to Extraordinaries across the world, there was no mention in the Nova City boards about anyone other than Pyro Storm and Shadow Star, with the occasional reference to Guardian, the superhero who had patrolled the streets of Nova City back in the early aughts before disappearing. No one knew who they’d been, not even their gender—only that they’d been telekinetic. The few pictures that had been taken of Guardian were blurry, only catching flashes of their cerulean-blue costume. They had either quit, moved on, or died. Nick didn’t know which was worse.

“If I was a hero, I’d never stop,” he whispered to himself, throwing his phone down on the kitchen table. He scrubbed his hands over his face. He was irritated, but he didn’t know at who. Seth, maybe, for saying he didn’t know if he wanted to be Pyro Storm anymore, but was that fair? Once, before all the crap had come out about who Seth and Owen were, Seth had told Nick how lonely it must be being an Extraordinary, how you couldn’t tell anyone about who you were or what you could do because they could become targets, or they might not understand and become scared. He’d practically given Nick a full confession, and Nick had responded by demanding they collaborate on a fic together.

Maybe he should clear his head by working on A Pleasure to Burn. He’d left Nash and Pyro Storm on a relatively sexy cliffhanger, and his readers would be demanding follow-through.

He was startled out of his fantasies of Pyro Storm whispering I’ve never tried to use the costume for something so dirty when the front door opened. “Kid, you here?” Dad called out.

“Kitchen,” Nick said, looking down at his homework spread out before him. What a crappy Valentine’s Day.

Nick listened as Dad went to the hall closet. He heard the familiar beeps of the gun safe Dad kept for his service weapon.

Dad appeared in the entryway, smiling tiredly as he glanced down at the textbooks and papers on the table. “You eat yet?”

Any appetite he might have had was long gone. His headache, a low simmer, pulsed behind his right eye. “We’ve got leftovers. I can nuke it in the microwave for you if you want.”

Dad shook his head as he took off his coat, hanging it on the back of one of the kitchen chairs. He rounded the table, resting a heavy hand on the back of Nick’s neck. He bent over and kissed the top of Nick’s head before going to the fridge. “How’s the homework coming?”

“Good. Fine. Almost done.” Not really, but there wasn’t anything due Monday. He had time.

Dad pulled Tupperware from the fridge. Lasagna from Mary Caplan. Mostly edible, but it had weird chunks of something in it that Nick never wanted to put in his mouth again. Mary was an awesome lady, but her cooking left something to be desired. Nick swiveled in his chair to watch Dad put the container in the microwave.

Dad turned, resting against the counter as the Tupperware spun in the microwave. He arched an eyebrow at his son. “So, more people know now.” He looked uncomfortable when he added, “And I know you have questions about … a lot of things. What Trey said. And I want you to know he has a point, as hard as it was for me to hear. Whatever Gibby’s and Jazz’s parents decide, we need to respect their decisions because—”

“Simon Burke,” Nick blurted.

Dad stiffened, eyes narrowing. He crossed his arms, the sleeves of his button-down straining against his biceps. “What about him?” He stared at Nick, and Nick didn’t dare look away for fear he’d miss any sign Dad might accidentally let slip.

“You knew him.” Saying those words was harder than Nick expected it to be. “Before.” He pushed through it, even though it hurt. “You and Mom—you knew him.”

Dad’s expression gave nothing away. “Who told you that?”

Not a denial. And that made Nick feel worse, because it meant Burke hadn’t necessarily been lying. It didn’t mean Dad had lied, not quite. More that he’d kept something from Nick. And maybe that hadn’t mattered before everything had come to light about Seth and Owen, but it sure as hell did now.

He could drop it. He could tell Dad that it didn’t matter, that he was just happy he was home. He’d feign being tired, not that it’d be too much of a stretch. He’d go upstairs and put it out of his mind.

But Burke’s voice was in his head, saying Jenny Warren, the words tinged with unmistakable affection.

Nick said, “He picked me up on the way home in his ridiculous car and said some stuff about you and Mom.”

Whatever reaction he’d expected—outrage, denial, something—wasn’t what he got. Dad’s face twisted as he stepped forward, gripping Nick’s chin, turning his head left and right before sliding his hands down Nick’s arms as if checking for injuries. “Did he touch you? Did he hurt you?”

Nick pulled himself out of Dad’s grip. “Chill. He didn’t do anything to me, aside from basically kidnapping me. Except he was a bad kidnapper because he brought me straight home. It only lasted a few minutes.”

That didn’t seem to make Dad feel better. He crouched next to Nick as the microwave beeped at them. They ignored it. “Every word. Kid, tell me everything he said.”

Nick hesitated before doing as he was told. He told Dad everything he could remember. He even thought about telling him about the broken light, but it was an ancillary detail.

By the time he’d finished, Dad was pale, eyes burning like hot coals. He’d rested one hand on Nick’s knee, gripping tightly. “Did you take your medication?”

“What?”

“Your meds,” Dad said. “When was the last time you took—”

“This morning,” Nick said slowly. “Remember? You gave it to me at breakfast, just like always. We already talked about this at Seth’s house.” Weird. Why the hell would he bring that up now, of all things? Unless … “Did you know? That Concentra came from Burke Pharmaceuticals?”

No reaction, face stony. “They make everything, kid. I’m not surprised. But of course you took your pill. It must have slipped my mind. It’s been a long day.” He squeezed Nick’s knee. “Yeah. We knew him. Your mother, she—” He closed his eyes. “I wouldn’t call it dating. At least, that’s what she said.”

“Oh my god,” Nick whispered. “They were friends with benefits?”

Dad’s eyes flashed open. “Get your mind out of the gutter, Nicky. They went out a few times. It never turned into anything serious. By the time I met your mother, it was already on its last leg. And even though my opinion of Burke isn’t the greatest, it has nothing to do with how he treated your mother. He didn’t hurt her, didn’t make her do anything she didn’t want to do, so don’t go down that road.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Nick asked. “After everything that happened?”

“This was years before you were even born. Your mom and I, we loved each other a lot. We got so wrapped up in each other those first couple of years, we sort of blocked anything else out. Burke just … drifted away. We weren’t as good of friends as we could’ve been. He didn’t seem to mind, at least not that we knew. He had his own thing going on, and then he met the woman who became his wife and moved on from us. It happens, okay? People change.”

“Paths diverge,” Nick said. Just as Burke had said.

Dad nodded. “That doesn’t mean it’s going to happen to you and Seth, or Jazz and Gibby. But even if it does, it’s okay. What you want now might not be what you want in the future.”

That alarmed Nick more than he expected. “I’m always going to want what I have now. Did their parents say something to you? I swear to god, if they try and—”

“Make decisions they feel are best for their kids?” Dad said. “Because if they do, you’ll respect whatever choice they make. It’s not up to you, Nicky. They have a right to protect Gibby and Jazz however they see fit.”

“I know,” Nick muttered. “But Gibby and Jazz are old enough to make up their own minds. We’re practically adults.”

“Oh boy,” Dad said. “Let’s talk about the practically part of that sentence.”

“Did she love him?”

Dad was fluent in Nick, so he wasn’t caught off guard by the conversational whiplash. “No, kid. Not in the way you’re thinking. She cared about him. I did, too, but he wanted different things.”

Nick nodded sagely. “I asked him if he was in a polyamorous relationship with you and Mom.”

Dad gaped at him.

Seriously, what a drama queen. He was acting like that wasn’t a plausible line of thinking. “What? We’re very progressive in this household.”

Dad managed to recover. “Really. That’s what you think is progressive.”

“Hey, I don’t judge. For all I know, you and Mom were freaks in college.” He grimaced. “I take that back; I don’t want to know if you were. I’m pure and innocent and I can’t have those images in my head.”

“Uh-huh. I hate to break it to you, kid, but no one in our neighborhood will ever think you’re pure and innocent again.”

“You monster. You’re lucky no one called child protective services on you.”

“They can have you,” Dad said. “No refunds.”

“Bullshit,” Nick growled. “You’d miss me too much. You need me to take care of you.”

Dad softened as he stood, taking a step back. “Yeah, I suppose I do, huh?”

“You’re not getting any younger,” Nick reminded him. “You gotta watch your cholesterol levels. Don’t make me call your doctor again.”

“I still can’t believe you did that,” Dad muttered. “Can you make me a promise?”

And because he loved his father, Nick said, “Anything.”

Dad looked down at him for a moment before nodding slowly. “Stay away from Simon Burke, okay? I don’t want you having anything to do with him.”

Nick said, “He picked me up. Why would I—”

“Promise me,” Dad said. “This is important, kid. Given all that’s happened between you and Seth and Owen, we don’t know what Burke wants. And until we find out, I want you to be careful. Can you do that for me?”

Nick hesitated, warming slightly at Dad’s use of the word we. It meant they were a team. Of course he wouldn’t have anything to do with Simon Burke. Why would he? Owen had made terrible choices, but how much of it was because of his father?

“What happened between you?” he asked finally. “What did he do that—”

Dad turned toward the microwave, but not before Nick saw his jaw set. “It’s in the past, Nicky. Do what I’m asking, okay? And keep this between us. Don’t tell the others about Burke or what he said. I don’t want it being blown out of proportion.”

“Okay,” Nick said quietly, knowing the conversation was over. But he still had to try. “You’d tell me if something was wrong, right?”

“I would. Let’s eat. We’ll choke down the lasagna together in front of the TV. Sound good?”

It did.

It wouldn’t be until later—much later, when everything had changed—that Nick would realize how neatly his father had deflected.

Dad went to bed earlier than usual after telling Nick not to stay up too late. Nick followed shortly after, trudging up the stairs to his room. He thought about trying to work on a new chapter of his fic, but when he sat down at his desk and opened his laptop, he found himself researching the best ways to launch a new brand. He wasn’t surprised when he ended up on Cosmo again, reading an article about TEN CRITICAL SUCCESS FACTORS IN LAUNCHING A NEW BRAND IDENTITY FOR BUSINESSWOMEN. Damn his luck for being born male. He’d make an awesome businesswoman.

He’d only made it partially through the list, when he heard a tap at his bedroom window.

His window on the second floor.

He looked over slowly, heart rabbiting in his chest. The window was dark. Snow fell past it, catching the low light from the streetlamps below. A bird, he told himself. It was just a bird. Or flecks of ice. He turned back toward his laptop, trying to calm himself. Screw Simon Burke for messing with his head. He was making Nick paranoid.

The tapping came again.

Nick reached into his backpack, grimacing as his fingers slid through the remains of an exploded lip balm before finding what he was looking for, fingers closing around a cold metal canister. He hadn’t yet had an opportunity to use the Mace, but if there was a villain outside his window, Nick was going to make them wish they’d never been born. And then he’d scream for his dad to save him. Solid plan.

He pressed himself against the wall with the window, inching over slowly. He stopped next to the window, just out of sight. He brought the Mace up, kissed the top of the canister, and said, “It’s time to take out the trash.”

Nick spun in front of the window, jerking it open with one hand, cold air washing over him as he thrust the Mace outside.

Nothing. There was no one there.

He leaned his head out the window, looking down at the street below. The sidewalk in front of his house was empty. He shivered as snow fell onto his hair.

“Yeah,” a voice said from above him. “I knew it’d be a good idea to not stay in front of the window.”

Nick yelped as he bumped his head hard against the windowsill. Frowning, he leaned back out the window, twisting at an awkward angle to look up. There, sitting on the edge of the roof, was a sight that set Nick’s heart racing again.

Pyro Storm.

Except his helmet was removed, and it was Seth smiling down at him, cape fluttering around him, his feet dangling as he kicked them out.

“Texting is a thing,” Nick told him. “You could have warned me you were coming over, so I didn’t think I was about to be ambushed.”

Seth laughed, a sound Nick dared anyone to try to say wasn’t the best thing in the world. Nick gasped when Seth pushed himself off the roof, floating down until he was in front of him, the tips of his ears and nose pink from the cold. No matter what he’d seen in the last few months, Nick still wasn’t used to the sight of Seth Gray being able to fly. He’d asked Seth repeatedly if he could carry him and fly around the city, to which Seth reminded him he didn’t have superstrength, and Nick was heavier than he looked. That had led to an argument where Nick declared it wasn’t his fault he liked shredded cheese on most things, to which Seth replied he didn’t mean it like that, and then they’d somehow started making out and things had gotten a little hazy after that.

Still. A sight to see.

“At least you’re prepared,” Seth said, a few feet away from the window.

Nick glanced down at the Mace before shrugging. “Gotta be. It just so happens the hero of Nova City is my boo, and I—”

Seth groaned. “I told you not to call me that.”

“Yeah, dude, not gonna happen. That’s what you are. My boo. My superpowered love button. My—”

Seth said, “I got you a Valentine’s Day present as a way of saying sorry we didn’t make it to dinner.”

Nick, knowing he was being distracted, said, “What? Give it to me now. Please.”

Seth flew a little closer. Nick could feel the heat radiating off him. The snow hissed as it melted against Seth’s costume, rivulets of water falling down his broad shoulders and strong arms and—

“I’ve had wet dreams that started just like this,” Nick whispered.

Seth dropped a couple of feet.

“Um,” Nick said. “Pretend I didn’t say that.”

“I don’t know if I can,” Seth said faintly as he rose back up.

“Present,” Nick demanded, holding out his hand and wiggling his fingers.

Seth rolled his eyes but did as he was asked. He reached out with a gloved hand, setting a plastic package against Nick’s palm. He looked down. Mango-flavored Skwinkles Salsagheti.

Nick—in a choked voice that he’d deny forever and ever—said, “This is the nicest thing anyone has ever gotten me. Thank you.” He looked up at Seth, narrowing his eyes. “Are you trying to buy me off for leaving me behind to answer invasive questions by accountant hippies and rich parents?”

Seth grinned at him. “Maybe. Is it working?”

“Barely,” Nick said. “And I’m not happy about how easy I apparently am, but that’s another matter entirely.” He batted his eyelashes. “Perhaps you’d like to come inside and see just how easy I am.”

Seth stared at him. “Wow. That was … something.”

Nick groaned. “It sounded sexier in my head. Let me try again. Hold on.” He stood upright, puffing out his chest, hands on his hips, the candy wrapper crinkling. “Hey. Nice to see you. Let’s discuss making out for the next thirty minutes and see where that—oof.”

His breath was knocked from his chest as Seth flew through the window, tackling him and knocking him off his feet. He braced himself for the hard impact on the floor but opened his eyes when no jarring crash came. Seth had wrapped his arms around him, holding them both a foot off the floor. They hung suspended for a moment before Seth lowered them down gently, settling on top of Nick, cape falling over them like a blanket.

“Hi,” he whispered, brushing his nose against Nick’s.

“Hi,” Nick whispered back. “Not that I don’t appreciate the late-night visit, but what’re you doing here? Dad said you guys finished hours ago.”

Seth shrugged, a thick curl hanging on his forehead. “I wanted to see you. I didn’t like how our plans got ruined on top of everything else.”

“It’s okay,” Nick said, letting him off the hook. “I kinda screwed up too, so let’s just call it a wash.”

Seth’s smile faded. “It’s not okay. I don’t want you thinking I don’t need your help. It’s not like that at all.”

“I didn’t think that.” He sighed when Seth arched an eyebrow. “Okay, maybe a little bit, but you’re right. I can’t do what you can.”

Seth rolled off him, lying on his back next to Nick, their shoulders pressed together. He turned his head just as Nick did, their faces only inches apart. “I know. But I couldn’t stop thinking about it. And then I had to go before we could work through it.”

“That seems to be happening a lot lately,” Nick admitted. Seth winced, and so Nick added quickly, “I know you have an important job to do. People need Pyro Storm; I get it. I’m not mad about that.” And it was mostly the truth, though it was still wrapped up in that complicated knot in Nick’s chest, tangled with love and jealousy and a thousand different things he didn’t always understand.

“It’s not fair,” Seth muttered, taking Nick’s hand in his own. Seth’s glove was slightly wet from the snow, but it was warm. “You know I’d rather be with you than be anywhere else.”

He did, but it helped to hear it said out loud. “I know,” Nick said, squeezing Seth’s hand.

Seth turned his head to look up at the ceiling. He raised his free hand above them and wiggled his fingers. Nick’s eyes widened when a small bloom of fire appeared. Seth waved his hand slowly from side to side. The fire followed, elongating as it took the shape of a miniature comet. The heat of it was comforting, familiar. He closed his fist and the fire snuffed out, leaving behind a wisp of smoke and the subtle scent of burning air. He dropped his hand back to the floor. “Things are changing, Nicky. More people know now, but I can deal with that. It’s everything else that scares the crap out of me. Pretty soon, we’re going to start applying for college. I don’t know where we’ll all end up.”

Alarmed, Nick said, “You still want to go to the same school, right? I mean, it’s totally cool if you want to do something else.” It wasn’t cool at all. He should’ve texted Jazz to see how she was holding up.

“Yeah,” Seth said. “You and me, okay?” He looked over at Nick again and kissed the tip of his nose. It tickled, and Nick squinted against it. “But I have to think about what I want too. Am I going to be doing this when I’m in my twenties? My thirties? Someone is always going to need saving. And who am I to turn my back on them, you know?”

“You’re not alone,” Nick said, leaning his head against Seth’s shoulder. “We’ve all got your back.”

Seth exhaled through his nose. “I know, but sometimes I want to be selfish. What about me? I don’t know what my future is supposed to look like. There are days when I imagine I’m not Pyro Storm anymore. Where I get to do stupid things before I grow up and get a job and pay bills. Normal stuff. I want to be able to go out with you and our friends for Valentine’s Day and not have to worry about being called away. Is that fair?”

“You’re allowed to want things.” Nick hesitated. “Being Pyro Storm isn’t all of you, but it’s a big part. Could you really let that go?”

“I don’t know,” Seth muttered. He sounded frustrated. “I won’t know unless I try. That terrifies me. Because if I did try, there’ll come a moment where someone will need Pyro Storm, and I’ll have to decide whether or not to do anything about it.” He rubbed his gloved hand over his face. “I don’t know if I can choose to ignore someone who needs help. What kind of a person would that make me?”

“Human,” Nick said. “It makes you human.”

Seth laughed, though there was no humor in it. “But I can do things most people can’t, whether or not it was because of the train accident or …” He trailed off, looking off into nothing.

Dangerous ground, this. Seth rarely talked about the deaths of his parents. He’d been too young to remember most of it, and he’d been one of the only survivors.

“Or?” Nick asked, unsure if he should be doing so.

Seth didn’t speak for a long time. Finally, he said, “I wonder, sometimes. If I got this from them. My powers. If it was genetic. My aunt and uncle said they never saw my parents do anything like I can, but maybe they kept it secret. I did for a long time.”

“Do you remember them?” Nick whispered.

Seth turned to look at him again, studying him—searching for what, Nick didn’t know. “Bits and pieces,” he whispered back. “Little things. Dad liked to sing. He had a good voice. Not the best, but good enough. And Mom, she—” He closed his eyes. “I remember her laughing. It was a big sound. She didn’t try and hide it or cover it up. When she laughed, it was with her whole body. There’s other stuff I can think of, but that’s what I remember most.” He sighed. “I don’t remember what they sounded like when they spoke.”

Here, in the safety of his room, while snow fell just outside the open window, Nick said, “That’s one of the things that scares me most. That I’ll forget what she sounds like.”

Seth looked at him. “Your mom?”

Nick nodded. His eyes were starting to burn, but Seth would never make fun of him for crying, so he didn’t try to shove it down. “It’s only been a few years, and there are days when I think I’m okay, but then I panic because I can’t remember what she sounded like when she was happy or sad or angry.”

“What do you do?”

Nick sniffled as he shrugged awkwardly. “Sometimes I spiral until I can barely breathe. Other times, I feel stupid about it. I guess it depends on the day and how my brain is. In case you didn’t know, I’m a little messed-up in the head.”

“I like your head,” Seth said seriously, and Nick grinned at him. “And you’re not messed-up. You’re just wired differently, like I’m wired differently.”

Nick groaned. “If only ADHD could be a superpower.”

“It is. You have the power to have a billion thoughts in the space of a few seconds. That’s pretty cool, if you ask me—even if you also say those billion thoughts out loud. But that’s okay, because you usually know what you’re saying.”

And because Nick was a sucker for reassuring compliments, he gave in kind. “I’m going to shove my tongue down your throat in a minute. Use the time I’m giving you to prepare yourself.”

Seth laughed loudly, covering his mouth to try to keep as quiet as possible. Nick laughed along with him. Even though this Valentine’s Day hadn’t gone according to plan, it was ending on a good note. They’d be all right, Simon Burke and Rebecca Firestone be damned. In this moment, nothing else mattered, because Seth Gray was laughing like he didn’t have a care in the world, and Nick had caused that. He’d have time to tell Seth about Burke later. He didn’t want to ruin this, not for anything in the world.

He watched as Seth started hiccupping into his hand. Nick reached out and pulled Seth toward him and kissed him with everything he had. Seth was smiling against his mouth, and though he didn’t shove his tongue down his throat (not for lack of trying), it was still good.

So good, in fact, that he rolled on top of Seth as they kissed, sliding his hands up Seth’s chest to his arms, grinding his hips down. Seth groaned, and Nick’s blood was rushing south. Seth seemed to be having the same problem. Seth wasn’t Boner Boy, and Nick wasn’t the rough-and-tumble oil worker, but Nick would be damned if he wasn’t going to one day get that superqueero penis.

But maybe not today, because Seth yawned against Nick. He sat up, his butt on Seth’s hips. He wiggled a little, causing Seth to gasp and grip his thighs, but he took it no further. Not only was Dad just down the hall, but Nick could see how tired Seth was. He needed sleep.

Nick stood above Seth, holding out his hand. “Come on. Bedtime. I’ll set my alarm early so you have time to get home before Dad wakes up.”

“Sleepover?” Seth asked, taking his hand and allowing him to be pulled up off the floor.

“Sleepover,” Nick agreed. “I’ll get you some sweats to sleep in. Sucks you won’t be able to brush your teeth. We don’t have a spare, and I like you, dude, but not enough to let you use mine. That’s disgusting, so don’t even ask.”

“You’re all heart, Nicky.”

“Damn right I am.”

They got ready for bed, talking about nothing of any real importance, which Nick appreciated. Too much had happened in such a short time, and he still needed to process all of it. By the time Nick returned from the bathroom, Seth was already in bed, pulling back the comforter in invitation. Nick gladly accepted, curling against Seth as he pulled the comforter up and over their heads, cocooning them in darkness.

And then it was like they were kids again, two kids who didn’t have anyone but each other, whispering in the dark about how they would always be friends, no matter what. Pushing it further would be complicated. Sex was complicated, in all its forms. But this was Seth. This was his best friend. This was the person he thought of before he fell asleep and right when he woke up. This was the guy Nick would do anything for.

“I’ll fix this,” Nick said quietly when Seth slept. “I’ll help make things easier for you. Promise. I’ve got an idea, and it’ll all work out. You’ll see. Things will stay the same, no matter what.”

It was dark when he woke. He blinked blearily and heard Seth snoring. He turned his head, wondering what had awoken him. The clock on his nightstand showed it was just after four.

“Yeah,” a voice said. “Tracker was right. He’s here. You want me to send him home?”

Dad was standing in the open doorway, phone pressed against his ear.

Uh-oh.

Nick dropped his head quickly to the pillow, squeezing his eyes shut. Bob or Martha must have seen Seth wasn’t home. Dammit. Dad was going to be pissed. Maybe he’d just let them be if he thought Nick was sleeping.

“Both zonked out. Must have tired Seth out more than we thought. All right. Yeah, talk soon.”

The phone beeped.

The floor creaked as Dad stepped inside the room, muttering under his breath as he stepped over the clothes strewn about. Nick wanted to tell him it wasn’t what it looked like, but decided pretending to sleep was the way to go.

He felt Dad standing over them.

He snored loudly to sell the ruse.

“Yeah, okay,” Dad said, keeping his voice low. “Because that was believable.”

Nick cracked open one eye. “Dammit.”

“Explanation.”

“We didn’t do anything,” Nick said, looking up at his father. “Just … we needed to talk, and he came over and brought me Skwinkles Salsagheti for Valentine’s Day, even though I didn’t get him anything and who was I to turn him away, back out into the cold? No one, that’s who.”

“Do I need to make you dental dams?”

“Why are you like this?” Nick hissed at him.

Dad’s eyes glittered in the dark. “Because your aggravation gives me life, kid. Ask, okay? The Grays were worried. I trust you, Nicky, but you and Seth still gotta think. We need to know where you are.”

“Yeah. Sorry. We were talking and then fell asleep.”

Dad shook his head. “It’s still early. Go back to sleep. And then you and Seth can come down to breakfast. I’ll be waiting.”

He turned to walk out of the room but stopped after only a couple of steps. Nick followed his gaze to the photograph on the desk. Grief, Nick knew, could stay hidden for weeks and months. Just when you thought it was over, it sank its teeth back into you unexpectedly.

Shoulders hunched, Dad left the room without another word, closing the door behind him.