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he’d retreated deep inside himself and pulled the door shut behind him. Times like this I considered flashing him to see if I could replace that look with something else. Desperation was an ugly thing.
    “Okay,” I said quietly. With my eyes, I begged him for more. Give me something, Asher. Something to tell me you’re still in there and that you care.
    He lifted his menu, but he might as well have tossed the Grand Canyon between us. He’d been avoiding me for weeks, maneuvering things so he never had to be alone with me. I couldn’t go on like this much longer. We had to figure things out, because we couldn’t fix what had broken if he wouldn’t talk to me.
    Out loud, I asked, “Do you think maybe tonight we could—”
    “There’s Lucy,” he interrupted me. “Do you know what you want to order?”
    Relief flickered across his face when Lucy pressed into the booth beside me, and I guessed he’d heard my thoughts. My bottom lip trembled, and I bit down on it. I busied myself with my coffee, emptying three sugars and four creamers into the ceramic mug. Once upon a time, I’d had to shut off my emotions to survive. That had ended when I’d left the nightmare of my stepfather’s abuse and my mother’s neglect behind. My new family and Asher had changed me, melting the glacier inside me. Wouldn’t it be easier to shut down again? a traitor voice whispered. Isn’t that what Asher is doing? The urge to close ranks and protect myself tempted me, but I’d worked so hard to change.
    A waitress stopped at our table, and we ordered lunch. Our food arrived minutes later, and we ate with little enthusiasm, too worn out to bother with conversation. I’d gone for a salad, hoping for the best, but the thick coating of ranch dressing smeared across the limp lettuce in a way that canceled out my appetite. It had been weeks since we’d stopped long enough to eat a good meal. I missed macaroni and cheese, the good kind that oozed strings of cheese from each bite. And mochas with clouds of whipped cream sprinkled with cinnamon. And pizza smothered in toppings. My imagination ran until I sipped my doctored coffee and almost spat it out. I loved coffee, and even I couldn’t keep this swill down.
    Asher made a noise. One corner of his full lips tilted in the hint of a smile. I melted into a little puddle under the table. I’d missed his smiles. Lucy glanced over curiously, guessing that he had read my mind.
    “Food fantasies,” he told my sister with a shake of his head. “Shameless ones.”
    I flushed to the tips of my burning ears. “Shut up. Like you don’t fantasize about food, too. I just have better taste than to imagine crumpets and tea.”
    He threw a fry at me. “Hey! I would never have shared my favorites if I’d thought you’d use them against me.”
    I ate his fry. “Your favorites are such sissy snacks. When I asked you what foods you missed, I thought they would be macho things like steak and potatoes.”
    I scowled at him, but truthfully, it felt good to be teased, even if it was about food.
    Despite looking my age, Asher hadn’t been eighteen for many years. In the late 1800s, the Protectors had tired of the Healers using them like slaves, and they’d fought back. When the war erupted, Asher had stepped into the battle, along with the other members of his family. He’d killed a Healer to defend his sister and accidentally stumbled onto what he thought of as a curse: Protectors could become immortal if they killed a female Healer and stole her energy. Immortality cost him his senses of taste, touch, and smell, a fate that all immortal Protectors shared and most hated.
    He’d lived what he called an empty life, sleepwalking through the years until he met me. Our bond had changed him. His senses had begun to return, along with his mortality. For the first time in decades, he could taste foods again, could smell the sea air, and he’d felt my touch. Of course, the return of his senses meant that