Chapter 19

“No plans yet. If you want—” Kris got fleetingly distracted. His husband eating a banana could do that. “Ah. Um, how tired are you?”

“Some, but not as much as—” Justin cut himself off mid-sentence, startled. “Kris—”

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know. I can feel—it’s like my aunts talking, or like the wind over there, the otherworld—like beingthere—” Justin dropped one hand to the countertop. His eyes were huge, spice-brown and earth-warm and shocked, framed by blue and black makeup. “Like being pulled back—”

He held up a hand. Fire traced spiderwebs under his skin: leaping, flaring, glowing from the inside. “It’s that but everywhere—”

“Justin—”