There were so many things Sophie could've said in that moment. So many things she wanted to say.

But what she ended up saying was, "Aurahand?"

Keefe nodded, sitting up. "That's what this hideout is called."

"Oh."

Keefe hummed, patting the armchair next to him. "You ready, Foster?"

Sophie narrowed her eyes. How could he act so carefree and unbothered?

She forced herself to walk over to the chairs, sinking into the chair across from him. Okay, play it cool? She could do that.

Fine.

Keefe cleared his throat. "So . . . "

"So . . . "

"Can you . . . list your abilities for me?"

"What does this have to do with—" Oh. Keefe wanted to know because he wasn't sure if she knew that she was an Enhancer or not. Fitz has probably told him about her asking him to erase her memory of it.

"I know that I'm an Enhancer," she said, point-blank.

"That makes things easier," Keefe said.

Sophie nodded. Play it cool. She started pulling her gloves off. "Do you need to be Enhanced for this?" She asked.

Keefe gave her a funny look, momentarily caught off guard. "Why do you have gloves on?" He asked.

Sophie gave him a look that definitely topped his previous look in the funny looks category. "What do you mean?"

"Are those your silver nails?" He interrupted, his eyes dropping down to her hands as she tucked her gloves under her leg.

Sophie gripped the fabric of her dress with her fingers, resisting the urge to hide her hands due to all the attention they were receiving. "Yeah. Why?"

Keefe met her eyes, and she could see that he was actually confused, not just pretending to be. "But . . ."

"But?" Sophie waited for him to continue, but he just shook his head and trailed off.

"I guess we have a lot to sort through," was all he said. He reclined back in his chair, calm demeanor back up. Sophie could tell that he was still calculating things in his head, though.

"Do you need to be Enhanced?" She prompted again.

He nodded. "Yeah, actually. But later."

She opened her mouth, but he held up a finger. "Hang on there, Foster. It's time for an awesome Lord Hunkyhair lecture. You're in for a treat." He winked, but it didn't quite look like his heart was in it. At least, she thought it didn't. Maybe she was just imagining things.

"Do you remember me telling you about my father's whole head-and-heart-emotions theory before?" At her nod, he continued.

"I think that the Neverseen would've only had access to—only would have known how to access—your head emotions. Those emotions, like I said before, can easily be twisted and changed. It's easier to convince ourselves of something up here—" he tapped his temple—"than it is to convince ourselves of something different here." He touched his chest, right over his heart. "In fact, as far as I know, we can't convince ourselves of something different down here." His hand was still over his chest. "And I'm not sure yet if other people would be able to change our heart emotions—it would definitely take a ton of power and strength to pull off a feat that big. And even then, I'm not sure if your heart would forever stay like that.

"Have you ever felt anything recently since you got back that conflicts with something you think you should be feeling? Like, you know you should hate someone, but when you stand face-to-face with them, you don't really feel the hatred as strong as you think you should?" Sophie didn't reply, remaining silent. She was stunned to realize that she actually had. Just today, she'd thought that she would hate Dex—and even Kesler, Edaline, and Grady—so much that she would barely be able to restrain from hurling a knife at them.

But . . . she hadn't. She'd almost felt the opposite, too. But not quite. It was more like she'd felt nothing, which was unusual. It was almost as if two somethings had cancelled each other out.

Keefe plowed on. "I think that's because your head and your heart are warring against each other. Quite literally—you love the people and friends in your life with all your heart, and the Neverseen made you hate—the opposite of love—them with all your heart. I mean, think that you did. The hatred and negative emotions made you act impulsively, which often happens when we think something strongly. It clouds your judgement and your heart. And with something like hatred, which encompasses everything, coats everything in shades of red, and haunts every waking thought—and then after that, even your nightmares—making it all seem worse than it is . . . " He cleared his throat. "Well. It's understandable that you'd never even have the chance to stop and think about if what you were feeling was real or not."

Sophie's mind reeled after receiving all of Keefe's information. Keefe sat still, waiting for everything to sink in.

By the time it all started to settle, two main thoughts were running through Sophie's head. One: A lot of what Keefe had just said made . . . a lot of sense.

And two: Was Keefe not mad at her? Because he'd said things like it's understandable why you did what you did and you didn't even have a chance to think about if what you were feeling was real or not.

She wanted to ask him, but she couldn't bring herself to. She was scared of the answer.

Keefe must have felt at least a tiny hint of what she was feeling, and could guess the rest, because he stared her in the eyes as if challenging her to say something about it.

But she wouldn't. Because really, she didn't have a right to care about whether or not Keefe was mad at her when she had hurt him so much.

And when she couldn't even bring herself to feel what she should. When everything inside her was all twisted and wrong and drenched in months of brokenness, sore feelings, and hurt.

She had no right to care about whether or not Keefe was mad at her.

But he had every right to be mad at her.

Even so, all of that didn't keep a tiny part of her from dreading the answer. After all they'd been through—after all the times they'd promised that they wouldn't hate each other—

Sophie wouldn't be surprised if this time, Keefe did hate her. She wouldn't even have blamed him.

But . . . deep down, Sophie wasn't ready to know yet. She knew that she'd have to, one day. But today didn't have to be that day.

So she sighed, breaking the eye contact. Keefe sighed as well—but so inaudibly, she wasn't sure if she'd just imagined it.

She wiggled her fingers, bringing them back to focus. "So . . . I'm assuming you need to be Enhanced?"

Keefe nodded. "Yeah. I think it would be easiest. We could start to . . . sort through everything, and see what triggers the negative emotions."

Sophie wiped her palms on her skirt, hoping that they weren't as clammy as they felt.

She reached out, and after a second of hesitation, Keefe took hers hands in his, twining their fingers together.

Sophie watched Keefe close his eyes. She counted the seconds that passed.

When nothing happened after five, she was sure that her hands were sweating.

And by nothing, she meant nothing.

No reaction from Keefe.

No blue breezes sweeping through her mind.

Nothing.

As the seconds stretched further and further, Keefe's brow started to furrow.

Finally, he opened his eyes. Her wide ones met his confused ones.

"I don't feel anything," he whispered.

Sophie's stomach dropped. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," Keefe said slowly, "you're not Enhancing me."