The light in the kitchen was on, and due to that, Gavin sat at the table with sunglasses on, head ducked. The natural light, what was left of it anyway, had been blocked out in a way that might have made Matthew laugh had it been any other day—with an opened pizza box shoved into the window frame.
Lyle leaned against the counter, his arms around Rafe who stood with him, Rafe’s back to Lyle’s front. Rafe looked completely, unmistakably lost, bereft of ideas. The mental light was on, but the psychic was not at home.
Vaughn also stood—stopped now in the middle of the room as if he’d stopped mid-pacing, but turned toward the door with a frown. Matthew could imagine it. Vaughn seemed liked a pacer. Even now, standing there trying to be still, Vaughn’s fingers twitched with unspent energy, his
