Spring Rain by Lizzy Ford

half-heartedly. She was
ready to go home after a day of espresso and Stu flirting with her,
but she understood the importance of keeping the customers happy.
She returned to the station and made two drinks quickly.
    “She tipped us a five,” Rosy whispered
between patrons. “You should start keeping your tips, Red. They’ll
pay for your college.”
    “Nah. It’s okay,” Morgan replied. “You guys
split it.” It wasn’t because she didn’t need the money – she
probably would eventually – but because she wanted to keep her
coworkers as happy as the customers. Happiness bred loyalty of
sorts or at least, they’d hopefully alert her if someone came
snooping around looking for her like several days ago. She had
learned a thing or two about being cautious from reading articles
online. Being social wasn’t really her thing, so sharing tips made
up for her lack of interest in those around her.
    “Thanks, Red!” Rosy called as Morgan tossed
her apron into a laundry bin beneath the counter. “See you
tomorrow!”
    Morgan waved and left, stepping into the
cool night. The lights of The Strip reached the suburbs, and the
sky above Vegas glowed. She’d gotten her wish of a winter without
snow. A native of northern New York, she was accustomed to the cold
and snow but had never cared for it, less so after going to the
unwelcoming boarding school in northern Idaho.
    On nights like this, when she felt lonely,
she had the urge to call her brother and tell him she was alive and
well. She had heard that Connor, a water witchling, had turned
Light. Without the soul stone and with the support of the Light
witchling community, he would have a better chance at life than her
parents had. She was proud of him and aware when he found out about
her, he was going to flip out.
    She smiled mischievously, unable to help her
satisfaction at knowing how shocked her sibling would be.
Competitive and equally hot-headed, Connor and she sparred over
everything when they had the chance.
    I miss them both.
    How she missed Beck, someone she didn’t know
for very long, as much as Connor baffled her. She didn’t know what
Beck would do if he found out she was alive. Flip out? Beat her
like her uncle might or scream at her the way her father did? She
didn’t know enough male witchlings to know what was normal for
them. Although …
    Beck was sweet and gentle and had always
treated her like she was precious. He hadn’t resembled any of the
men in her family. She allowed her mind to wander wistfully back to
the night he’d taken her somewhere he never took anyone, even Dawn:
to meet his extended family. She’d dared him to make a choice about
whether or not he was interested in her. He’d done so and then
upped the ante and challenged her to.
    I chose you,
Beck . Not that it mattered. She’d managed
to ruin things as usual, and even the best man in the world hadn’t
been able to make things right.
    The happy memory faded, and she trudged
home. Her evening routine was always the same: dinner, an hour of
television, a hot shower and then to bed.
    This night, Morgan sat and gazed at her
surroundings. She intended to leave tomorrow and was finding it
hard to want to walk away from the apartment that was hers. It had
been nice to have her own little home for once.
    With a sigh, she double checked her locks
then went to bed.
    Sometime later, in the middle of the night,
Morgan jerked awake. The sound of someone banging on the door of
her apartment made her sit up quickly, and she threw off the
blankets to grab the bat she had tucked just under the bed. Without
bothering to get dressed, she crept to the door. The pounding had
stopped, and her heart raced at the fear streaking through her of
being discovered by Dawn.
    “Fire!” the muffled cry was accompanied by
the shadow of someone running past her living room window.
    Morgan didn’t lower the bat until she peeked
through the peephole to confirm no one was outside. She opened the
door and leaned