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He crouches at the ruined pumpkin. Cold comes off him instead of heat. Under the cut-wood smell there's cedar, and something wilder I've never been able to name.

"What happened?" he says.

Lila answers first. "Strong wind."

His eyes cut to mine.

I bite the inside of my cheek.

He looks up. The sky is flat and blue. No clouds. Not one branch moving on the whole street.

"Strong wind," he agrees.

I blink. Lila blinks.

"You're both insane," I tell them.

He lifts the pumpkin like it weighs nothing. Then his attention moves over me. Hands. Face. Arms. The same head-to-toe inventory he ran yesterday at the shop, checking me for damage I can't see.

"Were you touching them?"

"No."

"Were you angry?"

"What?"

"When they moved. Were you angry."

Lila turns toward him. Fast.

His gaze flicks to her, then back to me.

"I was annoyed," I say.

"At what?"

I point at his bare chest. "You."

One eyebrow lifts a fraction. On anyone else it would be a laugh.

"You floated three pumpkins because you were annoyed at me."

"I didn't float anything."

His mouth twitches.

Lila steps between us like a referee. "This isn't funny."

"No," Gage says. The twitch dies. "It isn't."

I cross my arms. "Then explain it."

He looks at me.

I wait.

Nothing. Of course.