Nick looked at him. For an instant, he felt like six-year-old Nicky, wanting to cry and hide and let his brother fix everything. What had Adam said last night? You admire him. I can hear it in your voice.
He was right. Gabriel had always been the fighter. The defender. Nick could see it now: if he told his twin something was wrong, Gabriel would be on his feet, ready to knock heads.
It made Nick feel immeasurably weak sometimes. Like when Gabriel was sneaking around, rescuing people from burning buildings. Or like last night, when Tyler had gone after Quinn.
Gabriel wouldn’t have picked her up and driven her home.
Gabriel would have tracked down Tyler and beaten the shit out of him.
When Nick thought about telling Gabriel the truth about himself, it felt like admitting one more way he didn’t live up to his identical twin brother.
His appetite vanished. He flung his pizza down and shoved the tray away. “Yeah. Fine. You want that? I’m not hungry.”
Before Gabriel could stop him, he shouldered his bag and walked away from the table.
“Hey!” Gabriel called.
Nick called back over his shoulder. “I’ll see you at home later.”
Almost immediately, his cell phone chimed. Nick grabbed it from his pocket, hoping for a message from Adam.
Michael had sent him a message.
Can you help with a job tonight? Should be done by 7. Too much for me + C.
C was Chris. Nick sighed. He was already behind with school, but he’d be able to study at Adam’s, right? Michael wouldn’t ask if he didn’t need the help.
The exhaustion that had been clinging to Nick’s back all day doubled in weight. For an instant, he was tempted to say no.
But Michael expected a yes. And Nick always did what his brothers expected.
Nick slid his fingers along the face of the phone.
Sure. I’ll be there.
Quinn spent all day dodging Becca, but her best friend—
ahem, former best friend—caught up to her next to her locker after last period.
Quinn didn’t even look at her. Like she needed to see Becca’s straight, shiny dark hair, her perfect little figure, or Chris Merrick’s arm slung over her shoulder.
Well, Chris wasn’t really there, but he might as well have been.
“I can’t talk,” said Quinn. “I need to catch the bus.”
Becca was studying her. Quinn could feel it. But her voice was easy, casual. “Want a ride?”
“Nah.”
“You want to ride the bus? What are you pissed at me about now?”
Quinn slammed her locker shut, making the metal crash echo down the hallway. She flung her trig textbook into her backpack. This was so like Becca. Acting like Quinn was such a drama queen, so let’s laugh off all her problems and treat her like everything is trivial.
And of course all this slamming and flinging was probably driving that point home.
Quinn picked up her bag and started walking.
“Come on,” said Becca, catching up with her. “Would you stop wasting time and tell me what’s wrong?”
“Nothing is wrong.”
“I thought you were all into doing the double-date thing with Nick and Chris. What happened?”
Nick is g*y and you kept secrets.
“Forget it,” said Quinn. “Just go back to your perfect life.”
Becca stopped short. Quinn kept walking, but Becca called after her. “Oh, my perfect life? You mean with my father showing up out of nowhere? Or having the entire school know exactly what I did with Drew McKay? Or—”
Quinn whirled. “Shut up.” The worst part was that she did feel badly about all of those things. She marched back to Becca.
“If you’re going to start listing your life difficulties, why don’t you start with the truth?”
Now Becca looked exasperated. “Damn it, Quinn, I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”
“I’m talking about how I learned all your secrets from the Last Airbender last night.”
Becca looked almost incredulous. “A cartoon? What? You—
wait—you—”
Quinn watched sudden realization dawn on Becca’s face.
“Nick told you,” Becca whispered.
“No shit he told me. Why didn’t you tell me is what I want to know.”
When Becca didn’t have anything to say to that, Quinn started walking again.
Becca caught up to her in a hurry. Her voice was a whispered rush of words, hidden beneath the bustle in the hallway.
“Quinn, I couldn’t tell you. Did he tell you everything? About how they’re marked for death? About how the Guides will come for them—”
“He told me all that.”
“Did he tell you about my father? How both Hunter and I aren’t supposed to exist, either?”
“Yes.”
“Did he—”
Quinn shoved her away. “He told me all of it, Becca!” She glared at her, feeling fury pour out of her eyes. “Why didn’t you?”
“I . . . couldn’t.”
I couldn’t.
Quinn could hear the subtext.
Because I couldn’t trust you.
And suddenly, that pinpointed the real problem here.
Becca hadn’t trusted her with this secret. Maybe she thought Quinn was too volatile, maybe she didn’t think Quinn was worthy of knowing. Maybe Becca was genuinely worried and she didn’t want to put Quinn in danger—but that felt like a load of bullshit since her friend hadn’t stopped her from dating Nick.
Quinn felt like such an idiot.
“He told me all about it,” Quinn said, hating that her throat felt thick. “All of it, Bex.”
Then she stood there waiting for Becca to re-categorize the last few weeks, the same way Quinn had done when she’d first learned everything from Nick.
The time Becca had totaled her car on the bridge, but Becca’s father, the Guide, had really been behind it.
The fires in town, the destruction of the school library, the students who were killed at the carnival.
How the kidnapping of a dozen local teenagers had nothing to do with a local criminal, and everything to do with a Guide coming to town to destroy the Merricks. How Calla Dean wasn’t a victim, but a murdering pyromaniac.
Becca knew all of it.
She’d never breathed a word to Quinn.
“You told me you miss your father,” said Quinn. “You cried and told me how much you wished you could trust him. Why would you lie about that?”
Becca looked stricken. “I didn’t lie about that. And now—
now he won’t even let me see him—”
“Oh, wait, you can tell the truth when you want something?”
Quinn scoffed and walked away. “Need a shoulder to cry on?
Forget it, Becca.”
“Quinn, stop!”
“Why?” Quinn stopped and looked at her. “Why, Bex? You don’t give a crap about me. Not really.”
“I do—please, stop, talk to me.”
Becca’s voice was heavy with tears, and Quinn almost broke.
She did know what her friend had gone through, and it hadn’t all been sunshine and roses.
Quinn knew because she’d let Becca cry on her shoulder about some of it.
But clearly not all of it.
And Quinn’s life wasn’t exactly sunshine and roses, either.
Not like Becca gave a crap.
“I don’t want to talk,” said Quinn. “I’ve got my own secrets to keep.”
Then she burst through the double doors into the chilled air waiting for her.
CHAPTER 7
The job took too long. Good, in a way, because Nick barely had time to shower, much less think about what he was doing. He threw on jeans and a striped Henley before checking himself in the mirror. His hair was a mess of wet clumps, and he could probably stand to spend five minutes with a razor. Five minutes he didn’t have.
Stellar. He was going to show up on Adam’s doorstep looking like he didn’t give a shit.
Gabriel appeared in his doorway. “I thought you had to study.”
“Library. Helping Quinn with trig.” Nick couldn’t meet his eyes. It was easier keeping the secret from Chris and Michael, but Gabriel would see right through him. Now he definitely couldn’t linger.
He grabbed a tube of hair stuff and squeezed some into his hand. He ran it through his hair as he went down the steps, hoping it would be enough. Then the car keys were in his hand and his messenger bag was over his shoulder.
“Nicky—” Gabriel started.
“Later, okay?” Nick said. “I told her I’d pick her up at eight.”
“But—”
Nick shut the door in his face. Then he paused there on the porch, his hand on the doorknob. For an instant, he wanted to pull the door open. Gabriel knew he was hiding something, as clearly as Nick had known it when Gabriel was sneaking into burning houses with Hunter.
As clearly as Nick knew Gabriel was on the other side of this door, his hand on the same doorknob, deliberating whether to come after him.
For an instant, Nick wanted him to. He wanted Gabriel to throw open the door and demand something like what the f**k is going on with you, Nicky? Because then he could tell him, and he wouldn’t have to carry this secret around anymore.
The door jerked open and the knob slipped from under his hand. Nick gasped and tried to hold on to his heartbeat before it bolted straight out of his body.
Gabriel studied him, his expression fierce.
Nick braced himself. Tell him. Tell him tell him tell him.
His lips froze. He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t breathe.
“Hey,” said Gabriel. “You tell Quinn if Tyler messes with her again, I’ll track him down and make him hurt for a month.”
Right. Quinn. His girlfriend.
The air left Nick’s lungs. He turned and stepped off the porch, willing the adrenaline to get the hell out of his body.
“You don’t even like Quinn.”
“Yeah, but it’s nice to have an excuse to go kick his ass.”
Nick pushed the button to unlock the car and didn’t say anything.
“Nicky,” Gabriel called from the porch. His voice gained an edge. “Are you mad at me about something?”
No. Yes. Nick had no idea.
“No,” he called back. “Just late.”
He started the car so he didn’t have to hear what else Gabriel said. But his brother’s offer rolled around in his head, gaining traction while he drove. Quinn wasn’t even his girlfriend, so it shouldn’t have pissed him off.
But it did. Mostly because Gabriel was right: Nick hadn’t done anything to protect her.
He knew being g*y wasn’t the equivalent of being weak, but right now, it sure felt like they went hand in hand.
He couldn’t exactly dispute it, either, not while he was sneaking out to see a guy instead of avenging Quinn.
When he pulled into the parking lot, he killed the engine, then sat there. He’d been keyed up about seeing Adam all day, and now he wanted to crawl back into that proverbial closet and wedge the door closed.
This was like physics class, where he didn’t know the right formulas. Adam would be expecting something from him tonight, and Nick had no idea what. Was study here just code for come over and make out? What if it was, and Nick missed the cues? Worse, what if it wasn’t?
He looked at the clock on the dash. Ten past eight. He was already late. He could start the engine and peel out of here. Forget their kiss. Forget everything.
Coward. First he couldn’t face Gabriel, and now he couldn’t face Adam.
A hand knocked on the passenger window, and Nick jumped a mile.
Adam stood there in the dark, his eyes shadowed and his expression hidden.
Nick unlocked the car, and Adam climbed in without hesitation, bringing the scent of cloves and oranges with him.
He didn’t say anything, and Nick peeked over at him. He’d expected loose dance clothes like last night, but Adam wore dark jeans and a red T-shirt under a charcoal gray pea coat. He had a messenger bag, too, beat-up brown leather that looked like it would explode from the weight of whatever was inside. His expression was easy, but his eyes were cautious.