Nice. His control was getting better.
He checked the phone. Hunter.
Four alarm fire at Tanyard Springs. U in?
Gabriel slid his fingers across the keys to respond, then froze.
As long as you can stay out of trouble . . .
But a four-alarm fire would be big. And Tanyard Springs was a townhome community. This could be more than one family.
He paused his iPod and slipped out of bed to crack the door.
His brothers were in the kitchen, cleaning up and goofing off from the sound of it. The rain had long since stopped. He could sneak out and be gone before they noticed.
But things weren’t terrible right now. Spending the day with Michael had actually been nice, in a bizarre way. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d played ball with his older brother.
Even the trip to Home Depot had been peaceful.
If he snuck out, it could unravel everything.
But a four-alarm fire. There would be a lot of firemen. It would be easy to stay hidden.
Then again, Michael would know. Hell, he’d probably check the news first thing tomorrow morning. And Michael seemed to be offering him some . . . trust.
Gabriel considered going downstairs, joining them. It might be awkward at first, but maybe it would be okay.
Then he caught Nick’s voice. “So how was your afternoon of babysitting?”
Gabriel started to ease the door closed, sure his twin was talking to Quinn or Becca but Michael responded. “Fine. We ran to Home Depot to pick up supplies for that gazebo job tomorrow.”
Gabriel jerked back.
Babysitting. Babysitting.
Michael wasn’t being nice. He wasn’t being brotherly. He was sitting around, making sure Gabriel didn’t go out and start any fires.
No wonder he’d been in the kitchen this afternoon, working on paperwork. No wonder he’d practically dragged Gabriel to Home Depot. And what was he going to do, sit around all weekend?
Gabriel almost put his fist through the wall. Babysitting!
His phone chimed again.
You there?
Fury almost made it impossible to type. But he managed.
Yeah. I’m in.
CHAPTER 29
Monday morning, Layne dug the currycomb into her horse’s coat, rubbing in circular motions until her biceps ached.
Brisk morning air nipped at her cheeks, but she didn’t care.
She’d already done this twice and could see the shine on her horse’s coat under the dust and hair she was bringing up. But she’d do it a fourth time, and a fifth, too, if she could get away with it.
Anything to stay out of the house until her father left for work. Even if she had to wear this getup to school.
Even if she had to skip school.
Saturday night, the house had felt like a war zone. At first, they’d gone to different rooms, doors closed, only silence beyond. She’d finally crept out at seven to make dinner, hoping baked chicken and mashed potatoes her father’s favorite would be enough to pull him out of his study.
But she’d knocked, and he’d answered, and he’d told her to feed Simon and go to bed.
Then he’d come back out, for one reason only: to confiscate her cell phone.
Sunday was worse, only because her father showed his face.
Every word was clipped, every motion sharp. Layne expected him to yell, to ground her, to issue restrictions. But he didn’t mention Gabriel. He barely spoke to Simon not like there was any change there.
She’d been relieved when a client called with an emergency, and her father had to leave.
But the tension in the house had made her completely forget the events of Friday night. Since she didn’t have her backpack, she turned on the computer and loaded her e-mail, hoping to email a classmate to get the weekend assignment for Honors English.
And then she’d been shocked by the onslaught.
At first, she thought her account had been hacked. She had over fifty e-mails.
Then she’d started recognizing the names of fellow students.
Taylor. Heather. A few others, all from that crowd.
Her throat still felt tight, thinking about it. She’d clicked on one.
It was a picture of her, pinned on that chaise lounge, but the photo had been doctored. Now it looked like she was completely naked.
Bad enough. But the next one was from Ryan Stacey. The subject line said, Bring back memories?
She expected another dirty picture, but it was a link to a newspaper article about a fire Saturday night, at some town house community across town. Four homes, destroyed. Almost everyone had gotten out without injuries, but a young woman had been trapped and badly burned before she was rescued.
There was a picture.
Layne clicked for the next e-mail, before her brain could register the damage.
The next e-mail had obviously been passed around before coming to her account, because she had to scroll through nu-merous LOLs before getting to another photo of herself on the chaise lounge. But she was on fire, her face a Photoshopped image of a charred dog’s head.
And in the e-mail chain, a message from Kara, saying how hysterical it was.
Layne had yanked the computer plug out of the wall.
And then she’d run to the bathroom to throw up.
The horse sidestepped away from the brush, and Layne snapped back to the present. She’d been pressing too hard.
She abandoned the currycomb for a bristle brush, flicking the dirt and loose hairs into the aisle, making the animal’s red coat truly shine.
A knock sounded against the wood planks at the end of the aisle, and she jumped, then placed a hand on her horse’s shoulder to steady him when he snorted. No one ever came out this early. It was barely six in the morning.
A figure stood at the other end of the barn, in the wide doorway, backed by sunshine, so she couldn’t make out who it was.
She set down the brush. “Hello?” she called. “Can I help you?”
“Layne?”
Her step faltered and then the clouds shifted, just a little, enough so she could recognize Gabriel standing at the end of the barn.
It sent her heart dancing with a skip and a flutter. She hadn’t heard from him since Saturday, of course, because she’d practically been on house arrest. Really, she hadn’t been sure how she’d face him, after the things her father had said.
But now, seeing him here, she almost fell over her own feet trying to get down the aisle. He was wearing running shoes again. Shorts and a dark hoodie. His face was a bit flushed, his eyes dark with the sun at his back.
It wasn’t just that he was here. He’d run. How many miles had he said? Four?
But then she realized he wasn’t coming toward her. He wasn’t smiling. He was just standing there, that tense, inscrutable expression on his face.
She stopped short, trying to get her breath and heartbeat to settle into a steady rhythm. She stared up at him, wondering if he hated her now, if her father’s words had ruined everything, if she’d be starting school today without a single ally. Or maybe it was those e-mails.
Maybe he’d seen. Maybe he’d reconsidered.
She was a freak.
An outcast.
Only now, she wasn’t hidden. Her secrets were out there, for the whole world to see.
For a horrifying moment, she worried she was going to throw up again.
And then she did something worse.
She started sobbing.
Huge, choking sobs that made her shoulders shake and her body tremble. Her hands were over her eyes, and her legs couldn’t carry her weight on top of this onslaught of emotion.
Then his hands caught her shoulders, drawing her in against his chest. “Layne. Layne, please.”
“They put it all over the Internet. I knew . . . I knew it would be bad ” She choked again.
“I’m sorry.” She felt his breath on her hair. “Layne, I’m sorry.”
“Even Kara . . . Kara was emailing with them.”
“Your friend is a bitch. And she doesn’t deserve you.”
“She was my only friend.”
“No. She wasn’t.”
Her hiccupping breaths abated enough for her to look up at him, but he didn’t let her go. His arms were around her back.
Strong, supportive, doing the job her knees just couldn’t. He smelled like sweat and sunshine and the woods, and she loved it.
She pressed her face against his shoulder. “I was worried you hated me.”
“Then we have that in common.”
Confused, she lifted her head. His eyes were close, blue sparked with sunlight.
“I was worried you hated me,” he said. “After what your father said ”
“That was my fault.”
“No.” His voice hardened. “That was his fault.” He paused to brush a strand of hair from her forehead.
“I don’t hate you,” she whispered.
“You sure?” There was no relief in his eyes, just wary exhaustion. “You wouldn’t be alone.”
“What does that mean?”
“Nothing. I’m being stupid. It’s been a long weekend.” His hands were stroking along her back.
She gave a choked laugh; it sounded strangled. “Tell me about it.”
Gabriel paused, and now he seemed hesitant. “I was worried you wouldn’t want to see me.”
“Are you kidding?” She looked up at him. “You’re the only person I want to see right now.”
He leaned in, his expression softer now, more sure. “So crying when you see me is a good thing. Got it.”
She punched him in the shoulder. “I can’t believe you ran all the way here.”
“I told Hunter I’d run a marathon with him next month.” He paused. “So I’ll need to do lots of running in the morning.”
She picked up on the wry note in his voice. “Funny how I do lots of riding in the morning.”
“That’s what I figured.” He looked up, past her. “Is it always this deserted?”
“Just me and the horses. Plenty of privacy.” She flushed, realizing how that sounded. “I mean ”
His hands found her waist, hard through the thin material of her jacket. “I know exactly what you mean.”
She sucked in a breath, but then he was kissing her.
When his lips touched hers, it was like lighting a match: a quick flare of heat, a burst of light, and then a slow burn. Her body melted into his, letting him support her again. His hands slid under the edge of her jacket, and even though there was a turtleneck there, she froze anyway.
His hands stopped but his kisses didn’t. They slowed, his mouth drawing at hers carefully, his tongue brushing hers until he’d coaxed small noises from her throat and the heat in her body was everywhere, not just near his hands or his mouth. This time, when his hands slid under her jacket, she let him, even when she knew he had to be feeling the scars beneath the fabric.
She didn’t realize they were moving until her back hit the wall of the stable, until she felt his weight against her. Everything accelerated, a pace of desperation. Her pulse, her breathing. The way her jacket was just suddenly gone before she even felt him pull at the zipper. The way his hoodie was a puddle on the concrete floor, before her hands recognized the bare muscles of his arms. His kisses were wild, crazy, addictive.
Layne reached up to find his face, her thumbs tracing the stubble along his jaw. She took a chance and bit at his lip, feeling raw and animalistic and shy, all at once. But he made a small sound, a good sound, and she did it again, more sure.
Then he did it back, and her body lit like a live wire. She wished he didn’t have a T-shirt. She wished she didn’t have a turtleneck. When his hands slid along her waist and found an inch of bare skin, she didn’t flinch. And her indrawn breath meant nothing bad.
Until she heard the roar of a diesel engine, the crunch of truck tires on the gravel road leading to the barn.
Gabriel snapped back. He looked almost panicked.
“The barn manager,” Layne said. “She checks the lower barn first. We have a minute.”