Secret

  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 fuck 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 gay 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.
br />   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.

  When he spoke, his voice was gently teasing. “Do I pass muster?”

  Nick jerked his eyes away. “You look great. Good. Yeah. Fine.”

  Jesus, was he going to sound like a raving idiot every time he saw this guy? Me Nick. Me like boys. Me especially like how you look in that pea coat.

  Adam smiled, and it chased some of the tension from his eyes. “You look great, good, fine, too. Are you hungry?”

  “Starving, actually.” He hadn’t eaten dinner before meeting his brothers, and there sure hadn’t been time once he’d gotten home. Nick reached for the keys, but he couldn’t start the car. His brain was screaming at him. Public! Public! Public! He didn’t know whether that was better or worse than going down to Adam’s apartment. He had to clear his throat. “Where do you want to go?”

  “Little place up the road. Dirt cheap and always deserted because they don’t have a liquor license.”

  Something loosened in Nick’s chest. “Sounds great.”

  Adam reached out and stopped his hand before he could start the engine. “I thought maybe we could walk.” He paused. “Unless you think the weather won’t hold. It’s windy. Might rain.”

  Nick looked at Adam’s hand on his wrist. “It won’t rain.”

  The wind welcomed him into the outdoors, kicking up to swirl around him. He could feel rain on the air, but a distant promise, nothing they’d have to worry about for hours yet. He was glad for the chance to walk. With a destination and a task and his element feeding him power, his brain relaxed a little.

  Until Adam said, “You were sitting in your car for a while.”

  Wind rushed between darkened buildings to form tiny whirlwinds from the dead leaves along the sidewalk. Nick fed energy into the air, sending them spinning higher. Clouds blocked the starlight overhead, making their walk very dark between streetlamps. “I didn’t realize you’d be waiting for me.”

  “I wasn’t. Not really.” Adam paused, and that hint of uncertain tension found his voice. “I figured I could use a walk either way.”

  Either way. Nick took a second to figure that out. Adam had thought Nick was standing him up. Then he’d seen him sitting in the car—quite obviously not getting out. Shame took Nick by the shoulders and shook him. He was disappointing everyone today.

  “I’m sorry I was late,” he said.

  “Don’t be. You’re here.” But Adam rubbed at the back of his neck, leaving Nick to wonder how much of that was true.

  They fell into silence again. Nick let the air swirl around them, seeking answers about Adam’s mood. Waiting for some signal of how to proceed.

  “I didn’t mean to ambush you,” Adam finally said.

  Nick looked over, confused.

  “When you were sitting in your car. Were you thinking of leaving?”

  Nick inhaled to lie, but then thought better of it. He nodded.

  Adam took that at face value, but he kept walking. “When I saw you sitting there, I thought about doing the same thing.”

  Nick ran that scenario through his head. Finally getting the guts to walk down to Adam’s apartment and finding no one home.

  That—that would have stung. Given the thoughts he’d been having in the car, he probably would have deserved it.

  “I’m glad you didn’t,” Nick said, his voice rough.

  “Just because I’m out doesn’t mean I don’t care, Nick.”

  Nick. It was the first time he’d heard Adam say his name, and it sounded like an accusation.

  “I know that,” he said tightly.

  “If you’re not ready for this,” Adam continued, his voice gaining momentum from anger, “I get it. Trust me, I get it. If you want to walk away, it’s fine. But don’t string me along while you—”

  “Jesus,” Nick snapped. “I’m not.” He rounded on Adam, reaching to grab his arm, to stop him, to confront him.

  But Adam was suddenly five feet away, his back to the darkened building, his shoulders tight, his hands curled into fists. Breath left his mouth in quickened bursts.

  Nick held still for a moment. Then he closed the distance between them, stopping when he sensed Adam was going to back away again—or fight. His fists were up now, his expression resolved.

  Nick kept his own hands low. “Did you think I was going to hit you?” he said carefully. “I wasn’t. I wouldn’t.”

  Adam studied him. His expression reminded Nick of last night, when Adam had almost flinched from his touch. Then the fear faded, quickly replaced by something closer to embarrassment. He turned and started walking again.

  “Whoa.” Nick caught his arm and hauled him to a stop.

  Adam stopped, his eyes locked straight ahead. His arm was tense under Nick’s hand.

  Nick moved closer and dropped his voice. “I’m not trying to string you along,” he said quietly. “I thought about leaving, but I wasn’t going to. I couldn’t stop thinking about you all day.”

  Adam turned his head to meet his eyes, and Nick felt his cheeks go warm.

  “All day?” said Adam.

  “I failed a physics test because of it.”

  A shadow of that easy confidence sneaked back into Adam’s voice. “I blew a chem lab tonight because of you.”

  Nick’s eyes widened. “A chem lab?”

  “Yeah. I had class. I told you.”

  “I thought you meant dance.”

  “I wish. I suck at chemistry.”

  Nick loosened his grip on Adam’s arm, but he didn’t let go. “I’m great at chemistry.”

  Adam’s eyes flicked to his lips. “I bet.”

  Nick hesitated, not wanting to damage the mood, which felt precariously balanced between flirtation and forgiveness. But it also felt like a big old heap of evasion. “Can we talk about what just happened?”

  Adam pulled away and started walking. Nick fell into step beside him, expecting Adam to need to walk to talk. But then his companion remained silent.

  Nick didn’t press. He had enough experience from his brothers—to say nothing of Quinn—to know that people wouldn’t talk until they were damn good and ready. By the time they made it to the tiny restaurant, he no longer expected an answer.

  The place looked like it didn’t know what it wanted to be. Red-checked tablecloths, cheap metal chairs, and all manner of food on the menu, from dim sum to stromboli. Soft lighting did nothing to hide the fact that they were the only patrons in the place.

  After they were seated at a four top, with sodas in front of them, Nick was desperate for anything to lighten the mood.

  “Fast service,” he said wryly. “Do you want me to accuse you of dazzling the waitress?”

  Adam choked on his soda. “Is that a Twilight reference? How is it possible your brothers don’t know you’re gay?”

  Every time he said that, Nick wanted to flinch as hard as Adam had on the street. “I said a girlfriend was making me read it.”

  Adam lost the smile. “Quinn said you’ve had a lot of girlfriends.”

  Nick shrugged and wondered what the safe answer to that was. “‘A lot’ is relative, I guess.” He paused, wondering what else Quinn had said about him. “And you?”

  “Girlfriends? None.”

  Nick smiled but wondered if they were going to play this game all night. The entire rhythm of the evening felt off, like they’d hit the wrong note right from the start, and they’d never really found the melody.

  Adam unstrapped his bag and pulled out a chemistry textbook
, followed by a spiral notebook. “Didn’t you say you wanted to study?”

  So they weren’t going to talk about anything of substance at all. Nick pulled out his calculus textbook, glad he’d brought it along. He worked through the three homework questions he’d missed, hoping he could convince the teacher to give him half credit. Then he moved on to tonight’s assignment.

  Adam made for quiet company. Nick had worried it would be uncomfortable, but the restaurant was warm, the French dip sandwiches were exceptional, and an hour had passed before he realized it. He shoved his calculus textbook back into his bag and reached for physics.

  The air whispered frustration, so Nick glanced across at his companion’s notebook. Adam hadn’t lied about hating chemistry. It looked like it hated him back, from the amount of cross outs and eraser marks on the paper.

  “Balancing equations?” Nick said.

  Adam glanced up. “No. Murdering equations.”

  “No offense, but why are you taking chemistry if you hate it? I thought you were all gung ho about dance.”

  “I am, but I’d like something to fall back on. I need a science credit.” He shrugged. “It was this or biology, and I didn’t want to cut up dead animals.”

  Something to fall back on. Another thing Nick admired about him. “You want me to take a look?”

  “Sure.”

  Nick expected him to turn the book around, like Gabriel would, but Adam didn’t move. So Nick took his pencil and moved to the other side of the table.

  The table wasn’t tiny, but it was small enough that his thigh brushed Adam’s when he sat, and he could feel the warmth of his body in the space between him and the wall.

  Chemistry. Focus.

  “Here,” he said, writing the first formula on a new line. “I think you’re trying to make it too complicated. I always find it easiest to start with the element that only shows up in one reactant and product. Like here, it’s oxygen, so double the H-two-O on the right side of the arrow.”

  “Then I have too many hydrogens.”

  “So double it on the left.” Adam did, and Nick said, “Now look at the carbon.”