She laughed through her tears, sniffling against his shoulder. “Tell me about it.” She hesitated. “Do you really think there’s a Guide in town?”
He took a long breath. “There have been a lot of fires. I’d be more surprised if there’s not a Guide in town.”
“And they’d kill you for saving me?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know.” He paused. “Did Merrick ever tell you what really happened at that carnival last week?”
She nodded against his chest. “Some of it. A girl named Calla Dean was trying to bring the Guides here. She wanted to start a war.”
Tyler drew back to look at her. “Calla Dean? I don’t know her. Her family wasn’t part of the original deal with the Merricks.”
Quinn swiped remnants of tears from her eyes. “You might not ever know her. She disappeared after the carnival. Nick said they don’t know if she was killed or if she ran. But there haven’t been any further arson attacks, so . . .”
She drifted into silence, letting the rest remain unsaid. Calla might not be dead, but she hadn’t made a reappearance in town. Maybe she’d moved on to start her war somewhere else.
Tyler held her for the longest time, but when he finally spoke, his voice was careful. “I know you don’t want to talk about it, but your mother—”
Quinn started to pull away. “You’re right. I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Are you going to hide here forever?”
His voice was gentle, but it made her cry again. “I don’t know what to do. Would they arrest her? What would happen to me and Jordan?”
“I don’t know. But . . .” He paused. “She could have really hurt you, Quinn. Jesus, she did really hurt you. If she’d hit you a second time—”
“I’m not calling the cops. I’m not. If you want me to leave, fine. But I’m not—”
“Shh, take it easy. I’m not telling you to leave.”
“I just need a few days, okay? Let it blow over.”
Tyler stiffened. “You want to go back there?”
“She’s not always like that. If Jake is gone, maybe it won’t be so bad.”
Tyler sighed.
“Please?” she begged. Then she winced. This reminded her of the night she’d been in Nick’s truck, begging him for a place to sleep, too.
“Okay,” Tyler finally said. “We can give it a few days.”
She turned her face up and kissed him.
Tyler pulled back. “Quinn. Stop.”
She froze, then jerked away from him. “Forget it,” she cried, feeling fresh tears on her cheeks. She punched him in the chest. “Forget it. I don’t need charity from—”
He caught her wrists and pinned them behind her back. The motion was so quick, so rough, that she almost cried out. It put her right against his chest, staring up into his eyes. “What do you want?” he said. “Is this how every guy treats you, like you have to pay to play? Tell me, Quinn.”
“Didn’t you hear her?” she said. “This is all I’m good for.”
“It’s not,” he whispered. “I promise you, it’s not.”
“No one wants me. I can’t even make someone want me.”
He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against hers. “You poor, mixed-up girl.”
“Fuck you. If you don’t want me, then let me go.”
“You’re funny. You have no idea how hard it was to act honorably when you were parading around here in your underwear.”
She snorted. “Like you know how to act honorably.”
He froze, then released her. He grabbed the beer from the counter and headed back to the living room. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s watch a movie. Grab some snacks if you want.”
Quinn stared at his retreating back. “A movie? That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
She couldn’t keep up with his rapidly shifting emotions, but maybe he felt exactly the same about her. He was already flipping on the television, searching through the pay-per-view listings.
“What do you feel like?” he said.
“Slasher flick,” she said.
He rolled his eyes and settled on a romantic comedy.
Quinn groaned. “These are cheesy.”
“Sweetheart, I think you’re overdue for something cheesy.”
She hesitated by the couch, but he opened his arms like he’d done on the porch, and she snuggled into the warmth of his body, inhaling the scent of him.
Later, when she was almost asleep on his chest, she murmured, “I’ll keep your secret.”
“You don’t need to.” He stroked a hand through her hair—the most intimate thing he’d done all night. “You keep enough secrets. I’m definitely not asking you to keep mine.”
CHAPTER 21
Nick had thought his physics test was bad on Tuesday. He probably should have stuck with that score. This was impossible. He couldn’t think straight. He had no idea what he was writing on the paper.
And he didn’t care.
His pencil moved, but his mind was elsewhere. Adam wasn’t responding to his texts. Well, he’d responded to one this morning, when Nick finally begged him to confirm he’d got home all right.
I’m home.
And that was it. Nick almost would have preferred the silence. Now he knew Adam was getting his texts and choosing not to respond.
Quinn was no better. He’d tracked her down in the hall this morning, but she’d turned her back on him and said she’d talk to him later.
But not before he’d caught a glimpse of the new bruise on her cheek.
What. The. Hell.
He’d tried to catch up to her, but she’d disappeared into a classroom, and the teacher had all but closed the door in his face.
And of course texts demanding to know what had happened had been hopeless. No one would respond to him, it seemed.
He didn’t want to be around his brothers, with Chris suspecting something and Gabriel being an asshole and Hunter knowing everything but keeping quiet. At least Michael was swamped with work, and he hadn’t resumed the prying.
Nick turned to the last physics test question and sighed. He didn’t have a chance.
He gave it his best shot anyway, hoping for partial credit.
Yeah, right.
Luckily, Dr. Cutter was speaking with another student when Nick brought the test up to his desk. He turned it over, placing it facedown on the desk blotter.
Then he walked out of the room, feeling the pinch of guilt between his shoulder blades.
He had never failed a test. Ever.
And now he’d done it twice.
He couldn’t go to the cafeteria—not like he wanted to eat anything anyway. He shifted his backpack and headed for the library.
While he walked, he scrolled through the texts from Adam until he found the picture he’d sent himself.
His eyes blurred, and he blinked moisture away. God, he’d been such an idiot.
His phone vibrated in his hand, making his heart leap.
Not Adam. Michael.
I hate to ask, but can you help with a job tonight?
Nick sighed.
But what else did he have to do? He texted back quickly.
Sure.
By the end of the day, he was regretting it. Tension was making him surly and snappish. Janette Morrits asked for a pencil in seventh period and he just about flung it in her face. Teachers responded to his attitude with lectures to pay attention, to focus, that they expected more.
Every snicker, every giggle, every stupid use of the word gay or fag had his head whipping around.