When Michael’s expression didn’t change to disgust, Nick gained momentum, revealing Adam’s past experience and Quinn’s home situation. He talked about the way Tyler had burned her arm, how she’d called Nick to pick her up in the woods, and how he’d snuck her into the house because she didn’t want to go home.
Michael was pissed about that. “Nick, if your friends need help, you need to tell me. Don’t sneak them inside.”
“No girls spending the night, remember?”
“That’s not the same and you know it. Are you aware that when people dump their problems on you, you don’t actually have to solve them by yourself?”
Nick didn’t have an answer for that.
Michael kept going. “I’m actually more concerned with how you describe her home situation than I am about her spending time with Tyler.”
Nick flinched. “She won’t tell me all the details. I don’t know what’s going on at home half the time.”
“If she’s hiding in the woods, it can’t be good.”
Right now, after what she’d done, Nick didn’t really give a shit if Quinn was sleeping in the woods.
No. That wasn’t true. He did care. A lot.
She sure didn’t make it easy. “She says she’s waiting for her brother to go back to school. Her family is under a lot of stress since the fire.”
Michael sighed and ran a hand down his face. “Will she talk to anyone? What about Becca?”
“She won’t speak to her because Becca never told her about the Elemental stuff. Then she got all pissed at me because I told her Tyler was a dickhead who’d just hurt her. Now she’s avoiding everyone except Tyler.” Nick’s voice turned thick with disgust. “I think he was at school to pick her up. She said she has a new ride to school.”
“What about Adam? Will she talk to him?”
Nick looked down at the table. “Maybe, but she hasn’t been showing up to dance.”
“Could you ask him to reach out to her?”
Nick picked at the edge of his place mat and didn’t say anything.
“Come on,” said Michael. “Don’t leave out part of the story.”
So Nick told him about the previous night. About Adam. And Hunter. His cheeks were on fire, and he didn’t go to any great detail, but he talked.
“Wow,” said Michael, dragging the word into three syllables. “No wonder you’re so keyed up.”
Nick shrugged. His mood darkened as his brain replayed shoving Adam again. “Guess I’m aggressive sometimes, huh?”
Michael hesitated. “I didn’t mean that as an insult, Nick.”
He didn’t need to. Nick got it. He couldn’t help Quinn, he couldn’t fix things with Adam, and hell, he couldn’t even stand up to frigging Tyler.
“I’m going to talk to Becca’s mom,” Michael said finally. “She knows Quinn’s family.”
“You don’t need to get involved,” Nick said.
“Wrong. I think I should have gotten involved a long time ago.” He paused and drained the last of his coffee. “I also have a few thoughts about Tyler.”
Nick looked at him in surprise. “You’re going to confront him?”
“No. I’m going to leave him alone, and I think you should, too.” When Nick started to protest, Michael held up a hand. “I don’t think he’s hurting Quinn.” He paused, and his voice took on a shadow of the pain he’d expressed when he’d talked about that night at the quarry. “He hates me. He hates our whole family. He hates what we are and he hates what we can do. We see the dark side of Tyler because that’s all he lets us see.”
“Maybe that’s all there is to see,” Nick said bitterly.
“I don’t think so,” said Michael.
“Why not?”
“Because he loved his sister,” Michael said. “Very much.”
“How do you know?”
“Because he was the first kid I pulled out of the water that night. He was bleeding all over the place and his shoulder was dislocated, but once I brought him around, he coughed up a gallon of water and fought like hell to go back under to find her.” He paused. “I understand why he hates us, Nick. I do. But I think part of him hates himself, too.”
Nick thought of the burn on Quinn’s wrist. Of the way Tyler had grabbed him two hours ago. Of the years of abuse he’d suffered at the hands of Tyler and Seth and their friends. He kept flashing on that gym class freshman year, when Tyler had cornered Nick in the locker room and beaten the crap out of him.
Nick could still remember feeling powerless, clenching his fists so he wouldn’t call elements by accident, afraid to swing because he didn’t want Tyler to hit him harder.
He’d switched places with Gabriel the next day. His twin wasn’t afraid to hit back.
What had Quinn said? Tyler still thinks your brother killed his sister.
Tyler had confided in Quinn. About something that had happened five years ago.
Quinn had confided in Tyler. What else had she told him?
Nick’s head couldn’t handle all these emotions. “Can we go?” he asked abruptly.
Michael took it in stride. “Sure. If you’re ready.”
The drive home was quiet aside from the steady rain smacking the windshield. This time, the temperature in the cab remained steady. No tension hung between Nick and his brother.
“Thanks,” Nick finally said. “For being okay.”
“You don’t have to thank me for that.” Michael paused. “I won’t say anything to the guys.”
Nick nodded. “Thanks.”
Michael was silent for a while. “Can I tell Hannah?”
Nick thought about it. “Yeah. I think that’d be okay.”
Michael nodded and didn’t say anything else.
Nick wanted to put everyone’s troubles out of his head, to let the sound of rain on the windshield steal his thoughts and let him relax. Instead, he kept analyzing his conversation with Michael. About Quinn, about Adam.
About Tyler.
They were almost home when Nick figured out what Michael had meant about Tyler.
He was the first kid Michael had pulled out of the water.
Covered in blood with a dislocated shoulder, but when I brought him around . . .
Tyler had been hit by a rock, too. Michael hadn’t just lost Emily that night.
He’d saved Tyler’s life.
Quinn blotted at the cut on Tyler’s cheek, being a little rougher than she needed to be. “Why did you pick a fight with him?”
“I didn’t pick a fight.”
“You’re telling me you were only standing there and Nick Merrick walked up and started bringing down a tornado on your ass? Yeah, okay.”
Tyler looked at her, not flinching as she pressed a cotton ball full of antiseptic against his face. She honestly didn’t know why she was bothering—the cut was an hour old, and he could probably light a candle and heal himself. Or something.
When he spoke, his voice was rough and angry. “I hated them before, but now—” He gritted his teeth. “I hate that he’s using you, Quinn.”
“He’s not using me,” she said quietly. “It’s—it’s an illusion. I’m not doing anything for him. And he’s my friend. I hate that you got into it with him.”
“If he’s your friend, he should be protecting you.”
She flung the cotton in the trash. “I can take care of myself.”
“How? By clinging to any guy who will give you a second glance?”
“Fuck you.” She swung a fist to punch him in the chest.
He caught her wrist and, when she fought, wrestled her back against the wall. She glared up at him, breathing heavy, seething with anger.
He got right in her face. “Get as mad as you want, baby girl. You know it’s true.”
She hated him. Hated him.