“And I drove Becca over,” said Hunter.
“No one asked you to stay,” said Chris. But even his remark lacked the usual acidity.
Becca smacked him in the shoulder. “I did.”
Gabriel didn’t move from the doorway. Everyone seemed to be getting along just fine.
Without him.
“You hungry?” said Michael. His voice was careful—but then maybe he was picking up on Gabriel’s mood. “There’s plenty left.”
“Not for long,” said Quinn, and she reached out to pick up a piece of garlic bread.
“I thought you were trying out for the cheer squad,” said Gabriel.
Quinn took a bite. “That’s tomorrow. I didn’t know you cared.”
“I don’t.” He gave her a significant look. “But maybe you want to lay off the carbs.”
She stopped chewing. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
God, what was wrong with him?
Nick’s expression lost any shred of good humor, but he wasn’t angry—yet. “Come on. Back off.”
Gabriel shrugged. “Hey, I guess they could put you at the bottom of the pyramid with the sturdy girls—”
“Knock it off,” said Becca.
“Leave her alone,” said Nick. Now they were getting closer to anger.
“You’re an asshole,” said Quinn. She flung the bread onto the plate. Her eyes looked red.
Great. He could make two girls cry in the span of fifteen minutes.
“So I’ve heard,” said Gabriel. Then he turned and headed back down the hallway, hoping to god there was a protein bar in his backpack.
A chair scraped the floor in the kitchen, the sound full of fury. Gabriel didn’t wait to see who was coming after him.
But he felt the air change even before his twin caught him by the arm and jerked him around.
Nick looked pissed—but puzzled, too. “What is with you?”
“Nothing.” Gabriel shrugged out of his grip and reached to open the front door. “Jesus, Nicky, it’s not my fault she can’t take a—”
Nick grabbed him again and shoved him against the doorjamb. The air temperature dropped another five degrees.
Then he leaned in. “Stop.”
Gabriel glared back at him. “Don’t start this, Nick.”
“I didn’t start anything.” His brother’s voice was low. “What is it? Do you like her or something?”
Gabriel snorted. “Please.” Then he jerked free and shoved Nick away.
Nick shoved him back.
Gabriel went still. He could count on one hand the number of times he and Nick had gotten into it—seriously gotten into it. They were more likely to gang up on Chris than fight each other.
“Don’t start this,” he said again.
“Leave Quinn alone,” said Nick.
“Yeah, whatever.” Gabriel made to move away.
“I’m serious.” His twin shoved him again, a little harder, a little rougher. “Or are you too stupid to realize that?”
Stupid.
Gabriel shoved him back, putting some real strength behind it. His brother half stumbled into the banister of the staircase.
But Nick hesitated before retaliating. Gabriel could feel it, that moment of indecision before a fight turned into a fight. That moment when you could back down and lose nothing.
“You know,” said Gabriel, hearing his voice turn cruel, “you can tell me to leave her alone, but I don’t know what you’re going to do about the guys at school. It’s not like she was the type to say no before, if you catch my drift—”
Nick punched him in the face.
And then they were fighting for real.
This wasn’t like when he’d fought with Hunter. Nick wasn’t a fighter, not really. He got some solid hits in, but he wouldn’t fight dirty. Gabriel drove him back until he hit the wall, and he knew it wasn’t going to last long.
But then they were being dragged apart. Someone was yelling; someone else had him by the arms, pulling him back.
Nick had blood on his lip, and he jerked his arm free from Chris to wipe at his mouth. “Jesus, Gabriel, what? You can’t let someone else be happy for five minutes?”
Gabriel tried to pull free from whoever had him—had to be Michael. “Sorry, Nicky. Guess everyone can’t be as perfect as you.”
The girls were in the dining room doorway. Becca had her hands up, her expression placating. “Look, guys, just chill out.”
“Don’t bother,” said Quinn. Her eyes weren’t red anymore, and she leveled an icy glare at Gabriel. “If he wants to act like an animal, just take him out back and shoot him.”
“The only animal I see,” said Gabriel, “is the dog in the front hall—”
“Cut it out!” said Michael from behind him.
But then Gabriel couldn’t breathe.
He didn’t quite get it at first. Was Michael holding him too tightly? Was he winded from the fight? His lungs were trying to inhale, but it was like there was nothing there.
He found Nick’s eyes across the foyer, grim and determined and just a bit satisfied.
Gabriel had a string of insults ready. He just couldn’t talk.
He couldn’t inhale. This wasn’t funny anymore.
This wasn’t fucking funny.
His lungs were burning. He fought the hands holding him.
Outside. He needed to get outside. He was going to drown in the middle of the hallway, without a drop of water around.
Fighting made it worse. His vision turned spotty. Nick’s power choked the air around him, flicking at his skin, mocking him.
His own power flared without direction, seeking fire, energy, anything it could find to draw strength and retaliate.
The lights in the foyer exploded.
Then the lights in the dining room.
The girls shrieked, clinging to each other, ducking into the hallway where there weren’t lights.
“Stop it,” yelled Michael. “Both of you. Stop!”
Fire was in the air, fed by electricity in the walls. Nick was trying to choke it off, to steal the oxygen the fire craved. Gabriel pulled more power without trying—his element was taking over. He had to get it under control before he burned the house down.
But he needed to breathe.
The front porch light exploded. Glass tinkled against the front door.
“No!” Hunter’s voice. He leapt around Michael and hit the switches on the wall, killing most of the flow of electricity to the foyer. “Where’s the breaker box?”
“Got it,” said Chris. He let go of Nick and bolted for the basement door.
Gabriel felt his knees hit the floor. He couldn’t figure out whether things were still exploding or if that was his oxygen-starved brain giving him his own personal light show.
Then Hunter was there in front of him, hands clasping him around the neck.
Like he needed another barrier to breathing.
“Breathe,” said Hunter, and Gabriel felt his power in the space around them, different from his brothers, different from anything he’d ever felt before. “Please. Breathe.”
Gabriel caught a breath—but that was it. It was enough to steady his control, to stop feeling like the house would explode at any minute.
He could feel Hunter fighting Nick now, as if contact let him feel the five-pointed star that connected them all.
Gabriel got another breath.
He was so going to beat the shit out of Nick.
He felt the moment Chris threw the master switch on the circuit breaker box. The power to the house just . . . died. His own power searched farther, to the lines on the street, cars on the road.
“Don’t look for it,” said Hunter. He hadn’t let go, and Gabriel could feel his tension through his hands.
And just like flipping that switch, Gabriel could breathe again.