Gabriel was quiet for a moment. “How the hell do you live with her?”
“I don’t.” Layne paused, unsure whether to keep going. This next part was fresh, and the hardest. “She walked out the week after school started. Moved in with some guy she’d met at the country club. She told our father she was sick of trying to make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear. Get it? She was sick of trying to make a perfect family out of a bunch of freaks.”
“So now you’re stuck with your father.”
She swung her head around, hearing the derision in his voice. “My dad’s not usually like . . . like he was with you. He’s going through a lot. My mom was a bitch to him, too, but I don’t think he ever thought she’d cheat on him. She always blamed him for the fire. She wanted him to quit his job—and he’d counter that she loved spending the money. She was the one who put Simon in a private school, saying it was better for him, but I finally figured out that he was just one more imperfection she was trying to hide . . .”
Gabriel reached out and ran a finger along her cheekbone, and she didn’t realize until then that she was crying. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t know.”
“No one does.” She sniffed. “Until now, and Taylor’s going to put that stupid video all over the Internet.”
“It’s Friday night. People will forget all about it by Monday.” He paused, running a finger across her cheek again. “And I’ll be surprised if people even believe it’s you.”
She looked up at him. “You will? Why?”
He picked up a curl of hair from her shoulder. “Because you haven’t just been keeping the scars hidden; you’ve been keeping sexy Layne hidden.”
“I am not sexy.”
“You’re lucky I didn’t jump you when we were sitting on the tailgate.”
“Shut up.”
His hand found her knee, and he leaned in to kiss her neck. “Really, you’re lucky I’m not jumping you right now.”
His hand slid along the outside of her thigh, not too high, just inside the hemline of her skirt. The touch stole every thought from her head. “And you’re not . . . you’re not freaked out . . . by the . . . um . . .”
“No. I think you’re beautiful. And I’m no stranger to fucked-up families.”
And then he was kissing her again. The addictive pull of his mouth almost had her crawling into his lap. Her hands bunched in his shirt, pulling him closer. His fingers didn’t venture higher, but teased along the edge of her skirt, brushing against her so lightly that she almost couldn’t stand it. She’d never thought anyone would touch her this way—she’d never wanted anyone to touch her this way. But now that he was being so careful, the building heat in her body made her want to rip all her clothes off.
Layne always rolled her eyes in health class when they talked about hormones getting out of control. But right now, she could barely remember her name. She totally got how someone could forget something like a silly little condom.
Suddenly Gabriel was laughing. “How someone could forget what?”
She almost fell off the bench. “I said that out loud?”
“Yeah.” He leaned closer, his breath against her jaw. “Just what were you thinking about?”
“Health class,” she squeaked.
His cell phone chimed. Thank god.
Gabriel sat back to fish it out of his pocket. It threw light on his face, but she couldn’t figure out his expression.
“What’s wrong?” she said.
He shook his head. “Nothing.” He held up the phone so she could read the text. “Nick wants to make sure you’re all right.”
She read the screen.
All OK w the girl?
She took it out of his hands, oddly touched. “But he doesn’t even know me.”
“Nick’s like that. Always does the right thing.”
She glanced up from the phone, hearing the tension in his voice. “You still owe me a secret.”
“One is enough for tonight.” He took the phone back and tapped out a quick text. The phone chimed almost immediately, and he sighed and shoved it into his pocket before she could see what his brother had said.
She tried to figure out his expression. “You all right?”
His voice was closed off now. “I should probably take you home, before your dad sends out a search party.”
So that was that. She bit at her lip, wondering how to fix this.
He stood. “It’s late.”
Oh. Loud and clear. She nodded. “Okay.”
But when they were walking, he reached down and took her hand. “You doing anything tomorrow?”
His fingers were sending bolts of electricity up her arm, and she shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
He leaned down and brushed a kiss against her temple. “Maybe if you actually use that number I wrote in your notebook, we could figure something out.”
Gabriel sat in the car, staring up at his house for the second night in a row. The porch lights were on, but the lower level lights weren’t. The front step: empty. Both front windows on the second level were dark, but one was Chris’s and one was his, so that didn’t mean much.
He’d been tempted to drive to Hunter’s, but that would probably give Michael an excuse to report him for auto theft or something.
And then there was the subtle accusation in Nick’s second text message.
Gabriel pulled the phone out of his pocket and looked at it again, like he couldn’t remember three words.
You coming home?
Simple enough, but full of subtext. Did Nick expect him to be out all night? Was this a challenge? A warning that Nick would be waiting to hash things out?
And then there was Layne.
Christ, Gabriel could have sat in that parking lot with her all night. He’d never been with a girl so perfectly . . . imperfect. She got it. She got him. He’d been ready to tell her. About the fires, about everything. He’d warmed up to it, telling her about his parents’ deaths.
But then she’d told him about her scars. What was he supposed to say to that?
Funny thing: I actually started the fire that killed my parents.
Gabriel punched the steering wheel.
His cell phone chimed. Nick again.
You can come in. Mike is out.
What? Seriously? It was almost midnight. Curiosity was enough to shove Gabriel out of the car.
But when he made it to the second floor, he looked at Nick’s door sitting a few inches open. Alt rock music was on low, sneaking into the hallway. No feminine laughter. No Quinn.
Nick was waiting for him.
Gabriel hesitated. He wished those text messages had come with some kind of sign, whether Nick was pissed or exasperated or just completely done with him. Hell, a freaking emoticon would have been helpful.
His own room sat pitch-dark at the opposite end of the hallway. A black hole. Gabriel eased around the creaky spot in the floor and slid past his twin’s room. Once in his own, he flung his duffel bag onto the ground and shut the door, closing the dark around himself. He sighed and kicked his shoes into the well of blackness under the bed. Maybe Nick hadn’t heard him. Maybe he thought he was still out in the car.