“You are so predictable.”
Gabriel swore and fumbled for the light switch.
Nick was straddling his desk chair backward, his arms folded on the backrest.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Gabriel snapped. “Why are you sitting here in the dark?”
His twin shrugged. “Because I knew you’d walk right past my room.”
This would be easier if Nick wanted to start throwing punches.
Gabriel sighed. “Look. It’s late—”
“Did you get the girl home all right?”
“Layne. Her name is Layne. And yes.” Though he’d had to park three houses down to watch her walk up the sidewalk. He hesitated. “Thanks for letting me take the car.”
“You’re welcome.”
Silence clung to the air. Nick could read a lot from a silence, Gabriel knew. The air would whisper to him as strongly as fire did to Gabriel. That didn’t make gaps in strained conversation any easier to fill.
He fought not to fidget. “Where’s Michael?”
“He was meeting someone for coffee.” Nick shook his watch straight on his wrist. “That was at seven.”
Gabriel picked up on the note in his voice. “Someone?”
“He said it was an old friend from school.”
“A girl?”
“He didn’t say.”
Gabriel had a pretty good idea, anyway.
Then Nick offered, “He spent a long time getting ready. Said, and I quote, ‘Don’t wait up.’”
“That sneaky bastard.” Gabriel dropped onto the corner of his bed, bemused. “He’s going out with Hannah.”
Nick raised an eyebrow. “Who’s Hannah?”
Gabriel snapped his eyes up. That comment hammered home just how disconnected he’d been from Nick over the last few days.
If his twin didn’t know about Hannah, that meant Michael had kept his promise about the night Gabriel accidentally set the woods on fire.
But Gabriel couldn’t explain Hannah without revealing it himself.
Could he tell Nick about the fires?
No. Nick wouldn’t approve. He wouldn’t understand.
He’d tell Michael. They’d make him stop.
“Hannah is just a girl.” Gabriel couldn’t meet his brother’s eyes. He focused on the joints of the chair. “She used to go to school with Michael.”
Nick sighed, obviously not convinced. “All right, forget about Hannah. Forget about Layne, even. Keep your secrets, since you obviously can’t talk to me anymore.”
The last bit wasn’t said with spite or contempt—which Gabriel had been expecting. Just furious resignation, which was a hundred times worse.
“Look. Nicky—”
“I’m surprised you came home. Chris said you had a bag full of clothes.” Nick’s gaze went to the duffel bag Gabriel had dropped by the door.
“That’s not about you.” The words almost hurt to say.
“What’s it about, then?”
Every question was another tick toward an explosion, like a bomb counting down. It didn’t help that Nick was sitting there, completely implacable. “It’s about Michael.”
“You mean, because he thinks you’re starting fires?”
Gabriel flinched. But what could he say?
“It might help,” said Nick, “if you would deny it.”
“I shouldn’t have to deny it.” The lights flickered.
But that’s all. The power waited for direction. Gabriel held his breath.
Nick glanced up, and some of the anger leaked out of his voice. “You want to talk about it?”
Gabriel tried to dial back the power. Chill out.
It flickered again, almost a refusal—but then settled, easing back into a normal rhythm. Gabriel let a breath out. “No.”
“Fine.” Nick’s voice sharpened right back up. “You want to talk about why you couldn’t give me a heads up that we’d been accused of cheating?”
Oh. Damn.
“They said something to you?”
“Of course!” Nick straightened in the chair. Wind whipped through the screen to ruffle his hair. “Damn it, Gabriel, you might not give a crap if you graduate, but I sure do.”
Of course he cared. What did Nick think, that he was too stupid to bother? It took three tries to speak, and even then, it came out strangled. “When they asked you . . . what did you say?”
“I said I’d stop! What the hell do you think I said? You know, she asked if I was taking your tests in other classes. She said cheating was grounds for expulsion. She said this could go on my transcript—”
“Oh, who cares.” Gabriel snorted. “You think the people who hire us to plant perennials are going to check your high school transcript?”
“No, but colleges might.”
College? Shock almost shoved Gabriel off the bed. Nick had never said one word about doing anything more after high school than helping Michael with the family business. “You want to go to college?”
Now Nick looked sheepish. “Well. I knew you weren’t interested—”
“Where the hell are you going to get money for college?”
“I don’t know. There’s aid, and . . . look, I haven’t even applied yet. It’s just something I’m thinking about.”
When Nick thought about something, it wasn’t a whim. Nick would have schools in mind. He might be thinking about moving away.
Away.
Gabriel had spent two days barely saying a word to his twin, and it felt like water torture. He couldn’t imagine weeks passing. Months.
When they were little, they’d shared a room, a bed on each wall. For years, Gabriel had thought a twin bed meant only twins slept in them. If they dressed in the same pajamas—which had been almost every night—Mom would say they looked like a pair of bookends. Half the time, Gabriel would wake up in the morning to find Nick had climbed into bed with him sometime in the night.
Nick had grown out of that sometime in elementary school.
Only to start back up again when their parents died.
He didn’t do that anymore, of course. But now he was just one room down the hall.
Not down the road.
Or in another state.
Gabriel glared at him. His voice was tight, and probably sounded angry. “Why didn’t you say something?”
More wind streaked through the room, a good ten degrees colder than the last gust. “Yeah? When should I have said something? When you were insulting Quinn? Or maybe when you tried to burn the house down—”
“I did not try to burn the house down.” Gabriel was off the bed now, his hands curled into fists. Electricity pulsed in the walls, ready to flare.
The air turned cold enough to bite bare skin, thin and hard to breathe. “That’s right,” said Nick. “You don’t have to try, do you? You’re pretty good at destroying things all by your—”
“Enough.”
Gabriel jumped. Michael stood in the doorway, a hand braced on each side of the frame. His breath fogged in the air.
“Nick”—he sighed—“would you give us a minute?”
Nick disentangled himself from the chair, but he did it slowly, and the room didn’t get any warmer until he’d pushed past Michael to step into the hallway.
He didn’t glance back once. Not like Gabriel was looking.
Michael remained in the doorway. Gabriel didn’t want to look at him, either.
“You’re home,” said Michael.
“Yeah.” Gabriel picked at a thread on the cuff of his jeans. “Not out destroying any lives tonight.”
“Very funny.”
“How was your date?”
“It wasn’t a date.” Michael paused. “I was trying to make sure they’re not still investigating you.”