For some reason, that was infuriating. “So you’re just stringing her along to find out what she knows? Christ, Michael, that’s kind of a dickhead move—”
“You want to tell me what’s really going on?”
“There’s nothing going on.” At least this was a brother he could fight with. Gabriel stood. Got close. “I’m home. Go spend your worry on someone else.”
Michael didn’t move.
Gabriel shoved him. “Go.”
He watched Michael draw himself up, ready to hit back. But then his brother just shifted toward the door. “Thanks.”
Nonplussed, Gabriel stared after him. “For what?”
His brother paused with the door halfway closed. “For coming home. I’m glad you did.”
Then the door clicked shut, closing Gabriel in.
And closing his brothers out.
CHAPTER 25
Saturdays usually meant landscaping work with Michael. The hell with that.
Since he had the car keys, Gabriel was out the door before anyone else was up. He threw the duffel bag in the backseat, just in case. Nick could use those college-bound brains to figure out a way to get around.
Gabriel grabbed a cup of coffee and a breakfast sandwich from Dunkin’ Donuts, but that didn’t kill any more than fifteen minutes. He decided to test the bounds of friendship.
Do you want to practice today?
Hunter’s return text took a minute.
Are you seriously texting me at 6 am?
Gabriel smiled.
Thought you might be up for a 10 mile run before we light hay bales on fire. Go back to bed, slacker.
He set the phone down and took another sip of coffee.
His phone chimed almost immediately. Gabriel glanced at the display and nearly choked on that sip.
Sounds good. Give me 15 mins.
They ran on the B&A Trail, a paved track that stretched from Annapolis nearly to Baltimore. This early in the morning, it was mostly deserted aside from a few lone cyclists and joggers out to take advantage of the chill in the air.
After the fourth mile, Gabriel glanced over. Hunter had looked a little bleary eyed when he’d picked him up, and he hadn’t said much in the car, but he was keeping up without any trouble.
Then again, they weren’t breaking any records. “You know, I was kidding,” said Gabriel. “We don’t have to run ten miles.”
Hunter didn’t slow. “What, you’re tired already?”
Gabriel was, a little. He’d run hard yesterday, and he was going on his third restless night.
“Just making sure you can keep up. Thought you might have had a late night with Calla Dean.”
A wry glance. “Don’t worry.” Then Hunter stepped up the pace.
Bastard. Gabriel pushed to keep up. He was fit. He could do this, no problem.
“You know,” he said, “Becca tried to talk to me last night.” He glanced over. “About the fires.”
“She tries to talk to me, too.” A pause to catch his breath. “She wants to know if I know what you’re doing.”
“What do you tell her?”
“I tell her you suck at Xbox.” Another pause, another break for breath. “I think her dad’s putting pressure on her.”
“Because of the Guides?”
“Yeah. But we’re being careful.”
“Are you worried?”
“Does it matter? I can’t sit around doing nothing. Could you?”
Gabriel thought about that for a minute. “No. I couldn’t.” Then he had to shut up, because Hunter stepped up the pace again.
Beyond the seventh mile, Gabriel was really starting to feel it. They were holding a seven-minute-mile pace, and his legs ached. His lungs burned. That stitch in his side that had been a minor irritant at mile three now felt like a red-hot iron poker.
The one time he wanted to pull energy from the sun, and the sky was overcast.
“If you want to stop,” said Hunter, with zero strain in his voice, “I can swing back for you when I’m done.”
“We’ll see who’s lying in a pile at the end of the trail.”
“Race you to the car?”
“Yeah, I’ll wait for you at the car.”
And then, though his legs screamed in protest, Gabriel leapt forward into a sprint.
Damn, it felt good to compete, to do something he could control. He hadn’t realized how much he’d miss the easy camaraderie of a team, the physical strain of working toward one common purpose. On the field or on the course, or hell, here on the trail, the objective was clear. Make a basket. Put the ball in the goal. Win the race.
Pass the test?
Gabriel wondered if that’s why this guy was starting these fires. It was so much easier to send things on a path toward destruction.
At the turnoff for the parking lot at the trailhead, Gabriel didn’t slow. Hunter was right there, not letting up. They veered around a couple with bikes, almost trampled a mother navigating a jogging stroller, and shot onto the parking lot, spraying pea gravel with every step.
He stretched out a hand to slap the tailgate of the SUV.
Right at the same time as Hunter.
“Damn it,” he gasped.
At least Hunter was breathing as hard as he was, his hands braced on his knees. “All right. Another five miles?”
“Shut up.” Gabriel smiled.
They dug for change in the center console and bought bottles of water from the machine at the ranger station by the trailhead. Then they collapsed in the grass under an oak tree. The sun was starting to break free of the clouds, and Gabriel pushed damp strands of hair off his face.
“Figures,” he said. “Now the sun comes out.”
Hunter took a long pull of water. “Do you usually run with Nick?”
“Nah. He’ll go if I drag him out of the house, but not for any kind of distance. Chris will run in the spring, when baseball starts.”
Hunter peeled at the label on his bottle. “I used to run with my dad.”
“Was he slow, too?”
That earned a smile and a punch in the arm. “No.” A pause. “We were going to run the Marine Corps marathon this year.”
Gabriel recognized that hollow note in Hunter’s voice. Sometimes he had to fight to keep it out of his own.
Hunter shrugged. “Really, I forgot all about it, what with moving here and all.” He hesitated. “Last night, I got an e-mail with the details, when to pick up the packets, stuff like that. I deleted it—I mean, you know.”
Gabriel nodded and kept his eyes on his own water bottle. “Yeah.”
“Then you texted me this morning and asked if I wanted to run ten miles, and—”
“Shit.” Gabriel straightened. Another day, off to a raring start with a fuckup. “Man, I’m sorry. I didn’t—”
“No!” Hunter looked at him, hard. “I’m glad. It was . . . good.”
“All right.” Gabriel settled back and stared at the sky. It was almost eight now, and more reasonable runners were starting to pack into the lot. The sun felt heavy on his face, and he let the energy pour into his skin.
“It gets easier,” he said.
“Yeah?” Hunter’s voice was skeptical. “When?”
“I’ll let you know when it happens for me.”
Hunter snorted, but there was zero humor behind it.
“You could still run the race,” said Gabriel.
“It’s a month away. I’m not in shape.”
“I didn’t say you could win the race.”