“I don’t think that’s the kind of attention she’s looking for.”
Gabriel shoveled another mouthful of macaroni into his mouth. “Oh, you mean you didn’t spend the whole evening showing her your Arabic tattoo collection?”
“Farsi. And I don’t have a collection. Just this one.” He pointed to the inside of his elbow.
“What’s it say?”
“Nothing important.” Hunter nodded toward Calla, who must have grabbed something easy, because she was already paying. “What do you want to do about the fires?”
Gabriel scowled. It was easier talking girls. “I don’t know.”
Hunter’s voice was careful. “Do you want to stop?”
“No.” Gabriel glanced across the cafeteria, at where his brothers were sitting. Chris and Becca, Nick and Quinn. He hadn’t spoken to any of them since he’d spent Sunday sleeping off the effects of Saturday’s fire. “For the first time, I feel like I’m doing something right.”
CHAPTER 30
Almost by accident, Layne found her days falling into an easy routine.
It shouldn’t have been easy, what with the catcalls in the hallway at school, the jokes about scars and burn fetishes. The worst was when she didn’t know what they were talking about—then it was embarrassing and humiliating.
Then Gabriel would appear at her shoulder and she’d remember she wasn’t alone.
Every day, they spent fifth period in the library, going through the day’s math assignment. Gabriel was getting better. He wasn’t fast, but he was trying. She could see it in the classroom, too. Instead of slouching in his seat, scowling at the board, he was actually paying attention. When he dropped his homework in the basket on Ms. Anderson’s desk, he did it almost defiantly, like throwing down a gauntlet.
He’d be back on the basketball team in no time.
In a way, it made Layne sad. Because now, after the last bell rang, he sat with her on the bleachers and watched Simon’s basketball practice. In a few weeks, he’d be in practice himself, and she’d be sitting here alone.
At first, Gabriel would make little comments to her, about what Simon needed to do to improve. When Simon would glance up at them, Layne would translate Gabriel’s remarks into quick signs.
When Gabriel realized what she was doing, he asked her to show him the signs, too.
She’d almost fallen off the bleachers. No one had ever asked her to teach sign language.
So she’d shown him some basics, for the most common criticisms he was shouting out, blushing as his eyes held hers while she moved his fingers into the right formation.
But afternoons in the school gym couldn’t compare to the mornings at the farm. She’d always loved the cool silence, the easy solitude when it was just her and the horses. But now each moment carried a hint of anticipation.
Gabriel had shown up every morning.
He always looked deliciously sexy, his hair tousled from the run, a night’s worth of stubble along his jaw. He told her it took twice as long to get to the farm as it did to get home. When she’d given him a puzzled look, he’d almost blushed and said, “I don’t want to be a sweaty mess when I get here.” Then he’d kissed her for so long that she’d forgotten her name, and he’d whispered against her cheek, “But it’s okay if I’m a sweaty mess when I leave . . .”
But he never pushed her, never demanded more than she was ready to give. His hands never ventured outside of those safety zones, never even tried to get past her clothing. If her body stiffened at his touch, he backed off.
But now, after days of being good, her imagination was starting to get the worst of her. What if Gabriel felt her scars and thought she was disgusting? Talking about them in theory was a lot different from seeing red, puckered skin running up the side of her abdomen.
Thursday morning, they were lying on a grassy hill some distance behind the barn. Her horse was grazing a few yards away, a rope trailing from his halter. The air was crisp, but the sun warmed her cheeks, making her drowsy. She didn’t want to close her eyes, in case there was any chance she’d open them to find out it was still Sunday morning, that this week was just a dream.
The horse snorted at a butterfly, but then went back to grazing.
Gabriel turned his head to look at her. “Why doesn’t he run away?”
Layne gave a short laugh. “I keep asking myself the same thing about you.”
He rolled up onto one elbow to look down at her. It put the sun behind him and made his hair fall into his eyes. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Someone pinch me.
“Seriously,” he said, glancing over at where her horse was yanking tufts of grass out of the ground. “Is he trained like a dog?”
Layne giggled. “No. Horses are herd animals. If he ran anywhere, he’d go back to the barn.” Though really, if the barn manager caught her lying out here with the horse running loose, the woman would probably have a word or two to say about it.
“Like that day on the trail,” said Gabriel.
Layne nodded. “The day you ran.”
He snorted. “You scared me off with that . . . that hug.”
She almost laughed at his tone, but then remembered the whole reason she’d thrown her arms around his neck in the first place. He’d looked so stricken, so sad. Even now, she could see shards of emotion in his eyes.
Despite the amount of time they’d spent together, she was still no closer to discovering his secrets.
And he was a master at keeping them hidden.
It had to do with his family; she knew that much. She never saw him with his brothers, but talking about them was just about the only thing to turn his voice sharp. No matter how much she loved his company, she couldn’t help wondering if he was spending time with her so he could avoid spending time with them. Even in the mornings, he stretched the minutes as long as possible, until she knew he must be practically sprinting home to make it to school in time.
She reached up and pushed the hair out of his eyes. He turned his head to kiss her wrist.
Layne had to remind herself to focus. “What’s it like, having a twin?”
He closed his eyes and gave a tight sigh. “I never know how to answer that question.” He paused. “I mean, what’s it like not having one?”
“Come on,” she teased, trying to lighten his mood. “Do you finish each other’s sentences? Feel each other’s pain?”
He snorted, obviously not playing. “No.”
“Are you and Nick still not speaking?”
He shrugged a little.
She could feel him distancing himself again. “Why won’t you tell me what happened?”
Now his eyes turned hard. “Why do you care?”
She matched his tone. “Why shouldn’t I care?”
He was going to fire back; she could tell. She braced herself for words sparked with anger.
But then he just sighed and rolled back to the ground to lie beside her. “I’m not even sure where to start. He brought Quinn home for dinner, and I just . . . I picked a fight. I’m not even sure why.”
“Did you like her?”
“No, no, nothing like that. But we hardly ever fight, and this one—it got out of control. I almost . . . it could have been bad. Mike and Chris broke it up. Hunter, too.”