But he stood. “I hate to leave you alone, but I need to head in to the office. My afternoon appointments were rescheduled for this evening, so . . .”
And she tuned him out.
She was back to square one. Familiar ground.
Alone.
The basketball game should have been dramatic, what with Ryan Stacey confined to the bench and Simon starting center. Poetic justice would have dictated that the stands be packed, with Simon making the winning shot in the last seconds.
But it was only JV, and the first game of the season, so the bleachers weren’t crowded. The other team sucked and was barely organized enough to move the ball down the court.
But Simon was great. They were in the lead from the first shot.
And they won the game by twenty-two points.
“You said he can’t hear?” said Hunter as they filed off the stands. He’d stayed for the whole game. “You couldn’t prove it by me.”
Gabriel snorted and tossed his soda can into the recycling bin by the door. “Let’s hope the coach feels the same way.”
He’d been worried Hunter would judge him—for the fire at the barn, for telling Nick, for something else he couldn’t quite identify. But Hunter had been steady as ever, listening as Gabriel rehashed his morning from a nearly empty section of the bleachers.
And then he’d said what he always did. “You want to stop?”
Gabriel didn’t.
He couldn’t. Even now, even after this morning, he could feel need burning under his skin, like a junkie going through withdrawal.
He wished he had his lighter.
They waited outside the gym to congratulate Simon, kicking at loose gravel as kids streamed through the doors around them. Mostly students first, finishing up after-school projects and clubs. Then the JV cheerleaders, arm in arm and giggling as they half danced across the parking lot to the activity busses. Then basketball kids, half damp from the showers, but high-fiving over the win.
When the flow of students dropped to a bare trickle, Gabriel wondered if he’d somehow missed Layne’s little brother.
But he hadn’t seen Ryan Stacey either.
Gabriel swore and went for the doors—but on this side of the school, the doors were locked to the outside. He pounded, but no one answered—of course, since he’d stood here like an idiot watching everyone leave.
“Come on,” he said to Hunter, turning to sprint for the front entrance.
“What happened?”
“Ryan Stacey.”
They tore through the halls, shoes squeaking on tile as they skidded around corners. A teacher yelled at them to stop running, but Gabriel didn’t recognize her and they were well past before the words registered in his brain.
The gym: empty, aside from a few girls hanging a banner for a bake sale next week.
The locker room: empty. Boys’ bathroom: empty.
Gabriel swore again. The school was huge—they could be anywhere.
“Wait.” Hunter caught his arm. Gabriel froze and listened for a moment, but he didn’t hear anything.
Hunter stepped across the narrow hallway and pushed on the door to the girls’ locker room, opening it a few inches. The lights were off, revealing a well of shadowed tile and the edge of a trash can, but he yelled through the gap. “Anyone in here?”
Silence.
Hunter hit the light switch. Pink tile came to life, leading to pink steel lockers.
Empty—but Hunter strode forward anyway, rounding the corner into the girls’ shower area. That’s where they found Simon, shivering behind one of the pink shower curtains, sporting a black eye and a split lip.
And absolutely no clothes.
CHAPTER 34
Layne had never been a clock-watcher in class. Now it seemed every class took sixteen hours, the minutes ticking by until she could see Gabriel.
She still couldn’t sort her feelings about him. Anger, at what had happened? She had no idea whether that was his fault. Curiosity? Absolutely. Intrigue, for certain.
Fury. Fear.
Desire. Longing.
All of it.
This morning had been torture. She’d woken before sunrise, as usual. Her hands had gone immediately to her side, seeking the familiar foreign texture, sure she’d dreamed that part.
Nope. The scars were still gone.
How?
She couldn’t go to the farm—the surviving horses had already been trailered to another facility ten miles away for the time being. She couldn’t call Gabriel, not with her father still monitoring her cell phone every minute. He was already on edge enough from Simon’s black eye.
It had taken every ounce of Layne’s restraint to keep her mouth shut—instead of reminding her father that she’d suggested they go to the game. That if they’d been there, Simon could have just walked out with them, instead of relying on some other kid to drop him at home after god-knew-what happened. Simon wouldn’t have had a black eye—and he wouldn’t have had a reason to lock himself in his room without explaining it.
But now, finally, the bell was ringing, signaling the end of second period.
Layne bolted for math class.
And Gabriel’s seat, of course, was empty.
She stood there in the doorway, dismayed. Had he been hurt yesterday, and she just didn’t know about it?
Or maybe this was intentional. Maybe he’d ditched class.
Maybe he didn’t want to see her.
Her hands curled into fists. Disappointment felt just as crushing as the fury that had her pressing fingernails into her palms. As usual, she wanted to hit him and hug him at the same time.
If only he’d show up.
“Layne.”
She spun around, hands still clenched, ready to swing.
Gabriel caught her wrists, his fingers gentle through the sleeves of her turtleneck.
But then he just held her there. He didn’t push her away—or pull her closer. His voice was rough, low, just for her. “Don’t hit me.”
She stared up into his blue eyes, so close and full of emotion.
It took a minute to find her voice. Six billion questions had been rattling around her head all morning, and now all she could manage was, “Why?”
Gabriel winced, almost imperceptibly. “Well, at least wait until after school. Then you can beat the crap out of me if you want.” His hands slipped free, releasing her. “Fighting in class is an automatic one-day suspension.”
She swallowed. Now that he stood right in front of her, she was terrified to ask.
No, she was terrified of the answers.
Students were pushing through the doorway. Gabriel moved fractionally closer. “You all right?”
Layne kept flashing on that moment on the hill when the sunlight had danced along her skin, and Gabriel had kissed a path across her stomach, stealing her breath and her fears and making her feel perfect for the first time.
And then her sanctuary—their sanctuary—had gone up in smoke.
She pulled his lighter out of her pocket and held it out. “I think I need you to tell me.”
A panicked look crossed his face. He snatched it out of her hand and slid it into his pocket. And then he was even closer, leaning in to speak right to her ear. “Getting caught with one of those is an automatic suspension, too.”
His breath tickled her neck. She shivered.
Focus.
“Truth?” he whispered.
She nodded. “I want to know everything.”
The second bell rang, and Layne jerked back. Her heart was in her throat.
“Free period?” he said.
“Yeah,” she choked.
Then Ms. Anderson was coming through the door, urging them to their seats, calling the class to order.