She drifted into silence, letting the rest remain unsaid. Calla might not be dead, but she hadn’t made a reappearance in town.

Maybe she’d moved on to start her war somewhere else.

Tyler held her for the longest time, but when he finally spoke, his voice was careful. “I know you don’t want to talk about it, but your mother—”

Quinn started to pull away. “You’re right. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Are you going to hide here forever?”

His voice was gentle, but it made her cry again. “I don’t know what to do. Would they arrest her? What would happen to me and Jordan?”

“I don’t know. But . . .” He paused. “She could have really hurt you, Quinn. Jesus, she did really hurt you. If she’d hit you a second time—”

“I’m not calling the cops. I’m not. If you want me to leave, fine. But I’m not—”

“Shh, take it easy. I’m not telling you to leave.”

“I just need a few days, okay? Let it blow over.”

Tyler stiffened. “You want to go back there?”

“She’s not always like that. If Jake is gone, maybe it won’t be so bad.”

Tyler sighed.

“Please?” she begged. Then she winced. This reminded her of the night she’d been in Nick’s truck, begging him for a place to sleep, too.

“Okay,” Tyler finally said. “We can give it a few days.”

She turned her face up and kissed him.

Tyler pulled back. “Quinn. Stop.”

She froze, then jerked away from him. “Forget it,” she cried, feeling fresh tears on her cheeks. She punched him in the chest.

“Forget it. I don’t need charity from—”

He caught her wrists and pinned them behind her back. The motion was so quick, so rough, that she almost cried out. It put her right against his chest, staring up into his eyes. “What do you want?” he said. “Is this how every guy treats you, like you have to pay to play? Tell me, Quinn.”

“Didn’t you hear her?” she said. “This is all I’m good for.”

“It’s not,” he whispered. “I promise you, it’s not.”

“No one wants me. I can’t even make someone want me.”

He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against hers.

“You poor, mixed-up girl.”

“Fuck you. If you don’t want me, then let me go.”

“You’re funny. You have no idea how hard it was to act honorably when you were parading around here in your under-wear.”

She snorted. “Like you know how to act honorably.”

He froze, then released her. He grabbed the beer from the counter and headed back to the living room. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s watch a movie. Grab some snacks if you want.”

Quinn stared at his retreating back. “A movie? That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

She couldn’t keep up with his rapidly shifting emotions, but maybe he felt exactly the same about her. He was already flipping on the television, searching through the pay-per-view list-ings.

“What do you feel like?” he said.

“Slasher flick,” she said.

He rolled his eyes and settled on a romantic comedy.

Quinn groaned. “These are cheesy.”

“Sweetheart, I think you’re overdue for something cheesy.”

She hesitated by the couch, but he opened his arms like he’d done on the porch, and she snuggled into the warmth of his body, inhaling the scent of him.

Later, when she was almost asleep on his chest, she murmured, “I’ll keep your secret.”

“You don’t need to.” He stroked a hand through her hair—

the most intimate thing he’d done all night. “You keep enough secrets. I’m definitely not asking you to keep mine.”

CHAPTER 21

Nick had thought his physics test was bad on Tuesday. He probably should have stuck with that score. This was impossible. He couldn’t think straight. He had no idea what he was writing on the paper.

And he didn’t care.

His pencil moved, but his mind was elsewhere. Adam wasn’t responding to his texts. Well, he’d responded to one this morning, when Nick finally begged him to confirm he’d got home all right.

I’m home.

And that was it. Nick almost would have preferred the silence. Now he knew Adam was getting his texts and choosing not to respond.

Quinn was no better. He’d tracked her down in the hall this morning, but she’d turned her back on him and said she’d talk to him later.

But not before he’d caught a glimpse of the new bruise on her cheek.

What. The. Hell.

He’d tried to catch up to her, but she’d disappeared into a classroom, and the teacher had all but closed the door in his face.

And of course texts demanding to know what had happened had been hopeless. No one would respond to him, it seemed.

He didn’t want to be around his brothers, with Chris suspecting something and Gabriel being an ass**le and Hunter knowing everything but keeping quiet. At least Michael was swamped with work, and he hadn’t resumed the prying.

Nick turned to the last physics test question and sighed. He didn’t have a chance.

He gave it his best shot anyway, hoping for partial credit.

Yeah, right.

Luckily, Dr. Cutter was speaking with another student when Nick brought the test up to his desk. He turned it over, placing it facedown on the desk blotter.

Then he walked out of the room, feeling the pinch of guilt between his shoulder blades.

He had never failed a test. Ever.

And now he’d done it twice.

He couldn’t go to the cafeteria—not like he wanted to eat anything anyway. He shifted his backpack and headed for the library.

While he walked, he scrolled through the texts from Adam until he found the picture he’d sent himself.

His eyes blurred, and he blinked moisture away. God, he’d been such an idiot.

His phone vibrated in his hand, making his heart leap.

Not Adam. Michael.

I hate to ask, but can you help with a job tonight?

Nick sighed.

But what else did he have to do? He texted back quickly.

Sure.

By the end of the day, he was regretting it. Tension was making him surly and snappish. Janette Morrits asked for a pencil in seventh period and he just about flung it in her face. Teachers responded to his attitude with lectures to pay attention, to focus, that they expected more.

Every snicker, every giggle, every stupid use of the word g*y or fag had his head whipping around.

Maybe Hunter changed his mind and told everyone. Maybe they’re all talking about me.

He found himself wishing he sat in the back of every room, instead of the front.

No, he found himself wishing he’d cut school.

At the final bell, he stormed out the side door. He didn’t want to ride home with his brothers. He didn’t want to work a job with Michael.

Cars were lined up illegally in the fire lane, parents who couldn’t be bothered to sit through the heavier traffic on the other side of school. But trees lined the grounds beyond those vehicles, dense woods that led the way home. Nick headed for the crosswalk. He’d cut through the woods and clear his head.

Maybe after three miles of fresh air, he could get it together to spend a few hours slinging pavestone or planting bushes or whatever Michael needed help with.

Heavy clouds swarmed the sky, trapping cold air near the ground. Or maybe he was doing that. He cast his senses far, feeding power into his element. Reckless and dangerous, but he didn’t care. Wind whipped through his hair, feeding on his temper to blow loose debris along the curb. A notebook flipped open to spill papers across the quad. Girls shrieked and scurried to catch them.

Rain spit at his face, and Nick pulled up the hood of his sweatshirt. It kept out the cold and his classmates, especially since not too many students came out this side of the building.

The hoodie didn’t keep out sound, however. A car door slammed; then a voice called out as he slid between two sedans.

“Windy out, huh, douche bag?”

The air brought the words right to him. Nick stopped and lowered the hood. Tyler stood by the curb, two cars up, leaning against his truck.

What was he doing here? Nick gritted his teeth and balled his hands into fists.

He hated that his first thought was to wish Gabriel was here.

Especially when Tyler moved away from his truck to approach him.

Thunder rumbled through the sky overhead. Wind blasted Nick in the face and pulled at his clothes. He called for more, asking his element to rip Tyler’s face clean off.

Nick knew better than to fight him physically. Tyler fought dirty enough to give Gabriel a run for his money. Nick couldn’t suffocate him, either, not with his senses so scattered. The wind pulled his power in too many directions. Thunder cracked and rolled again.

He begged for cold, and the next blast of wind was downright arctic.

“Go away, Tyler,” he said, keeping his voice low. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

Tyler laughed in his face. “I’m not allowed to pick up a girl?”

Nick froze. Was Tyler here for Quinn?

Then Nick thought of that second bruise on Quinn’s cheek, and he started forward. Quinn was exactly the type of girl to fall in with someone like Tyler, someone who’d make promises to take care of her, but would then turn around and backhand her across the face. He thought of Adam’s history, and fury made his voice tight. “You leave her alone. She has enough problems without you screwing around with her.”

Tyler shoved him back. “Yeah, and what do you know about it?”

“I’ve seen enough. You keep your hands off her.”

“Jealous?” sneered Tyler. “That’s funny.” Then he hit Nick in the chest again, hard enough to knock him back, toward the woods.

Nick shoved him back, feeling his wind pick up fistfuls of twigs and rocks to pelt them at Tyler.

Bonus: twigs and rocks pelted Tyler’s truck, too.

Nick had the satisfaction of seeing Tyler fall back a step, an arm raised to protect his eyes. A rock hit his face and drew blood. Then a small branch hit his upraised arm with enough force to tear his shirt—and the skin below it. Nick caught the scent of blood on the wind.

Tyler surged forward to grab Nick’s arm. “Cold out. Maybe I should light something on fire.”

Nick swung a fist and called for stronger wind, but Tyler ducked and caught his wrist. They struggled, but Tyler had him by a good thirty pounds. He twisted Nick’s arm until Nick thought his elbow might give out.

More thunder, more wind. Trees began to sway.

Tyler applied more pressure. “Aw,” he said. “Is that painful?”

Yeah. It was.

“Fuck you,” Nick gasped. He remembered a time when he was younger, when Tyler had trapped him after gym class, when he’d pinned him much like this to let Seth Ramsey beat the shit out of him.

God, he hated this guy. He hated his own fear more.

Wind tore between them, stinging Nick’s cheeks, pelting him with the same debris he was using to attack Tyler. But then his gusts began to pull into a spiral, almost against his will. The clouds overhead shifted. In a minute, he’d have a tornado. His power was always like this—no middle ground. Lively breeze one moment, massively destructive weather event the next.

At least Gabriel’s fire needed something to burn. Air was everywhere.

He needed to rein this in before he leveled the school.

Tyler smiled. “Guess what, douchebag? You don’t get to play like that anymore.” He tightened his grip on Nick’s wrist.

And then flame curled from under his hand.

Fire bit through fabric to find skin, and Nick yelled, fighting like mad. His sweatshirt was on fire, a flame trapped beneath Tyler’s fingers. Nothing anyone else could see. The burn clouded his senses, eating into his arm like something alive.