Michael winced. “Look, we’ll be okay through the winter.

Mom and Dad had life insurance, and there’s not a lot left, but there’s some. I try not to touch it, because I never know when we’ll have a real emergency, but it’s more than enough to fill in the cracks. Besides, Dad always said to have three months in savings as a reserve, so I’ve got that, too.”

Nick stared at him.

“What?” said Michael.

“Nothing.” Nick rubbed at the back of his neck. For months, he’d worried about the finances, had felt a personal obligation to make sure the business brought in as much cash as possible.

He’d seen the bottom line of the business creep closer and closer toward the red as they took bigger jobs and needed more supplies. He’d worried about college and leaving his brothers without help.

He’d had no idea that Michael had a safety net.

“I wish you’d said something,” said Michael.

“I didn’t want to stress you out.”

“Please. That’s like a constant state of being.”

The waitress brought their drinks, followed by the basket of onion rings and the steamed shrimp that Michael had ordered for appetizers.

Nick stared at the food and realized he was starving.

“Go ahead,” said Michael. “I knew you’d change your mind once it was in front of you.”

Nick grabbed a shrimp and started peeling. It felt better to have something to do with his hands. At least he couldn’t check his phone every ten seconds.

“Sometimes I forget,” Michael said slowly while peeling his own shrimp, “that you’re the same age as Gabriel, and not the same age as me.”

“You mean, aside from the fact that we’re identical and all?”

Michael gave him a rueful look. “No, I mean sometimes I forget that you’re still just as much a kid as he is.”

Nick peeled another shrimp and didn’t say anything to that.

“That’s not an insult,” said Michael.

“Oh. Okay.”

“Actually . . .” began Michael—but he stopped there. He ran a hand across his newly short hair. Gabriel had asked him when he was shipping out, but Nick liked it. It made Michael look older, more serious and less angry.

Nick hadn’t said so. Stupidly, he felt like any acknowledg-ment of a guy’s looks would show his hand.

He kept his eyes on his food. “Actually what?”

“Sometimes I forget to pay attention.”

“Attention to what?”

“To you. I think I’ve got a pretty good handle on Chris and Gabriel. I know when they’re veering off the rails. You’re a little more challenging.”

Nick met his eyes. “I’m all right, Michael. I’ll work it out.”

Michael picked up an onion ring. “See, that’s why you’re tough to crack. Even keeled, nothing wrong. I’d almost buy it if I hadn’t frozen my ass off on the drive here.”

“I was just pissed at Tyler.”

“Yeah, and who else?”

“I really don’t feel like sitting through an interrogation.”

Michael shrugged. “I’m not interrogating you. Talk or not.”

“Not.”

So they ate in silence. When the waitress brought platters of ribs, Michael thanked her, but Nick remained silent.

He wished Michael had pushed. Did everyone think he had it all together? He felt like his life was a hot mess of lies and secrets and betrayals.

Quinn.

His fury had faded, but now he felt bewildered. Why had she told Tyler? Why? Why was she spending time with him? Was he the one who’d hit her in the face?

Or was Nick misreading everything?

He used his fork to pull a new section of ribs apart and kept his eyes on his plate. “Will you tell me what really happened with Tyler and Emily, that day at the quarry?”

They’d been silent for at least fifteen minutes, and Michael set his food down and wiped his hands. His voice was soft, but not empty. “You know what happened, Nick.”

“I know she—” He stopped and cleared his throat. He knew she’d died. He knew what had happened after. Not the details of before. Suddenly this felt cruel, making his brother relive it.

“Never mind.”

“No, I’ll tell you.” Michael hesitated. “She worked the counter at that sports place on Mountain Road. I always used the batting cages. Remember, I used to take you guys there?”

Nick did remember. He hadn’t thought about it for years, but he remembered learning how to hold a bat, how to swing. It was one of the few sports he’d played better than Gabriel. He didn’t like playing baseball, not really, but he’d liked swinging the bat in those cages. He didn’t recognize it then, but he knew now: the air had told him everything. The speed of the ball, when to swing.

“She hated me,” Michael continued. “At least at first. She tried to chase me out of there—even had her parents call Mom and Dad and threaten them. I just wanted to play ball. I was pissed. Split a crack down the middle of the parking lot, right in front of her. The deal was brand new. I thought she’d turn me in for sure.”

“She didn’t?”

Michael shook his head, then smiled a little sadly. “She didn’t.

It started . . . something.”

Nick didn’t smile, because he knew how this story ended.

“Something.”

“We never went out or anything. It never got that far. Just . . .

there was something there. But then there was her family, too.

Tyler was young, but he had a lot of friends. They hid in the back of the truck and jumped me. Tyler put a butane lighter against my face and I couldn’t control myself. I almost killed them.”

“But you didn’t.”

Michael’s expression tightened. “No, I didn’t, and I’ve wondered a thousand times how that day would have ended differently if I’d killed them right then.”

The waitress appeared beside their table. “Can I bring you anything else?”

Michael cleared his throat. “I would really, really like a beer.

Anything on tap.”

She hustled off.

“First time I haven’t gotten carded,” said Michael.

“Haircut,” said Nick.

“I owe you.” Michael paused and his voice resumed its former gravity. “We ran. Emily and me. We took a trail down to the back side of the quarry. Tyler and his friends chased us. We jumped in the water and swam like hell. She wasn’t a strong swimmer, but I knew if we could get near the other kids who were swimming on the far side, they’d have to back off.”

He shook his head. “They didn’t. We made it, but they were right there. I could feel the rocks overhead were loose, but I thought we were okay.”

He stopped and took a breath. Nick studied him. “Mike—

you don’t have to tell me this.”

“It’s all right. She—she went back to them. We were there in the water, near the wall, facing off. There were six of them, and Emily was a tiny girl. I think—I think she thought they’d go away and leave me alone if she went with them. She swam toward them before I could stop her, going to Tyler. I remember him looking at me, all victorious, like she’d run from me. I know that wasn’t it. She was trying to protect me.”

He went quiet for so long that Nick wasn’t sure he was going to keep talking.

“So what happened?”

Michael glanced up. “She never got a chance to say anything.

The rocks fell. I tried to stop it, but I wasn’t strong enough—or maybe I just wasn’t fast enough. They hit her and two of the other kids. I went down to get her, and came up with one of them. Same thing again. By the third time I went under, I only found her body. I knew it looked like I’d killed her.” He paused.

“I ran home. You remember.”

Nick did remember. “Wow.”

“Yeah, no kidding.”

The waitress returned with a glass and set it in front of Michael before rushing off again.

Nick had no idea where she was going so fast. The restaurant was deserted. It was barely four. Maybe she’d picked up on the tension.

“Tyler blames me,” Michael said. “I don’t fight him, because I get it. I blame me, too.” His eyes narrowed. “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to let him beat the crap out of you guys. Seriously, Nick. What’s going on with Tyler? Why did you want to know about Emily?”

Nick clasped his hands under the table and shook his head.

He couldn’t talk about Tyler without talking about all of it.

“Quinn asked me,” he offered. “I didn’t know all the details.”

“Oh, right. Quinn. Your girlfriend.”

Nick couldn’t figure out the note in his voice. Talking didn’t seem safe now. He took a sip of his soda.

Had Michael heard what Tyler said? Maybe Chris had said something? Hunter?

Michael leaned in. “I wish you’d talk to me, Nick.” He hesitated, as if choosing his words carefully. “I’m not going to judge you.”

Nick’s eyes snapped to his. His heart pulsed against his rib cage. “What does that mean?”

“It means you don’t have to go through this alone.”

He knew. He had to know. How did he know? Nick rubbed his hands over his face, worried his dinner might make a reappearance if he couldn’t calm down. The restaurant simultane-ously felt too cold and too hot.

The waitress came by the table to remove their plates, then left a tiny folder with the check.

Michael didn’t reach for it. “Look,” he said quietly, “I’m not going to say I know what it’s like to be in your position.”

“Lucky you.”

“You have a choice, Nick, about—”

“You think there’s a choice here?” Nick almost couldn’t speak through the sudden rage in his throat. “You think I would choose this?”

“Calm down. I’m trying to talk to you.”

Nick could barely keep his voice level. He’d been ready for anger and disappointment, but he hadn’t expected closed-mindedness. He shoved out of the booth. “Fuck you, Michael.

I don’t want to talk to you.”

Michael grabbed his wrist. His voice was low and equally angry. “Damn it, Nick, grow up. There’s a time limit here. If Quinn is pregnant, you need to get your shit together and talk to someone.”

Wait.

Wait.

Wait.

Nick turned around, his eyes wide. “You think Quinn is pregnant?”

Michael stared back at him. “She’s not?”

“No. She’s not.” Nick sat back down.

Michael blew out a long breath. “Thank god. That—I just—

wow.”

“Crisis averted, right?” Nick could barely keep the bitterness out of his voice. Of course Michael hadn’t guessed right.

“Something like that.” Michael pulled a credit card out of his wallet and slid it into the folder.

Nick couldn’t stop the disappointment tightening his chest.

As much as he’d hated thinking Michael would be such an idiot as to believe sexuality was a choice, there’d been a measure of relief in not having to tell him.

Now they were back to square one. And they were leaving. In half an hour, he’d be at home, feeling more alone than ever.

The waitress took the leather folder and zipped away.

And Michael just seemed relieved. Quinn wasn’t pregnant, nothing else could be wrong. Reliable Nick always had a handle on everything, and wasn’t an unplanned pregnancy like the worst thing he could possibly face?

Nick didn’t want to look at his brother anymore. Being wrong wasn’t Michael’s fault—but it felt like it. “Why would you think that?” he asked, his voice quiet.

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