“He was a dick to start with.” Gabriel’s blue eyes were intense and almost frightening. “And I’m not real crazy about getting accused of rape in the first thirty seconds I meet someone.”

“Wow, you’re really good at this apology stuff.”

He took a long breath and didn’t look away like he was gathering his temper, or his mettle, or . . . something.

“I am sorry,” he said, “for upsetting you.”

He meant it. She could feel it. It cost him something to say it, and the little tugs in her chest were begging her to nod, to forgive him, to acknowledge that there were many things unsaid, on both sides of this conversation.

She didn’t move.

Gabriel moved a bit closer. “I’m sorry, Layne. Really.”

His voice was low and rough, and this close, she could make out each individual eyelash, the line of his cheekbone, the bare start of shadow across his jaw. She felt ready to slide down the lockers and melt into a puddle at his feet.

But she couldn’t stop thinking about her father’s warnings last night, about an outlet. Her dad was right. Falling for a guy like Gabriel would end up with her hurt and her secrets all over school.

“So,” she said, feeling her throat close up, “is this when girls usually fall all over you and forgive you for everything?”

He jerked back like she’d hit him.

God, she regretted it immediately. His eyes went dark, walled off. Closed. A second ago, the distance between them had felt like an inch; now it felt like a mile.

But then he glanced down the hallway and back at her. He almost had a small smile on his face. “A friend just told me I pick a fight every time someone gets close to figuring me out.”

She swallowed.

Gabriel leaned in again, putting a hand on the locker beside her head. “What’re your secrets, Layne?”

She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t breathe.

He held there for a moment.

Then he reached around her and jerked a yellow notebook out of her open backpack the one she used to keep assign-ments in order. A pen was still attached to the spiral, and he pulled it loose.

That was so unexpected that she faltered. “My . . . what . . .

why . . .”

He’d flipped to the middle and was already writing.

Before her heart could catch up, he shoved it back into her bag. He didn’t even smile, just stepped back. “Call me when you’re ready to cut through the bullshit.”

He’d turned the corner before she could get it together to pull the notebook out of her backpack, to see what he’d written.

There in the middle, scrawled across the page, was a phone number.

And right under it, in his handwriting, even and blocky: I’m not perfect either.

CHAPTER 15

Gabriel poured Cheerios in a bowl and chased them with milk. Not much of a dinner, but food was food, and he was the only one home.

He had no idea where Nick was. Probably out somewhere with Chris, doing something with Quinn and Becca. Or maybe just out somewhere, doing Quinn. Like Gabriel gave a crap.

He dropped into the kitchen chair and set the bowl beside his textbook. The house was so silent that the sound echoed in the kitchen. Gabriel had his cell on the table, sitting next to the trig book, taunting him by remaining completely silent.

He’d never given a girl his number and walked off. At the time, it seemed like a great idea put the ball in her court, leave her with a line and ten digits scrawled in her notebook.

Now it was like water torture, knowing she had it, knowing she was making the deliberate decision not to call.

Christ, was this how girls felt?

His pencil had dug trenches in his notebook. One page of questions had been assigned for homework, and he was stuck on the first one.

Find the focal diameter of a parabola with focus (2,4) and di-rectrix y = –1.

It was almost enough to make him call Nick.

And he hated to admit it, but there was a small part of him that wished Nick would call. Or text. Something. Almost twenty-four hours had passed since they’d last spoken. That hadn’t happened . . . ever.

The front door slammed, and his older brother’s work boots clomped down the hallway. When Michael stopped in the kitchen doorway, Gabriel looked up.

Michael was filthy, covered in sweat and dust. Stains streaked across his T-shirt. His expression was puzzled. “What are you doing?”

Gabriel half shrugged. “Homework.”

An eyebrow raised. “Homework? Should I call a doctor?”

Gabriel took a spoonful of Cheerios and gave him the finger.

“That’s better.” Michael walked to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water. “You all right?”

I made my twin brother hate me.

I can’t try out for basketball.

I gave my number to some girl who thinks I’m a thug.

Gabriel looked back at his textbook. “Yeah. Fine.”

Michael turned and walked back down the hall. “Cheerios?

Order a pizza or something. I’m starving.”

Since his phone wasn’t doing anything better, Gabriel dialed for pizza. A minute later, he heard the upstairs shower turn on.

He went back to staring at the math problem. Maybe he could Google it.

Victory! He was right in the middle of the fourth question when the doorbell rang. He glanced at his watch. Twenty minutes was record time for pizza.

He had cash in his hand, but there wasn’t a pizza guy on the porch. A young woman stood there, wearing jeans and a canvas jacket, blond hair spilling across her shoulders. Her eyes looked vaguely familiar, and Gabriel tried to place where he knew her from.

“Hi.” She gave him a gentle smile. “You look a lot better than the last time I saw you.”

His brain engaged. The chick firefighter! She looked smaller without all the gear.

Then he froze, feeling the doorknob go slick under his hand.

This had to be about last night. She would have been there, right? She must have recognized him.

But wouldn’t she be here with cops or something?

A little frown creased her mouth. “I’m Hannah. Hannah Faulkner.”

“Yeah.” His breath rattled around in his chest.

“Are you all right?”

He peered past her. No cop cars in the driveway, nothing other than a late-model Jeep Cherokee that was beat to hell, like she’d driven through the outback to get here. “What are you doing here?”

She looked a bit taken aback. “I hoped to talk to you about the other night. The fire in the woods.”

God, it was like he couldn’t breathe. “Yeah, and?”

Her fingers fidgeted with the edge of her jacket. “I probably shouldn’t have stopped by without calling, but I was in the neighborhood, and I thought maybe I could say hi to your brother, too.” She shrugged a little, a touch of pink on her cheeks.

“You know. If he’s around.”

Wait. A. Minute.

“Sure,” said Gabriel, feeling his heartbeat settle. He stood back and held the door open. “Come on in the kitchen. Mike’s in the shower. You want a soda or something?”

He practically shoved her into a chair with a can of Pepsi, then left her there with the reasoning that he should warn Michael a girl was in the house, before he came down the stairs in his boxers or something.

That would really make her blush.

Gabriel took the steps two at a time, just as Michael was coming out of his bedroom. His hair was wet and trailed over his shoulders, and he was wearing a pair of faded sweatpants and an ancient T-shirt that looked like he might have stolen it off a homeless guy.

Gabriel shoved him in the shoulder. “Go hit your face with a razor or something. God, would it kill you to shave more than once a week?”

Michael pushed past him. “I’m not sure the pizza guy will give a crap ”

“No, idiot,” Gabriel hissed. “That Hannah chick is here. Put some decent clothes on. Here” he stepped around Michael, into his bedroom “I’ll help you.”

He started yanking open drawers to Michael’s dresser. Worn jeans, old Tshirts, faded sweatshirts.

“This is pathetic,” he said.

Michael hadn’t moved from the doorway, his expression bemused. “You know what I do for a living.”

“And why aren’t you shaving yet? Don’t you care that a girl is here to see you?”

His brother hesitated. “Look. Gabriel. I’m not ”

“Forget it. You can wear one of my shirts.”

Now Michael gave him a look. “Like your shirt will fit me.”

Gabriel stopped in the doorway. “First, jackass, don’t flatter yourself. And second, don’t you know anything about girls?”

Michael just stared at him.

“For god’s sake.” Gabriel walked down the hallway to his own room, grabbed a slate-gray crewneck T-shirt, and brought it back. He flung it at Michael. “That’s the whole point.”

Gabriel had plates on the table and was serving Hannah a slice of pizza by the time Michael appeared in the doorway.

He’d shaved and pulled his hair back, and he was wearing the gray T-shirt with jeans that didn’t look too beat up. And yeah, maybe the shirt was a little too tight across the chest, but his brother didn’t look like a freak or anything.

It was better than looking like an angry serial killer.

Hannah seemed to appreciate it, anyway. She gave him a small smile.

“Hey,” Michael said from the doorway. He barely stepped into the kitchen, looking awkward.

So they were off to a rousing start.

“Hi,” she said. “I’m sorry to interrupt your dinner and everything ”

“There’s plenty,” said Michael. He still hadn’t sat down.

This was ridiculous. Gabriel shoved a plate in his direction.

“Hannah said she wanted to talk about the other night.”

At least that got Michael’s attention. He pulled a chair back and dropped into it. “Yeah?” Only now he sounded pissed. “Is Gabriel in trouble?”

“No!” Hannah looked startled. “I just ”

“You just what?”

God, it was like his brother had a time limit before he had to start acting like an ass**le. Gabriel gave him a look over the top of her head. Shut up, he mouthed. Be nice.

Hannah pushed her hair back from her face and sighed. She hadn’t even touched her pizza. “Look, I shouldn’t be here. It’s unofficial, okay? I just wanted to ask if you’d seen anything the other night, in the woods.”

Gabriel dropped into his own chair, wondering how careful he needed to be. “No. Like I said, just fire.”

“No people?”

He shook his head and picked up his slice of pizza.

“Why?” asked Michael.

“Because there have been a lot of fires lately.” She paused.

“And the fire marshal suspects arson. Did you hear about the fire over on Linden Park Lane last night?”

Gabriel shrugged and picked up his slice. “I go to school with the guy who lives there.”

“He’s lucky to be alive. They all are. A girl was trapped, but someone got her out.”

Gabriel raised an eyebrow and tried to sound skeptical.

“‘Someone’?”

Jesus. He sounded guilty as hell. He shoved more pizza into his mouth. It tasted like cardboard.

He should have kept his mouth shut. Michael was staring at him now.

Hannah shook her head. “We were all in the front yard, and whoever got her out, went in through the back.” She scowled.

“The press is having a great time with this. We would have kept it out of the papers, but the mom talked. Now it’s all out there the unusual burn patterns, the way the girl escaped down the laundry chute, the mysterious ‘hero.’”

Her voice was full of disdain, but Gabriel was stuck on the mom. He could still remember the way she’d grabbed him around the neck, the way she’d sobbed her thanks.