Spark

What do you think, that I’m some kind of thug player who’ll screw anything in a skirt?

“You’re blushing.” His breath was against her neck, his lips whispering into her skin.

“You’re still stalling. We need to ”

She gasped. His teeth grazed her jaw, the sensitive area below her ear. His hands found her waist, shifting her toward him.

Everything suddenly felt ten degrees warmer.

“See?” he murmured. “Who needs math?”

That woke her up. She used her pencil to rap him on the forehead. “You do.”

He sighed disgustedly and drew back.

Then he went right back to glaring at his blank paper.

“It’s only ten questions,” she said, still feeling a bit breathless. “We’ll just work through these, and then . . .” She let the words trail off, but that open ending was just way too . . . open.

“Then we’ll talk.”

He nodded. But he didn’t write anything down.

“Look,” she said, “I can’t help you if you won’t even ”

“Jesus.” His eyes flared with anger. “I know. ”

Layne almost flinched then reminded herself that his anger had nothing to do with her. “Truth,” she said softly. “What’s wrong?”

His expression was locked down, and she had a strong feeling he wasn’t going to answer. Every time he did this, it made her feel vulnerable. More so now that her secrets were all out on the table and his weren’t.

“I need to pass.” His voice was low, rough.

“You will,” she said. “You’ll pass the test, get back on the team ”

“I don’t give a crap about the team.” He hesitated. “I mean, I do, but . . .”

She waited.

He kept his eyes on the book. “Nick told me last night that he wants to go to college. If I can’t pass math, I can’t even graduate from high school.”

She studied him. “Do you want to go to college with your brother?”

“No yes I don’t ” His pencil snapped. “God damn it.”

He dropped the pieces in the spine of the book.

Again, Layne waited.

Gabriel looked up, meeting her eyes. “I never even thought about college. The only reason I bother getting halfway decent grades is so I can play sports. I mean, I just figured we’d keep helping Mike with the business.”

“What do you want to do?”

He snorted. “I doubt there’s money for Nick to go to college, so for me to go with him . . . I mean, he’ll probably get scholar-ships, but ”

“No. What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know.” He was looking back at the math book again. “I never really thought I had a choice.”

Layne bit at her lip. She didn’t know the twins’ relationship well enough to judge them, and talking to Gabriel always felt like walking a tightrope. “Obviously Nick thinks he has one.”

That brought his eyes back up to hers. “He deserves a choice.”

“Why, because he’s a good student?”

Gabriel scowled. “He’s good, period.”

It made her think of her mother, volunteering for every charity under the sun as long as she got to plan a party for it. Most people probably thought she was good, too, despite the fact that Layne’s father had worked himself to the bone to afford the lifestyle her mother demanded.

And then she’d left, like it wasn’t good enough.

No, because Layne and Simon weren’t good enough.

There were different levels of good, Layne thought. Had to be.

She tapped the math book with her pencil. “You deserve a choice, too.”

Gabriel took a deep breath and blew it out. He picked up the broken half of his pencil, the one with a writing end. “Can I choose to not do this?”

She wanted to hit him on the forehead again. “Don’t be such a baby. I can’t believe you’ll kick the crap out of Ryan Stacey but you’re afraid of a few equations.”

His eyes flicked up at her. “That’s because I don’t care what Ryan Stacey thinks of me.”

Oh. Her breath caught again. She tried to stop her heart from thundering in her chest and shoved the book toward him. “Maybe your brother should help you. You can’t sweet-talk him.”

Layne helped Gabriel struggle through the second problem of the assignment.

And he was definitely struggling.

The first question had taken thirty minutes to work through.

He was missing fundamentals they’d covered in Algebra I. It was like trying to teach abstract equations to someone who’d never learned basic multiplication. And as he got more frustrated, he started transposing numbers. It reminded her of that day she’d fixed his test, when half the solutions were written backward. Or that day at the blackboard, when he’d copied someone’s equation but he’d copied it incorrectly. She had to keep reminding him to slow down.

That night she’d driven him home, she’d made a comment about special classes, and he’d brushed her off. But now she was starting to wonder if he genuinely had a learning disability.

Not like she’d say that out loud. Yet.

The second problem took only twenty-five minutes. Progress.

By the end of two hours, he’d worked through eight problems. He wrote the number 9 on his paper just as a peal of thunder rolled overhead. Layne reached out and closed the textbook.

He looked up. “We’re not done.”

“I should check on Simon.” She stretched her shoulders.

“And you should quit while you’re ahead. Do the other two tomorrow.” They hadn’t heard a sound from the living room the entire time they’d been in here. Not like Simon was a noisy kid, but she was surprised he hadn’t come looking for a soda. A snack. A bathroom, for goodness’ sake.

But when they looked in the living room, the PlayStation was turned off, the television silent and dark. She turned around, but the powder room door was wide open, the lights off.

No one was in the front yard, either, when they leaned out the front door. Overcast sky, prestorm humidity thick in the air.

But no Simon.

Then a repetitive smacking echoed from the driveway. Followed by a long pause.

Gabriel smiled. “Come on.”

Simon was tossing a basketball at the hoop over the garage.

To her utter surprise, Gabriel’s older brother was playing with him.

Michael caught the ball Simon passed to him, then pointed at her and Gabriel. “Math done?” he asked.

“Mostly,” said Gabriel. He gave Simon a grin. “You’ve been practicing.”

Simon’s hair was a little damp, but he grinned in return the first smile Layne had seen on his face all day. He nodded.

“Coach still won’t let you play?” said Gabriel.

The grin vanished. Simon shook his head.

Gabriel nodded at the basket. “Keep playing like that, and he’ll be an idiot not to.”

The smile was back. Simon held out a fist. Gabriel hit it.

“Thanks for playing with Simon,” she said to Michael, signing as she spoke, out of habit. “I’m sorry if you were trying to get work done.”

“Nah.” He didn’t quite smile, but his expression was easy.

Amiable. Again, it made her wonder about Gabriel’s fights with him. He’d been nice enough to drive her over. And then play basketball with her deaf brother. Kara had an older sister in college who’d barely give Kara the time of day, much less Layne.

Honestly, after the way her mother practically ignored them, it was nice to see a family member act like family.

It was funny all along she’d thought Gabriel was the jock thug, when all he’d ever done was protect her and Simon. And then a charmer like Ryan Stacey turned out to be as bad as Taylor and Heather.

It made her wonder what else she was missing about the people around her. Whether their motives were truly hidden, or whether she just chose not to see.

“What time did you say you needed to be home?” Michael asked her.

She shrugged and glanced away. “I told my dad we’d be back by six.”

A complete lie, of course. She hadn’t mentioned a word of this to her father. But Michael had caught her off guard when she’d first climbed into his truck, asking if it was okay with her parents. She hadn’t expected him to do more than give her a passing glance and roll his eyes about playing chauffer.

Really, considering the guys Kara’s older sister hung out with, she wouldn’t have been surprised to find Michael passing her a joint and asking if she felt like making brownies.

Thunder rolled through the sky again, sounding like a warning. Layne tapped Simon’s arm and signed as she spoke. “We should probably go.”

No, he signed back, scowling. I never get to play.

She sighed and looked meaningfully at the sky before signing and saying, “It’s going to storm.”

“Nah,” said Gabriel. He looked up at the sky as well. “The lightning is a ways off.”

Simon smacked her in the arm, harder than was necessary.

See?

Layne wanted to snap at him, to make him fall in line like that ever worked. But she kept remembering the way he’d slammed the door to his room after their mother hadn’t shown up.

And the smile on his face when she’d found him playing basketball.

She sighed and sat on the concrete against the garage. “Fifteen minutes.”

But Gabriel held out a hand. “No way. We play, you play.”

She blushed. “I’m not really athletic ”

He snorted. “Come on.”

Then he had her hand, and then she was playing basketball.

Playing might have been a little strong. The boys were patient, letting her take time to make a basket. When they had the ball, it was a free-for-all of shoving and good-natured ribbing.

But the best part was when she had to shoot, and Gabriel’s arms came around her, his voice gentle in her ear. “Like this . . .”

She was having so much fun that she didn’t realize their fifteen minutes had passed, didn’t even register the crunch of tires on pavement until Michael said to Gabriel, “Expecting more company?”

Layne glanced at the driveway. A black BMW was rolling up the hill.

She actually felt the blood drain from her face.

For a split second, she hoped Gabriel was expecting more company. Even a girl. Even Taylor Morrissey herself. Because right this instant, Layne would rather face anyone than the one person she knew drove a black BMW.

Her father.

Her palms went slick on the basketball. She didn’t even remember catching it.

Simon was there beside her, his breathing as shallow as hers.

“What am I missing?” said Michael.

Layne had to clear her throat to find her voice. “It’s my dad.”

God, how had he known where they were? She shook herself and looked at her watch.

Still early! How . . . what . . .

“Layne!” Her father was already out of the vehicle, standing there in the driveway, the door standing open. His tone could slice through steel. “Both of you. Get in the car. Right now.”

Her backpack was still in the kitchen, but she didn’t dare say she had to go inside to get it. “Dad.” Her voice broke, and she tried again. “Dad, we were just playing ”

“Trust me. I know exactly what’s getting played here.” Layne had never seen him look so livid.

Yes she had the night her mom left.

It hurt to breathe. Her voice wouldn’t rise above a whisper.

“Dad ”

“Leave her alone,” said Gabriel, right at her shoulder. His voice was even. Steady. “We were just playing ball.”

Simon signed the same thing, his gestures full of fury. We were just playing ball. You were working.