‘No problem.’ Hunter paused and leaned against the bannister. ‘You’re wrong, by the way.’
‘I’m
wrong
?’
‘I’m not his best friend, Nick. You are.’
Quinn studied herself in Tyler’s bathroom mirror. Steam clouded
the glass, but she could make out her face, her neck, and the edge of the towel wrapped around her body. A shadowed bruise remained across her cheek, but the swelling was gone, along with her headache.
She was glad for the lingering bruise. She didn’t want to forget her mother’s voice or the way she’d swung that trophy.
Or the things she’d said.
Whore. You ruin everything.
The worst part was, Quinn believed her mother. Hell, she had proof. She dated guy after guy who was perfectly content to sleep with her and shell out the bucks for a movie or a dinner, but when she needed a friend? Yeah, busy. Or the dance team at school, who’d kicked her to the curb for a bad attitude. Well, who could blame her, with those bitchy girls. Attitude was just a way to endure it all.
Maybe that was her fault, after all. Maybe she had ruined it.
But then Nick. And Becca. No one wanted her. No one
needed
her. Even when she
was
needed — like for Adam’s dance audition — she couldn’t get it together to show up with any regularity. Clearly her fault.
Besides, it wasn’t like Adam had asked what was wrong when she’d texted him earlier. He’d almost brushed her off like he’d
expected
her to space out. Suddenly furious, Quinn picked up her phone to read the text again.
No worries
, he’d said.
Let me know when you can meet again.
Okay, maybe she was reading negativity into that. He didn’t know what was going on. Maybe she should have texted something like,
Sorry. My room was turned into a crack den. Catch you tomorrow maybe?
Yeah, and then what would have happened? He probably wouldn’t have believed her.
Quinn remembered this one time her mom had thrown a knife at her head. Two years ago, the first week of freshman year. They’d been screaming about something inconsequential — as usual — and her mother had grabbed a steak knife from the block on the counter and flung it at her.
Quinn had run to Becca’s, using the key her best friend’s mom had provided, sitting shaking in a kitchen chair until Becca came home.
Becca had thought she was being overdramatic. ‘A knife,’ she’d said, her voice ringing with skepticism. ‘Come on, Quinn.’
And Quinn had been worried she’d alienate the only friend she had, so she’d recanted her story.
Becca never brought it up again.
Admittedly, it was rarely that bad back in those days. Her mom had been normal enough, coming to Quinn’s school events on occasion, mingling with other parents like she didn’t come home and knock back a bottle of Jack Daniel’s every other night.
Then their lives had started a downward spiral.
Or continued down it, depending on your perspective.
A knock sounded on the bathroom door, and Quinn jumped.
Tyler spoke from the other side. ‘You okay in there?’
‘I’m a girl. Takes a while.’ But Quinn hurriedly started pulling her hair into a messy knot at the back of her head. She untied the towel wrapped around her body and threw it over the shower rod.
‘I’m not trying to rush you,’ he said. ‘Just checking.’
Quinn glanced at her folded clothes waiting by the sink: the old dance sweats she usually slept in, plus a flimsy T-shirt that would leave a few inches of midriff bare.
She glanced at her naked body in the mirror. The other dance girls were full of angles. Graceful angles, but angles nonetheless: a hip bone here, a sharp edge of shoulder there, a jawline practically cut from marble.
Quinn’s body was all sloping lines and curves.
She squeezed her eyes shut. She had a new worry: keeping Tyler interested so she had a place to sleep.
He’d been quiet in the truck, but it was an anxious sort of quiet. A nervous tension had clung to the vehicle, worrying her that any minute he’d pull over and demand that she get out.
‘You’re like them,’ she’d whispered finally, terrified that he’d snap and demand that she keep his secret.
‘Like them?’ he’d said flatly.
She’d had to lick her lips. ‘A full Elemental.’
But he hadn’t snapped. He’d just nodded.
That same tension was hanging around his apartment now. What would he do, now that she knew? It seemed like enough of a reason to put her out. Quinn pulled on the T-shirt and a pair of lace panties, then slapped a coy smile on her face and strolled out the door.
It sounded like all the air left Tyler’s lungs at once. Quinn kept walking, picked up a copy of
Maxim
magazine on her way to the couch, then sprawled suggestively against the cushions. She flipped open to the middle and didn’t look at him.
She could practically hear his brain cells reorganizing to head south.
But then her sweatpants hit her in the chest, landing on the magazine. ‘Put some pants on,’ he said.
She glanced at him. ‘You don’t really want me to.’
He came and sat in the chair in front of her. He kept his eyes level with hers. ‘If I hadn’t just watched your mom lose her shit, you’re right. I wouldn’t want you to. I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but I’m not going to play. Put some pants on.’
She pouted. ‘Make me.’
He sighed. ‘Fine. The hell with it. Sit around half naked.’
She pushed the magazine and the pants to the side and crawled into the chair with him, straddling his lap like she’d done the night before.
Tonight, however, his jaw was set, and he didn’t make a move to touch her.
But when she leaned in, pressing her chest against his, he caught her waist, holding her at a slight distance.
‘What do you think?’ he said. ‘That if you don’t sleep with me, I’m going to put you out on the street?’
Well, that was honest. Anger flared, and Quinn started to climb off his lap.
Tyler’s hands tightened on her waist. She struggled, but he held fast. ‘Why is it that you get to screw with me, but when I call you on it, you get all indignant?’
Honestly, because arguing was easier than
thinking
.
‘Let me go,’ she said.
‘No way. Not until you tell me what’s rolling around in that head of yours.’
She met his eyes and made her expression hard. ‘Let me go or I’ll tell Nick and his brothers what you can do.’
Well, that broke his control. His face turned furious and he shoved her onto the couch roughly, leaving her there and storming into the kitchen. The refrigerator door opened with a creak, and he slammed it shut hard enough to make the contents rattle.
‘You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,’ he snapped, using an opener to jerk the cap off a bottle of beer. ‘Don’t you get it? This isn’t a game.’
‘Yeah, I get it,’ she fired back. ‘You’re all gung ho for someone to kill my friends, when you’re guilty of the same thing.’
‘I’m not guilty of anything!’ he yelled. ‘I never hurt anyone with this!
They did
.’
Quinn sucked back into the couch, holding her breath. His anger was frightening, reminding her of that first night behind the 7-Eleven, when he’d burned her arm and demanded answers.
He wasn’t done yelling. ‘I risk myself for
you
, and you’re going to turn it around and threaten me? Are you fucking
kidding me
? Do you understand that the Guide could be watching? That what I did was enough to earn a bullet to the head?’ He took a long drink and slammed his beer onto the counter. ‘God
damn
it.’
Quinn wished she could make herself invisible. She hugged her knees to her chest and wished she’d put the pants on. She felt too exposed. Too vulnerable.
She was ready for him to stride across the apartment and shake her or slug her or physically shove her out the door. But he just stood there and took another long drink.
After a minute, he looked back at her. His voice was rough, but not aggressive. ‘Nice job, getting the conversation off of you.’ He paused, and his expression turned resigned. ‘Tell the Merricks whatever you want. I know what I did — what I
am
. I can’t undo it.’
Quinn kept her breathing shallow, scared to move.
As usual with Tyler, she wasn’t sure whether he was a good guy or a bad guy. He’d helped her — more than once, and at risk to himself. What was she going to do — tell Nick about Tyler’s secret so these mysterious killers could kill
more
people? Turn Tyler in for saving her life?
But he was sitting here judging the Merricks for something he struggled with
himself
. That was the worst kind of hypocrisy, right? Hating someone for something you hated about yourself?
I never hurt anyone with this
.
Did he really believe that? He’d burned her arm. He’d brutalized the Merricks — she knew that from Nick. Hell, he’d gone after Becca more than once.
Or did he think that was okay because his sister had died? That because he hadn’t
killed
anyone, he somehow got a free pass?
Quinn pulled the sweatpants up her legs and walked into the kitchen.
‘I’ll keep your secret,’ she said quietly. ‘You were right. I was angry — I didn’t want — I don’t —’
Then her mother’s anger and violence overtook her, and Quinn started crying.
Tyler folded her into his arms and sighed against her hair. ‘What a crazy, fucked-up night.’
She laughed through her tears, sniffling against his shoulder. ‘Tell me about it.’ She hesitated. ‘Do you really think there’s a Guide in town?’
He took a long breath. ‘There have been a lot of fires. I’d be more surprised if there’s
not
a Guide in town.’
‘And they’d kill you for
saving
me?’
‘I don’t know. I don’t know.’ He paused. ‘Did Merrick ever tell you what really happened at that carnival last week?’
She nodded against his chest. ‘Some of it. A girl named Calla Dean was trying to bring the Guides here. She wanted to start a war.’
Tyler drew back to look at her. ‘Calla Dean? I don’t know her. Her family wasn’t part of the original deal with the Merricks.’
Quinn swiped remnants of tears from her eyes. ‘You might not ever know her. She disappeared after the carnival. Nick said they don’t know if she was killed or if she ran. But there haven’t been any further arson attacks, so . . .’
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 underwear.’
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 listings.
‘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.’
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.