‘You didn’t do anything,’ the man said. ‘The girls inside said that other boy started it.’ He
tsked
. ‘Shame there are still such closed-minded people picking fights about this kind of thing. You’re lucky your . . . friend was here to stop him.’
‘I know I am,’ said Adam.
‘You sure you boys won’t come inside? I’m worried he’ll come back.’
Had the man not noticed they were twins? That this wasn’t some random hate crime? Maybe it was too dark. Maybe it had happened too fast.
Nick cleared his throat. ‘He’s my brother. He won’t come back.’
Those words hung in the air for a moment.
‘We’ll be all right,’ said Adam.
And then they were alone.
Nick hadn’t touched the ice, but Adam sat in the opposite metal chair and reached for it. Then he put the bag against Nick’s face.
And Nick was struck with an entirely different sort of déjà vu. A different night, a different fight, but Adam’s hand holding an ice bag just like this.
Back then, Nick had leapt out of his chair to kiss him. Now, he wasn’t sure what to do. About any of it.
‘Would you rather put this on your hand?’ Adam said.
Nick tried to categorize his injuries and came up with nothing. He couldn’t think past his brother’s angry eyes and the fight and the way he’d walked off.
And what he’d
said
.
It hurt. It hurt more than anything physical.
Nick swallowed and shook his head.
They sat there for the longest time in the darkness, breathing the same air. The pain began to fade from Nick’s hand as his element worked its magic.
Nick almost wished it wouldn’t.
This
he wanted to remember for a while.
When he finally spoke, his voice was rough. ‘Did he hurt you?’
‘No.’ Adam looked chagrined. ‘And I shouldn’t have shoved him. But he kept pushing me, and there’s only so much of that big-dumb-straight-boy crap that I can put up with. Especially since . . . you know.’
Nick did know. And if Gabriel had hurt Adam . . . Nick wasn’t sure what he would have done.
But he’d felt a glimmer of it when he was slamming Gabriel into that wall.
He pulled the ice bag away from his face and set it on the table.
‘I’m sorry that he — that he —’ ‘It’s not your fault.’ Adam touched his cheek, and his hand was warm. Nick shut his eyes and leaned into the contact. He felt the pain, but it was worth it.
He opened his eyes. ‘Then I’m sorry for what
I
did. Last night.’
Adam nodded and withdrew his hand, reaching for the ice pack again. ‘I am, too.’ He glanced up, and the slightest bit of rueful humor slid into his voice. ‘In fact, I was trying to apologize to you fifteen minutes ago. I didn’t realize that when you said identical twin, you weren’t kidding about the
identical
part.’
Nick frowned. ‘Only on the outside.’ Then he remembered the whole reason for the apology, and he looked away, ashamed. ‘Usually.’
‘No, what you did was nothing like what
he
did.’ Adam caught his eye and held it. ‘Don’t get me wrong. What you did was not okay.’
‘I know.’
‘I know you know. That’s why I’m sitting here.’
‘How did you know I’d be here?’
Adam picked up Nick’s hand and held the ice against his knuckles. He looked sheepish. ‘I didn’t. I came here to
avoid
you. I figured you usually go to the Starbucks down the road.’ He paused, then rubbed at the back of his neck. ‘I needed to grab a cup of coffee on the way to my parents’, because I told them I’d stop by tonight. Then I saw you — well, your brother — sitting there, and I . . . ah, well, I couldn’t go another minute without talking to you.’
Nick studied him. The lighting was dim, but . . . ‘You’re blushing!’
Adam looked away. ‘Yeah, yeah.’
‘But you wouldn’t respond to my texts!’
‘Well, I couldn’t let you think you got off that easy.’
‘Oh, I get it. So you’ve been torturing me.’ But Nick smiled.
‘Absolutely. And torturing myself at the same time.’ Adam slid his phone out of his pocket and snapped a picture.
‘Oh, good,’ said Nick. ‘This is a moment I want a record of.’
‘You don’t smile enough. That makes them meaningful.’ He paused, then turned the phone around so Nick could see. His voice lost any humor. ‘I should send this to your brother.’
Nick glanced at it. A bruise was already forming on his cheek, more obvious because of the flash in the darkness.
He reached out and pushed the button to make the phone go dark. Gabriel’s mocking voice was a never-ending echo in his head; he didn’t need to see the evidence of physical aggression on top of it. Such a contrast to that moment in the car, when Nick had realized how badly he wanted to share this with his brother.
Or that moment in the woods. Gabriel’s voice, tight with panic.
Come on, Nicky. Please. You’re scaring me.
Or the thousand moments before that. A lifetime of memories with his twin brother, undone in an instant.
You don’t have to hold him. Nick will stay down.
‘Okay,’ said Adam softly. ‘Okay. Come on.’
It was only then that Nick realized his breath was shaking and his eyes had filled. Adam’s fingers wrapped around his good hand and tugged. Nick allowed himself to be led.
When he was sure his voice wouldn’t break, he said, ‘Where are we going?’
‘Bus stop. My place?’
Nick nodded. He certainly couldn’t go home.
If he was being strictly honest with himself, he was
afraid
to go home.
God, he was such a
wuss
.
But when they were on the near-empty bus, sharing a bench at the back of the vehicle, Adam leaned into him and spoke quietly. ‘When you pushed him away from me — that was the bravest thing I’ve ever seen.’
Nick scoffed, but Adam put a finger over his lips. ‘It was. For me, it was. Take it or leave it.’
Nick took it.
Quinn hadn’t told Becca everything.
She’d left out Nick’s secret.
She’d left out Tyler.
She’d left out the trophy and the bruise and the fire on the beach.
But she’d cried and talked about how much she missed her best friend, about how much it hurt when Becca treated her like she was overdramatic, how she needed to figure out how to trust her again.
How much Quinn needed Becca to be there when she was ready to tell her everything.
She’d expected Becca to brush her off. If she was being strictly honest with herself, she’d expected Becca to sigh and huff and start talking about Chris.
But Becca had cried with her and told her how much she missed her, too, and Quinn realized that some of her worries about her best friend were exaggerations she’d created in her mind.
Another example of pushing someone away before they had the opportunity to help her.
Becca had begged her to come stay with her, but Quinn had refused. She needed more time to untangle the snarled mess of her thoughts. To decide how much trust she was willing to share.
Now, Quinn was ready for Tyler to come home with Chinese food, to sit across from him and have a real conversation.
She’d mocked him about honor, but really, he’d been incredibly honorable toward her. He’d never lied. He’d never taken her up on her offer to ‘repay’ him.
She was ready to stop pushing him away.
Nick, too. Quinn reassessed the way she’d treated him. He’d been trying to protect her from Tyler, and she’d all but told him to fuck off.
Not
all but
. She had. She still had the text in her phone history.
She’d pushed Adam away, too, that night she’d blown him off, the night she’d jumped on a bus and texted Tyler.
When she really thought about it, she had a lot of people looking out for her, and she’d treated them all like crap.
Then Tyler strolled through the door looking like he’d been in a fight. His jacket was filthy, his jeans looking somewhat charred around the seams. He dropped a leaking bag of Chinese food on the table.
‘Sorry I’m late,’ he said flatly. ‘The place was packed. I had to wait.’
Quinn stared at him. ‘What the hell happened to you?’
‘Your boyfriend happened,’ he said flatly. ‘He and his brother just renewed my desire to kill them.’
Nick needed to call home.
He didn’t want to, but if he didn’t show up, Michael would worry.
He sat on the end of Adam’s bed, staring at Adam’s cell phone, while his host banged around in the kitchen, making something he claimed would be
better than coffee
.
Nick almost hoped it would be something better than hard liquor, because he wouldn’t mind turning off his thoughts for a while.
It was close to ten. He only knew two numbers by heart: the house phone and Gabriel’s cell.
No contest.
The house phone rang four times. With each ring, Nick’s heart staggered as he prepared for Gabriel to pick up.
Fate smiled on him this time. Chris answered.
‘It’s me,’ said Nick. ‘Is Mike around?’
‘He’s out with Hannah.’ Chris hesitated. ‘Where are you calling from? Are you okay?’
‘Did Gabriel get home yet?’
‘No, why? Where are you?’
Nick absolutely
hated
that his twin brother had been such a dick, but he still felt a flicker of worry about where Gabriel had gone — or what he was doing. ‘Look — Chris, it’s nothing. Can you tell Michael something for me?’
‘Sure. Whatever you need.’ Chris hesitated. ‘Are you sure you’re all right?’
No
. Nick rubbed at his eyes. He wanted to crawl into a bed and sleep for a month. ‘Will you tell him —’ Tell him
what
? That his twin brother had broken his heart? That he couldn’t come home for . . . ever? Nick cleared his throat. ‘Tell him I’m spending the night with a friend. I accidentally left my phone in the car.’
Another pause. A weighted one. Chris’s voice was low. ‘Would this friend be Adam?’
Nick froze.
Chris continued, ‘That’s who sent you the text message at school, right?’
At lunch. When he’d flipped out.
‘Yeah.’ Nick swallowed. He couldn’t read his brother’s voice, and after the fight with Gabriel, this uncertainty left him on edge.
Chris was silent for a moment, and Nick could imagine him standing there, choosing his words carefully.
Nick couldn’t handle the silence. ‘Say something, Chris,’ he said, more sharply than he intended. ‘You’ve obviously figured it out. So say what you want to say.’
Adam had stopped whatever he was doing in the kitchen, and was now watching Nick from across the apartment.
You okay?
he mouthed.
Nick nodded.
And Chris was still silent.
‘Forget it,’ said Nick bitterly. ‘Just tell Michael where I am and that I’m okay.’
‘Wait,’ said Chris.
Nick waited.
Chris took a breath. ‘I’m sorry you thought you had to keep this a secret.’
The words hit with every bit as much impact as Gabriel’s had — but these didn’t hurt. In fact, they seemed to absorb some of the earlier blow. Nick didn’t know what to say.
‘It’s okay,’ Chris added. ‘I mean — with me. You’re my brother, and — I want you to be happy, all right?’
Nick drew a shaky breath. He was nodding until he realized that was ridiculous and Chris couldn’t see him. ‘All right.’
‘Seriously. You okay?’
‘Yeah.’
‘What happened to Gabriel? Didn’t you go out together?’
Nick drew a hand down his face. ‘I don’t really want to talk about it. I only wanted to make sure someone knew where I was.’
Chris didn’t say anything for a moment. ‘I’ll tell Michael.’
‘Thanks.’ Nick paused. ‘Hey. How did you know?’
‘I didn’t know for sure. But that day in the cafeteria. When Gabriel was giving you shit about the text message.’ Chris hesitated. ‘When you left, you were crying.’
Damn.
‘Did anyone else see?’
‘No one saw. I felt it.’ Another pause. ‘It’s okay, though. I didn’t say anything.’
He felt it
. The tears.
Nick almost smiled. ‘You’re a good little brother.’
‘Nah, you caught me on a good day.’
Now Nick did smile. ‘I’m glad you were home.’ He looked up and saw Adam standing by the stove. It looked like he was stirring something. Nick inhaled chocolate and cinnamon. ‘I should go.’
‘Okay.’ He paused. ‘I’m here all night if you need to call back.’
If Gabriel’s actions had shredded his heart, Chris was doing wonders to stitch it back together. ‘Thanks, Chris.’
‘No problem. I love you, brother.’ And before Nick could say anything to that, Chris hung up.
Nick stared at the phone, touched and bemused. Then he walked out to join Adam in the kitchen.
He hesitated at the juncture between carpet and linoleum. This felt like the first night they’d come here, when he wasn’t sure what Adam expected. They’d apologized, and Adam had invited him here, but did that mean everything was fine?
Adam glanced back over his shoulder, but he didn’t stop stirring whatever was in the saucepan on the stove. ‘Everything okay?’
Nick wanted to touch him, to feel some contact that wasn’t full of violence and anger. ‘Yeah. What are you making?’
‘Hot chocolate with Nutella.’
‘It smells amazing.’
‘It’s my guilty pleasure. My mom used to make it when I had a bad day.’ He tossed another glance over his shoulder. ‘Don’t tell anyone at the studio. I’m supposed to live on lettuce and carrot sticks.’
‘You’re worse than Quinn.’ But now his eyes were on Adam’s body, the breadth of his shoulders, the slow movement of his arms as he stirred the pot. The way dark hair curled at the nape of his neck. The softness of his skin, the hardness of the muscles underneath.
Touch him. Touch him. Touch him.
‘I doubt that,’ said Adam. ‘Hey, can you pull down some mugs?’
Nick couldn’t even remember what they were talking about. But Adam’s request broke the spell and spurred him into motion. He found the mugs on the second guess, reaching to pull them down from the highest shelf.
When Adam’s hands came around him from behind, he gasped and almost dropped both mugs.