Spark (Elemental 2)

“Nick’s like that. Always does the right thing.”

She glanced up from the phone, hearing the tension in his voice. “You still owe me a secret.”

“One is enough for tonight.” He took the phone back and tapped out a quick text. The phone chimed almost immediately, and he sighed and shoved it into his pocket before she could see what his brother had said.

She tried to figure out his expression. “You all right?”

His voice was closed off now. “I should probably take you home, before your dad sends out a search party.”

So that was that. She bit at her lip, wondering how to fix this.

He stood. “It’s late.”

Oh. Loud and clear. She nodded. “Okay.”

But when they were walking, he reached down and took her hand. “You doing anything tomorrow?”

His fingers were sending bolts of electricity up her arm, and she shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

He leaned down and brushed a kiss against her temple.

“Maybe if you actually use that number I wrote in your notebook, we could figure something out.”

Gabriel sat in the car, staring up at his house for the second night in a row. The porch lights were on, but the lower level lights weren’t. The front step: empty. Both front windows on the second level were dark, but one was Chris’s and one was his, so that didn’t mean much.

He’d been tempted to drive to Hunter’s, but that would probably give Michael an excuse to report him for auto theft or something.

And then there was the subtle accusation in Nick’s second text message.

Gabriel pulled the phone out of his pocket and looked at it again, like he couldn’t remember three words.

You coming home?

Simple enough, but full of subtext. Did Nick expect him to be out all night? Was this a challenge? A warning that Nick would be waiting to hash things out?

And then there was Layne.

Christ, Gabriel could have sat in that parking lot with her all night. He’d never been with a girl so perfectly . . . imperfect. She got it. She got him. He’d been ready to tell her. About the fires, about everything. He’d warmed up to it, telling her about his parents’ deaths.

But then she’d told him about her scars. What was he supposed to say to that?

Funny thing: I actually started the fire that killed my parents.

Gabriel punched the steering wheel.

His cell phone chimed. Nick again.

You can come in. Mike is out.

What? Seriously? It was almost midnight. Curiosity was enough to shove Gabriel out of the car.

But when he made it to the second floor, he looked at Nick’s door sitting a few inches open. Alt rock music was on low, sneaking into the hallway. No feminine laughter. No Quinn.

Nick was waiting for him.

Gabriel hesitated. He wished those text messages had come with some kind of sign, whether Nick was pissed or exasperated or just completely done with him. Hell, a freaking emoticon would have been helpful.

His own room sat pitch-dark at the opposite end of the hallway. A black hole. Gabriel eased around the creaky spot in the floor and slid past his twin’s room. Once in his own, he flung his duffel bag onto the ground and shut the door, closing the dark around himself. He sighed and kicked his shoes into the well of blackness under the bed. Maybe Nick hadn’t heard him. Maybe he thought he was still out in the car.