CHAPTER 25
Saturdays usually meant landscaping work with Michael.
The hell with that.
Since he had the car keys, Gabriel was out the door before anyone else was up. He threw the duffel bag in the backseat, just in case. Nick could use those college-bound brains to figure out a way to get around.
Gabriel grabbed a cup of coffee and a breakfast sandwich from Dunkin’ Donuts, but that didn’t kill any more than fifteen minutes. He decided to test the bounds of friendship.
Do you want to practice today?
Hunter’s return text took a minute.
Are you seriously texting me at 6 am?
Gabriel smiled.
Thought you might be up for a 10 mile run before we
light hay bales on fire. Go back to bed, slacker.
He set the phone down and took another sip of coffee.
His phone chimed almost immediately. Gabriel glanced at the display and nearly choked on that sip.
Sounds good. Give me 15 mins.
They ran on the B&A Trail, a paved track that stretched from Annapolis nearly to Baltimore. This early in the morning, it was mostly deserted aside from a few lone cyclists and joggers out to take advantage of the chill in the air.
After the fourth mile, Gabriel glanced over. Hunter had looked a little bleary eyed when he’d picked him up, and he hadn’t said much in the car, but he was keeping up without any trouble.
Then again, they weren’t breaking any records. “You know, I was kidding,” said Gabriel. “We don’t have to run ten miles.”
Hunter didn’t slow. “What, you’re tired already?”
e 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.