Did it matter that he’d brought her back?
Emotion gripped his throat and almost made it impossible to run.
He pushed through it. Maybe his ligaments would tear and offer some piercing agony. Maybe his heart would give out and he’d collapse in the middle of the trail.
He had no idea how long it took him to get home. The four miles simultaneously felt like they took all day and no time at all. He was just suddenly at the tree line behind his house, gasping for breath with his forehead braced against the bark of an old maple.
Now he could feel the sun, bleeding through the trees, feeding energy into his skin. It still had to be early: The woods around him were silent, as if even the morning wildlife wouldn’t bear witness to his sorrow.
As if he was worth it.
The Guides were right. He should have been killed long before he could cause this kind of damage.
The morning air felt all wrong. Too crisp, too clean, too pure.
He could smell the soot on his clothes.
And then he was puking, or his body was trying to, dry heaves ransacking his empty stomach. He didn’t remember falling, but his knees were grinding into the leaves and underbrush, his forearms barely strong enough to support his upper body against the base of the tree.
He was crying, too probably had been for some time. His eyes felt raw; his throat felt like someone had him in a headlock.
And he was alone.
He put his forehead against the tree and choked on another breath. He clenched his damaged fist and slammed it into the bark of the tree. And again.
Alone.
A hand closed on his arm. “Gabriel. Gabriel.”
Nick. Gabriel turned his head and stared at his twin, wide-eyed and kneeling in the leaves like he’d been there for a while.
His mirror image in a clean sweatshirt and cutoff sweatpants.
No tears. No soot. No blood. Perfect.
Wind swirled through the trees to rustle the leaves. “What happened?”
Nick’s expression was wary, as if he expected Gabriel to hit him, or snap. Or worse.
“I did it again,” Gabriel said, and his voice sounded thick. He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes and struggled to breathe. “I did it again, Nicky.”
“What happened?” Nick’s voice was softer now.
Gabriel shook his head. “Just go.” His voice broke and he didn’t care. Air swirled through the space between them, and the leaves rustled as Nick shifted to stand.
Good.
But then Nick had a hold of his sleeve, of his arm, and he was pulling. Hard. “Get up. Come on.”
Gabriel fought his grip as anger pierced through the despair.
“Leave me alone.”
“Get up.” Nick was still dragging at his arm. The air dropped ten degrees. “Move.”
“Let me go.”
“Move.”