Gabriel winced and touched the back of his head. “Dude, this is concrete.”

“Good.”

“Jesus.” He winced again and sat up on the curb. “One of these days you’ll have to show me how you do that.”

Hunter stared down at him, feeling his breathing settle and his hands loosen. He sighed and dropped to sit on the curb. Casper came and pressed against his knees, and Hunter buried his fingers in the scruff of fur at the dog’s neck.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I should have told you. About Bill.”

Gabriel didn’t say anything, so Hunter kept his eyes on his dog. “When I followed you to the first fire—I wasn’t even going to let you know I was there. But then I could tell someone was trapped, and I couldn’t not—well, you know.”

“I remember.”

“I never told Bill anything. He asked, but I didn’t tell him any of it. Not about the fires, or about the—the other stuff. About my dad, and your mom—”

“I get it.”

“Sometimes . . .” Hunter hesitated. “Sometimes I don’t know what’s right, you know?”

“Yeah, man. You do.”

Did he? It made Hunter think about Michael’s comments in the car, about turning off his conscience. Who decided what was right?

Gabriel stood and held out a hand. “Come on. You can crash in Nick’s room.”

Hunter peered up at him. “What? Why?”

“Because he’s got more floor space for an air mattress.”

“What about all this crap about not trusting me?” Hunter took the hand and pulled himself to his feet.

“Keep your enemies closer, right?” said Gabriel.

But the tension, the challenge and aggression, was gone from his voice.

“Thanks,” Hunter said. “Maybe just one night.”

“Stay as long as you need to.”

Hunter was surprised by the sudden lump of emotion in his throat. He couldn’t say anything.

But then Gabriel smiled. “Besides. If you f**k with me or my brothers again, I’ll just let Nicky suffocate you in your sleep.”

CHAPTER 11

Hunter stared at the ceiling and waited for sleep to find him, but it didn’t seem to be looking too hard. Casper was a heavy weight at his side, his muzzle tucked under a paw. Nick’s breathing was slow and even, a solid indicator of sleep.

Hunter pulled the phone out of his pocket and scrolled through the menu until he found Kate’s last text.

Bueller . . . Bueller . . . Bueller.

He’d never responded.

He should have just deleted it, but his message from this morning, the one about his grandfather, sat there right above it.

He’d been such an idiot. Why had he told her about it? God, he’d been ready to completely unravel in front of her, and then she’d started texting some other guy.

The phone suddenly vibrated in his hand, and he almost dropped it.

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