Nick had thought his physics test was bad on Tuesday. He
probably should have stuck with that score. This was impossible.
He couldn't think straight. He had no idea what he
was writing on the paper.
And he didn't care.
His pencil moved, but his mind was elsewhere. Adam wasn't
responding to his texts. Well, he'd responded to one this morning,
when Nick finally begged him to confirm he'd got home all
right.
I'm home.
And that was it. Nick almost would have preferred the silence.
Now he knew Adam was getting his texts and choosing
not to respond.
Quinn was no better. He'd tracked her down in the hall this
morning, but she'd turned her back on him and said she'd talk
to him later.
But not before he'd caught a glimpse of the new bruise on her
cheek.
What. The. Hell.
He'd tried to catch up to her, but she'd disappeared into a
classroom, and the teacher had all but closed the door in his
face.
And of course texts demanding to know what had happened
had been hopeless. No one would respond to him, it seemed.
He didn't want to be around his brothers, with Chris suspecting
something and Gabriel being an asshole and Hunter knowing
everything but keeping quiet. At least Michael was swamped
with work, and he hadn't resumed the prying.
Nick turned to the last physics test question and sighed. He
didn't have a chance.
He gave it his best shot anyway, hoping for partial credit.
Yeah, right.
Luckily, Dr. Cutter was speaking with another student when
Nick brought the test up to his desk. He turned it over, placing
it facedown on the desk blotter.
Then he walked out of the room, feeling the pinch of guilt between
his shoulder blades.
He had never failed a test. Ever.
And now he'd done it twice.
He couldn't go to the cafeteria—not like he wanted to eat
anything anyway. He shifted his backpack and headed for the library.
While he walked, he scrolled through the texts from Adam
until he found the picture he'd sent himself.
His eyes blurred, and he blinked moisture away. God, he'd
been such an idiot.
His phone vibrated in his hand, making his heart leap.
Not Adam. Michael.
I hate to ask, but can you help with a job tonight?
Nick sighed.
But what else did he have to do? He texted back quickly.
Sure.
SECRET 197
By the end of the day, he was regretting it. Tension was making
him surly and snappish. Janette Morrits asked for a pencil in
seventh period and he just about flung it in her face. Teachers
responded to his attitude with lectures to pay attention, to
focus, that they expected more.
Every snicker, every giggle, every stupid use of the word gay
or fag had his head whipping around.
Maybe Hunter changed his mind and told everyone. Maybe
they're all talking about me.
He found himself wishing he sat in the back of every room,
instead of the front.
No, he found himself wishing he'd cut school.
At the final bell, he stormed out the side door. He didn't want
to ride home with his brothers. He didn't want to work a job
with Michael.
Cars were lined up illegally in the fire lane, parents who
couldn't be bothered to sit through the heavier traffic on the
other side of school. But trees lined the grounds beyond those
vehicles, dense woods that led the way home. Nick headed for
the crosswalk. He'd cut through the woods and clear his head.
Maybe after three miles of fresh air, he could get it together to
spend a few hours slinging pavestone or planting bushes or
whatever Michael needed help with.
Heavy clouds swarmed the sky, trapping cold air near the
ground. Or maybe he was doing that. He cast his senses far,
feeding power into his element. Reckless and dangerous, but he
didn't care. Wind whipped through his hair, feeding on his temper
to blow loose debris along the curb. A notebook flipped
open to spill papers across the quad. Girls shrieked and scurried
to catch them.
Rain spit at his face, and Nick pulled up the hood of his
sweatshirt. It kept out the cold and his classmates, especially
since not too many students came out this side of the building.
The hoodie didn't keep out sound, however. A car door
slammed; then a voice called out as he slid between two sedans.
"Windy out, huh, douche bag?"
The air brought the words right to him. Nick stopped and
198 Brigid Kemmerer
lowered the hood. Tyler stood by the curb, two cars up, leaning
against his truck.
What was he doing here? Nick gritted his teeth and balled his
hands into fists.
He hated that his first thought was to wish Gabriel was here.
Especially when Tyler moved away from his truck to approach
him.
Thunder rumbled through the sky overhead. Wind blasted
Nick in the face and pulled at his clothes. He called for more,
asking his element to rip Tyler's face clean off.
Nick knew better than to fight him physically. Tyler fought
dirty enough to give Gabriel a run for his money. Nick couldn't
suffocate him, either, not with his senses so scattered. The wind
pulled his power in too many directions. Thunder cracked and
rolled again.
He begged for cold, and the next blast of wind was downright
arctic.
"Go away, Tyler," he said, keeping his voice low. "You're not
supposed to be here."
Tyler laughed in his face. "I'm not allowed to pick up a girl?"
Nick froze. Was Tyler here for Quinn?
Then Nick thought of that second bruise on Quinn's cheek,
and he started forward. Quinn was exactly the type of girl to
fall in with someone like Tyler, someone who'd make promises
to take care of her, but would then turn around and backhand
her across the face. He thought of Adam's history, and fury
made his voice tight. "You leave her alone. She has enough
problems without you screwing around with her."
Tyler shoved him back. "Yeah, and what do you know
about it?"
"I've seen enough. You keep your hands off her."
"Jealous?" sneered Tyler. "That's funny." Then he hit Nick in
the chest again, hard enough to knock him back, toward the
woods.
Nick shoved him back, feeling his wind pick up fistfuls of
twigs and rocks to pelt them at Tyler.
Bonus: twigs and rocks pelted Tyler's truck, too.
SECRET 199
Nick had the satisfaction of seeing Tyler fall back a step, an
arm raised to protect his eyes. A rock hit his face and drew
blood. Then a small branch hit his upraised arm with enough
force to tear his shirt—and the skin below it. Nick caught the
scent of blood on the wind.
Tyler surged forward to grab Nick's arm. "Cold out. Maybe I
should light something on fire."
Nick swung a fist and called for stronger wind, but Tyler
ducked and caught his wrist. They struggled, but Tyler had him
by a good thirty pounds. He twisted Nick's arm until Nick
thought his elbow might give out.
More thunder, more wind. Trees began to sway.
Tyler applied more pressure. "Aw," he said. "Is that
painful?"
Yeah. It was.
"Fuck you," Nick gasped. He remembered a time when he
was younger, when Tyler had trapped him after gym class, when
he'd pinned him much like this to let Seth Ramsey beat the shit
out of him.
God, he hated this guy. He hated his own fear more.
Wind tore between them, stinging Nick's cheeks, pelting him
with the same debris he was using to attack Tyler. But then his
gusts began to pull into a spiral, almost against his will. The
clouds overhead shifted. In a minute, he'd have a tornado. His
power was always like this—no middle ground. Lively breeze
one moment, massively destructive weather event the next.
At least Gabriel's fire needed something to burn. Air was
everywhere.
He needed to rein this in before he leveled the school.
Tyler smiled. "Guess what, douchebag? You don't get to play
like that anymore." He tightened his grip on Nick's wrist.
And then flame curled from under his hand.
Fire bit through fabric to find skin, and Nick yelled, fighting
like mad. His sweatshirt was on fire, a flame trapped beneath
Tyler's fingers. Nothing anyone else could see. The burn clouded
his senses, eating into his arm like something alive.
200 Brigid Kemmerer
He redoubled his struggles, wishing someone would see and
help. But while a few kids were out here, they glanced at the
fight and kept walking. No one said anything. No one took any
action.
Hell, they probably thought he was Gabriel. And Gabriel
never needed help.
The wind swirled harder. Nick tried to bite back the pain, focusing
all his energy into keeping a tornado from forming. The
atmosphere fought him, trying to form a funnel. His element enjoyed
the rage in the air, pulling power from his pain and anger.
Tyler shook him a little, sending agony shooting through his
elbow. It looked like it was snowing. Or maybe those were stars
shooting through his vision.
"Turning you on?" said Tyler, his voice low and sinister.
"Quinn said you were into guys."
If anything could have broken through the pain in his arm,
that was it.
Nick couldn't think, unsure which hurt more: the searing
heat in his forearm or the raging dismay of betrayal.
Quinn. Had. Told. Tyler.
He couldn't fight. He couldn't focus. A tornado was going to
whip through here and leave a wide path of destruction, probably
taking him with it. Then again, Tyler was about to burn him
to ash, right here beside the fire lane.
But then someone hooked a hand around Tyler's throat, jerking
him back hard. Tyler went down harder. Nick stumbled
back, losing his footing from the sudden freedom.
His first thought had been Hunter. Or Gabriel.
But Tyler was on the ground and Michael stood over him. He
looked down at Tyler like he wanted to kick him in the face, but
he cut a quick glance at Nick. "You all right?"
No. He was breathing through his teeth and the wind wouldn't
settle. His arm hurt like a bitch. He could smell burning fabric, on
top of something sickly sweet that he didn't want to identify. Nick
fought his way out of his sweatshirt.
Mistake. He did it fast, and it took skin with it. The wound
SECRET 201
wasn't big, but Nick felt the skin separate and peel away. Every
nerve went with it. He thought he might pass out. Or throw up.
Or both.
But the air was charged with his power, and it surged into the
exposed skin, healing him without thought, stealing some of the
pain immediately. Nick sucked a breath through his teeth and
shivered. The weather no longer seemed centered on destruction,
but trees creaked and groaned as the wind battered them.
Michael looked back at Tyler. "Keep your hands off my
brothers."
Tyler got to his feet and spit at him. "Fuck you, Merrick. He
started it."
"Nick." Michael glanced at him. "Get in the truck."
Nick looked at the fire lane. There was Michael's truck,
about six cars back. Had Michael been here the whole time?
Had he heard what Tyler said?
"Go," said Michael. "He won't follow you."
Like Nick was six years old being chased down by a bully.
But what could he do? He clutched his aching arm to his chest
and walked.
Tyler didn't help matters by calling after him. "Yeah, it's a
good thing big brother showed up, huh, Nicky?"
Nicky. He somehow made it an insult.
Nick slammed the cab door and ran a hand through his hair.
The frigid wind had cleared the quad, whipping between vehicles
to make the truck rock. The open wounds on his arm had
closed, turning to nothing more than soft scabs.
Michael was five seconds behind him. He slammed the door,
then shoved a key into the ignition and got the heat running.
Nick hadn't realized his breath was fogging up all the glass.
He couldn't even see what had happened to Tyler. But Michael
hadn't been out there long enough to have done any damage.
"You didn't fight him?" Nick said.
"He won't fight me." Without any more explanation than
that, Michael put the truck in gear, but kept his foot on the
brake. "Let me see your arm."
"It's okay. I'm okay." Nick held it up, but he didn't care
202 Brigid Kemmerer
about his arm now. His thoughts felt like the debris scattered all
over the quad from the wind. Had Michael heard? Had he
heard?
But Michael said, "What made him come after you?"
Nick had no idea. He wished he could get his thoughts to
focus. What had Quinn told Tyler? Why? How could she—why
would she—?
"Nick?"
He shook his head. "I don't know—Tyler's never done that
before. With the fire." He wished Gabriel weren't being such a
dick—Nick could ask him how much power that would take.
Tyler wasn't supposed to be very strong, but something so focused
would require a lot of control, right?
You don't get to play like that anymore.
What was Tyler telling him? What had he said?
She has enough problems without you screwing with her.
Then Tyler's sneering, What do you know about it?
What did Tyler know? What was Quinn telling him?
She'd clearly given up his secret. What did that mean?
The windshield cleared in patches. Michael pulled out of his
space. "Has he been hassling you?"
"No. Not really." Nick paused. "Why won't he fight you?"
"Because he genuinely believes I killed his sister, and he's
afraid I'll do the same to him." Michael glanced over. "I'm serious,
Nick. What's going on?"
His older brother sounded pissed—but only at Tyler. Not like
he'd learned anything new and shocking. In a way, it was disappointing.
Nick shook his head and looked out the window.
"Nothing. What were you doing there?"
"I came to pick you up. I saw the guys getting into the car
and you weren't with them. Gabriel said you were PMS-ing,
which I took to mean you were walking home."
Nick clenched his jaw and glared out the window. Trees
along Old Mill Road flew by. Wind was still blowing leaves in
every direction, matching his mood.
Then he whipped his head back around. "Why were you
picking me up?"
SECRET 203
"What's with all the suspicion? Because I'd like to get this job
done before the rain starts."
Oh. Of course. Nick settled back into the seat. His sweatshirt
was destroyed, and he could do with a change of clothes, but
the last thing he wanted to do was face his brothers. "Do you
have an extra pullover in here?"
"You don't want me to swing by the house?"
"No."
Michael reached between the seats and flung a fleece half-zip
at him. It smelled vaguely of topsoil and mulch, but not in a bad
way. Nick pulled it over his head.
"Hungry?" said Michael.
Nick shook his head. He hadn't eaten lunch, either, but the
last thing he wanted was food.
They drove in silence for the longest time. Nick leaned his
head against the window and wondered what it would be like to
lie down and sleep forever.
When Michael spoke, his voice was quiet. "You want to talk
about what's up at school?"
That familiar tension dug its teeth into Nick's neck. "Nothing
is going on at school."
"Your physics teacher called and said you failed a test."
Nick swore. "Great."
"He said you were distracted. He asked if something was
going on at home. Asked if he could help."
"You don't have to do this, Mike. I'm fine. Things at home
are fine. It's one test. He shouldn't have called you."
Michael glanced over. "He said he'd told you about a precollege
program he'd like to nominate you for, but you brushed it
off. I thought you were all gung ho for college."
"I don't—I don't know what I want. Can you just leave it?
It's one test. I don't know why he's blowing it out of proportion."
"I don't think he's worried about the test, Nick. And I'm
pretty sure you know I'm not, either." He paused. "You've been
on edge at home, too. I know you said things are fine with
Quinn. Are they really?"
204 Brigid Kemmerer
Nick stared out the window and set his jaw. "Yeah."
"I know you've been covering for your brothers a lot. I didn't
mean to load more on you. You should have said something.
You know you can say no, right?"
Sure. And then Mike would lose a job and money would be
tighter than it already was. "I'm fine. Really."
"All right. If you're sure."
"I'm sure."
Then Michael shut up and they drove. Nick kept his eyes on
the windshield.
That just gave him time to think.
After a minute, he yanked his phone out of his pocket and
shot off a text to Quinn.
wtf. Why did you tell Tyler?
He didn't expect a response, so he was shocked to get one almost
immediately.
Wtf. Why did you ATTACK Tyler? Are you crazy?!
She thought he'd attacked Tyler? Was she crazy?
Nick wanted to punch something. Hell, it worked for
Gabriel. And Tyler, clearly.
It made him think of how he'd treated Adam last night.
Or of Adam's words: Do you ever think that this Tyler guy
thinks maybe you are bad for Quinn?
What had Tyler just said? He started this.
Had Nick started this? He didn't think he had. He'd choked
Tyler in his driveway, but that was after Tyler swung a fist.
Right? He couldn't remember. Maybe not, but what had
Tyler done to him over the last five years? What was he doing to
Quinn?
Nick's thoughts kept veering back to Adam. To Matt, the guy
who'd used Adam like a punching bag. How hard had Nick hit
him? He couldn't remember.
It felt like something he should remember.
SECRET 205
When you wake up hating yourself, I don't want you taking
it out on me.
Nick had panicked. Adam had to know that. He would never
do what that other guy had done.
But . . . had he already? Just on a smaller scale?
Michael hit the turn signal, and Nick looked up. They were
turning off Generals Highway and pulling into the nearly empty
parking lot of Famous Dave's.
"Did you miss a turn?" he said.
"No." Michael parked the truck. "In case you hadn't noticed,
Nick, it's like thirty degrees in here, and I'm blasting the
heater."
His breath was fogging. "Oh. Sorry. I'll stop. Just—drive. It's
fine."
But Michael unbuckled his seat belt and climbed down from
the cab.
Nick stared at him.
"Come on," said Michael. "You want to get some ribs?"
"You don't have to do this."
"Wrong. If I don't eat something, I'm going to kill someone."
"What about the job?"
Michael looked at the sky. "Looks like I won't be able to get
there before the storm." His eyes snapped back to Nick. "It's
called a breather, little brother. Take it."