Quinn hadn't told Becca everything.
She'd left out Nick's secret.
She'd left out Tyler.
She'd left out the trophy and the bruise and the fire on the
beach.
But she'd cried and talked about how much she missed her
best friend, about how much it hurt when Becca treated her like
she was overdramatic, how she needed to figure out how to
trust her again.
How much Quinn needed Becca to be there when she was
ready to tell her everything.
She'd expected Becca to brush her off. If she was being
strictly honest with herself, she'd expected Becca to sigh and
huff and start talking about Chris.
But Becca had cried with her and told her how much she
missed her, too, and Quinn realized that some of her worries
about her best friend were exaggerations she'd created in her
mind.
Another example of pushing someone away before they had
the opportunity to help her.
Becca had begged her to come stay with her, but Quinn had
refused. She needed more time to untangle the snarled mess of
her thoughts. To decide how much trust she was willing to
share.
Now, Quinn was ready for Tyler to come home with Chinese
food, to sit across from him and have a real conversation.
She'd mocked him about honor, but really, he'd been incredibly
honorable toward her. He'd never lied. He'd never taken her
up on her offer to "repay" him.
She was ready to stop pushing him away.
Nick, too. Quinn reassessed the way she'd treated him. He'd
been trying to protect her from Tyler, and she'd all but told him
to fuck off.
Not all but. She had. She still had the text in her phone history.
She'd pushed Adam away, too, that night she'd blown him
off, the night she'd jumped on a bus and texted Tyler.
When she really thought about it, she had a lot of people
looking out for her, and she'd treated them all like crap.
Then Tyler strolled through the door looking like he'd been
in a fight. His jacket was filthy, his jeans looking somewhat
charred around the seams. He dropped a leaking bag of Chinese
food on the table.
"Sorry I'm late," he said flatly. "The place was packed. I had
to wait."
Quinn stared at him. "What the hell happened to you?"
"Your boyfriend happened," he said flatly. "He and his
brother just renewed my desire to kill them."
Nick needed to call home.
He didn't want to, but if he didn't show up, Michael would
worry.
He sat on the end of Adam's bed, staring at Adam's cell
phone, while his host banged around in the kitchen, making
something he claimed would be better than coffee.
Nick almost hoped it would be something better than hard
liquor, because he wouldn't mind turning off his thoughts for a
while.
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It was close to ten. He only knew two numbers by heart: the
house phone and Gabriel's cell.
No contest.
The house phone rang four times. With each ring, Nick's
heart staggered as he prepared for Gabriel to pick up.
Fate smiled on him this time. Chris answered.
"It's me," said Nick. "Is Mike around?"
"He's out with Hannah." Chris hesitated. "Where are you
calling from? Are you okay?"
"Did Gabriel get home yet?"
"No, why? Where are you?"
Nick absolutely hated that his twin brother had been such a
dick, but he still felt a flicker of worry about where Gabriel had
gone—or what he was doing. "Look—Chris, it's nothing. Can
you tell Michael something for me?"
"Sure. Whatever you need." Chris hesitated. "Are you sure
you're all right?"
No. Nick rubbed at his eyes. He wanted to crawl into a bed
and sleep for a month. "Will you tell him—" Tell him what?
That his twin brother had broken his heart? That he couldn't
come home for . . . ever? Nick cleared his throat. "Tell him I'm
spending the night with a friend. I accidentally left my phone in
the car."
Another pause. A weighted one. Chris's voice was low.
"Would this friend be Adam?"
Nick froze.
Chris continued, "That's who sent you the text message at
school, right?"
At lunch. When he'd flipped out.
"Yeah." Nick swallowed. He couldn't read his brother's
voice, and after the fight with Gabriel, this uncertainty left him
on edge.
Chris was silent for a moment, and Nick could imagine him
standing there, choosing his words carefully.
Nick couldn't handle the silence. "Say something, Chris," he
said, more sharply than he intended. "You've obviously figured
it out. So say what you want to say."
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Adam had stopped whatever he was doing in the kitchen, and
was now watching Nick from across the apartment.
You okay? he mouthed.
Nick nodded.
And Chris was still silent.
"Forget it," said Nick bitterly. "Just tell Michael where I am
and that I'm okay."
"Wait," said Chris.
Nick waited.
Chris took a breath. "I'm sorry you thought you had to keep
this a secret."
The words hit with every bit as much impact as Gabriel's
had—but these didn't hurt. In fact, they seemed to absorb some
of the earlier blow. Nick didn't know what to say.
"It's okay," Chris added. "I mean—with me. You're my
brother, and—I want you to be happy, all right?"
Nick drew a shaky breath. He was nodding until he realized
that was ridiculous and Chris couldn't see him. "All right."
"Seriously. You okay?"
"Yeah."
"What happened to Gabriel? Didn't you go out together?"
Nick drew a hand down his face. "I don't really want to talk
about it. I only wanted to make sure someone knew where I was."
Chris didn't say anything for a moment. "I'll tell Michael."
"Thanks." Nick paused. "Hey. How did you know?"
"I didn't know for sure. But that day in the cafeteria. When
Gabriel was giving you shit about the text message." Chris hesitated.
"When you left, you were crying."
Damn. "Did anyone else see?"
"No one saw. I felt it." Another pause. "It's okay, though. I
didn't say anything."
He felt it. The tears.
Nick almost smiled. "You're a good little brother."
"Nah, you caught me on a good day."
Now Nick did smile. "I'm glad you were home." He looked
up and saw Adam standing by the stove. It looked like he was
SECRET 251
stirring something. Nick inhaled chocolate and cinnamon. "I
should go."
"Okay." He paused. "I'm here all night if you need to call
back."
If Gabriel's actions had shredded his heart, Chris was doing
wonders to stitch it back together. "Thanks, Chris."
"No problem. I love you, brother." And before Nick could
say anything to that, Chris hung up.
Nick stared at the phone, touched and bemused. Then he
walked out to join Adam in the kitchen.
He hesitated at the juncture between carpet and linoleum.
This felt like the first night they'd come here, when he wasn't
sure what Adam expected. They'd apologized, and Adam had
invited him here, but did that mean everything was fine?
Adam glanced back over his shoulder, but he didn't stop stirring
whatever was in the saucepan on the stove. "Everything
okay?"
Nick wanted to touch him, to feel some contact that wasn't
full of violence and anger. "Yeah. What are you making?"
"Hot chocolate with Nutella."
"It smells amazing."
"It's my guilty pleasure. My mom used to make it when I had
a bad day." He tossed another glance over his shoulder. "Don't
tell anyone at the studio. I'm supposed to live on lettuce and
carrot sticks."
"You're worse than Quinn." But now his eyes were on
Adam's body, the breadth of his shoulders, the slow movement
of his arms as he stirred the pot. The way dark hair curled at the
nape of his neck. The softness of his skin, the hardness of the
muscles underneath.
Touch him. Touch him. Touch him.
"I doubt that," said Adam. "Hey, can you pull down some
mugs?"
Nick couldn't even remember what they were talking about.
But Adam's request broke the spell and spurred him into motion.
He found the mugs on the second guess, reaching to pull
them down from the highest shelf.
252 Brigid Kemmerer
When Adam's hands came around him from behind, he
gasped and almost dropped both mugs.
Adam laughed and slid his hands up Nick's chest, moving
close until they were almost pressed together. He kissed the back
of Nick's neck, breathing along the skin there. "You were making
me crazy, standing there like that."
He was making Nick crazy, standing there like that. When
Adam's hand slid under his shirt, tracing the skin below his rib
cage, Nick shivered.
"I wasn't sure what you wanted," Nick admitted.
Adam froze. The mood in the air changed.
Then his hand tightened on Nick's waist roughly, jerking him
close. Very close. "Any question now?"
Nick blushed so hard he was glad he was looking away. He
shook his head.
Adam let him go abruptly and took the mugs out of his
hands, slamming them onto the counter beside the stove. Any
playful banter was gone from his voice. "I think that's part of
the problem," he said, killing the heat on the stove. "You're so
damn worried about what everyone else wants. Well, you know
what, Nick? You're going to disappoint people sometimes. You
just are. And you know what else? They're either going to get
over it or they're not. If they don't, it sucks. But it's not going to
kill them, and it's sure not going to kill you." He poured the hot
chocolate into the mugs, then slammed the saucepan back onto
a cool burner. "In fact, if you ask me, Gabriel is long overdue
for some disappointment."
Nick flinched.
Adam pulled a can of whipped cream out of the refrigerator
and shook it like he meant it harm. "You can't live your whole
life waiting around to make sure people approve of the choices
you make. That's why you've got a drawer full of unopened college
letters. That's why you've got a house full of brothers who
didn't have a clue about what you wanted. That's why—"
Nick shoved him up against the refrigerator and kissed him.
Hard.
Adam's breath caught, but he kissed him back, matching
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Nick's intensity. The can of whipped cream hit the floor. Fingers
tangled in Nick's hair.
Nick caught his wrists and broke the kiss, pinning Adam
against the refrigerator with hands and body. He could feel
everything, but he wasn't blushing now.
Adam's eyes were heavy with desire, but maybe a little fear
hid there, too. His breathing came fast, too fast.
"I didn't mean to frighten you," Nick said, his voice low. Despite
Adam's lecture about doing what he wanted, there were
real stakes here. He softened his hold on Adam's wrists and
backed off a bit, leaning in to kiss his cheek, the edge of his jaw,
using his teeth to nip at the sensitive skin below his ear.
Adam's breath shuddered. "I like it," he whispered, so softly
that Nick might not have heard him if not for the air carrying
the sound to his ears.
Nick hesitated, the warm skin of Adam's neck under his lips.
"What was that?"
When he didn't get an answer, he drew back.
The first night Adam brought him here, Nick had followed
instincts and pressed Adam down on the couch. Adam had
called a stop to it—for understandable reasons—but what had
he said?
You're strong. I'm not complaining.
Nick searched his face. He took a chance. He seized Adam's
wrist and dragged him. "Come on."
When they made it to the shadowed cavern of Adam's bedroom,
Nick didn't hesitate. He shut the door, closing the darkness
in around them. Then he grabbed the hem of Adam's shirt
and pulled, dragging it over his head.
Then he shoved Adam up against the wall and kissed him
again, holding nothing back. He let his hands explore, pinning
Adam's wrists when he tried to do the same. Letting Adam's
breath guide him.
When the air whispered of fear again, Nick gentled his touch
and leaned close to whisper. "You'll tell me to stop if we get too
rough?"
"You promise to stop if I say so?"
254 Brigid Kemmerer
Nick caught his face in his hands and kissed him. "Yes. Yes, I
promise. I will never hurt you. I promise."
Again, his brain whispered. I will never hurt you again.
"Then keep going," said Adam.
Nick kept going.
And Adam never said stop.