Secret (Elemental) Page 12

  Nick looked incredulous. “Maybe if you’d talk to her, she could be! Tyler’s best friend was one of the guys who tried to rape Becca. Seth Ramsey. He and Drew McKay dragged her onto the soccer field at Homecoming. Remember that?”

  Quinn flinched. She remembered Becca’s torn, rain-soaked dress, the way her best friend had shivered in the backseat on the drive home. Chris Merrick had witnessed the attack, and Seth and Drew had been expelled from school. “I remember. But I’m not going to hold Tyler responsible for something Seth and Drew did—”

  “Jesus, Quinn, fine. Maybe not then. But he tried to kill her at Drew’s party a few weeks ago. She and Chris ran into the water, and Tyler tried to shoot them. With a gun.”

  Quinn didn’t say anything to that. Her brain was roiling with two different emotions.

  Fear. Tyler had a gun. She’d seen it. He’d played it off by saying he was protecting his property, but . . . he’d been shooting at Becca?

  Then anger. Becca had never said anything about Tyler shooting at her that night.

  She’d never said anything about any of this.

  Becca acted like she wanted to kiss and make up, but what was the point? Quinn was so tired of all these secrets.

  Nick kept going. “I can’t believe you thought he was nice. Do you just find the most destructive people you can and latch on to them?”

  She flinched. The words hurt more than anything her mom had said. Anything her brother had done. Quinn had to squish her eyes closed to keep the tears from planning an escape route.

  When she was sure her voice would be steady, she looked at him. “I don’t know, Nick. Do I?”

  He jerked the wheel to turn into the parking lot of the dance studio, then flung the vehicle roughly into park.

  He didn’t look at her.

  She wasn’t going to wait around for him to make her feel worse, so she got out of the truck and slammed the door closed.

  Then she pushed into the nearly empty studio and stomped across the wooden floor, throwing her bag on the ground beside where Adam was making notes on a clipboard.

  He looked as good as Nick, despite the bare feet and cutoff sweatpants. He was all unruly hair and dark eyes and caramel skin. A maroon long-sleeved tee did little to hide his build.

  Her hair was a windblown mess, and if she took her sweatshirt off, there was probably a roll of pudge hanging over the waistband of her spandex capris. God only knew what state her makeup was in, after nearly crying in the car.

  Adam glanced up, but she wouldn’t meet his eyes. One kind word and she’d go to pieces.

  Nick hadn’t followed her.

  She wanted to cry for all the wrong reasons.

  Adam set the clipboard down, and she could hear it in his indrawn breath, that he was going to pry. His hands were already reaching out to touch her.

  Just what she needed. Another guy who had no interest in her.

  Quinn swiped at her eyes and grabbed her bag. “I can’t do it tonight, Adam. I’m sorry.”

  “You—wait. Stop, Quinn—what’s wrong?”

  “Not tonight,” she called back. She walked through the back door to the studio, bursting into the cold night air.

  Nick’s truck was on the other side of the building—if he’d bothered to wait at all. Quinn hunched her shoulders and headed for the road.

  What a dick. Everyone else got everything they wanted. Becca had Chris. Nick had Adam. Quinn had nothing. She had a fake boyfriend who gave her a raft of shit the first time someone else was nice to her.

  The thought rang false inside her head, and she told her subconscious to stick it.

  A metro bus was rolling up to the curb. The brakes squealed into the darkness and the door creaked open. Adam took the bus all the time, but Quinn had never tried. At least it was a surefire escape from Nick.

  She climbed the steps and sniffed back the last of her tears. “How much?”

  “One sixty, one way. Three fifty, ride all day.”

  All day. Quinn wondered who would spend the entire day on a bus. Then she realized it was warm in here, and empty aside from the driver. No one to bother her.

  “Ride all night, too?” she asked.

  “We stop running at two.”

  Well, there went that. She counted out a dollar sixty and crammed her money into the slot.

  Once the vehicle started moving, she realized she had no idea where she was going.

  Wasn’t that always the case?

  Her phone chimed. Nick.

  Where did you go?

  Quinn deleted it.

  Then she started a new text.

  Playing sentry again tonight?

  The response text took less than three seconds.

  Why? Need rescuing, baby girl?

  Quinn smiled.

  Now that you mention it, yeah. I do.

  Her phone vibrated almost immediately.

  What’s up?

  I’m on a bus, bound for nowhere.

  Sweetheart, it’s a TRAIN bound for nowhere.

  Her heart gave a little squee at the endearment. It meant nothing and everything all at once. She smiled over her phone while she texted back.

  Well, I’m on a bus with no destination in mind.

  Want me to come get you?

  Quinn stopped and stared at the phone. Was this dangerous? It didn’t feel dangerous. Tyler had had ample opportunity to hurt her last night and he hadn’t.

  When Becca had first told her about finding Chris in the middle of a fight with Tyler and Seth in the parking lot, Quinn’s first question had been, “Why?”

  She’d never gotten a good answer.

  She slid her thumbs across the face of her phone.

  Are more taquitos in my future?

  Play your cards right and there might be a soda, too.

  His texts were teasing, so she wasn’t sure if his offer to come get her was genuine. She didn’t want to get off the bus until she knew for sure.

  Then her phone lit up with a new message.

  Don’t make me ride the bus all night. Where should I pick you up?

  “Excuse me,” she called to the driver. “What’s the next stop?”

  “Annapolis Mall. West side.”

  Next stop is Annapolis Mall. West side.

  Well look at that. You just got upgraded to a soft pretzel. See you in 10.

  CHAPTER 12

  Nick swore at his cell phone for the third time. Or maybe the tenth. He’d lost track.

  “Enough.” Adam reached across his tiny kitchen table and took the phone. He put it behind him on the counter, next to where the coffeemaker was choking out a pot.

  “I’m sorry,” Nick said.

  “It’s all right. I care about her, too.”

  “I’m sorry you didn’t get to rehearse.”

  Adam shrugged. “I’ll make do.”

  But it bothered him. Nick could tell. Adam had less than two weeks until his audition, and Quinn’s temper tantrum might not be for tonight only. “I shouldn’t have set her off in the truck.”

  Adam frowned. “That’s not your fault.”

  Nick blew out a long rush of breath and ran a hand through his hair. He glanced at his phone on the counter. “I just wish she’d answer.”

  “She did answer.”

  Nick gave him a look—but he was right. Quinn had answered. She’d told him she was fine. Then she’d told him to fuck off.

  “I’m worried she’s going to hang out with Tyler, just to piss me off.”

  The coffeemaker beeped, signaling it was done, and Adam stood. “And would that piss you off?”

  His tone was easy, but there was the tiniest bit of an edge hiding there. Nick blinked and realized he was being an idiot.

  “Yeah,” he said. “But not like that. I want Quinn to be happy. But Tyler is not a good guy.”

  “You think he’ll hurt her?”

  He’d hurt her once already—but Nick couldn’t explain that without explaining everything. “I hope not. I don’t
know.”

  Adam fetched milk from the refrigerator and poured some into one mug, leaving the other coffee black. Nick watched this, bemused that Adam had remembered how he took his coffee.

  Adam interrupted his thoughts. “How do you know him?”

  Nick wondered how to answer that without spilling every secret he had. For the first time, he was tempted to tell Adam all of it. His shoulders felt tight with tension—from the fight with Quinn, from school, from his family, from living up to everyone’s expectations.

  “He used to go to school with my older brother. His family and my family—we don’t get along.”

  Adam turned from the counter with mugs in hand. “Why?”

  Because Tyler thinks we should be put to death for something we can’t control.

  Nick rubbed at his eyes. “It’s a long story.”

  He heard the mugs slide onto the table, but jumped when Adam’s hands landed on his shoulders.

  “Relax,” Adam said softly. “Relax.” Then he pressed his thumbs into the muscle there.

  The trapezius muscle, Nick’s brain supplied helpfully.

  God, he was such a nerd.

  Adam’s hands felt amazing. Warm and strong with just enough pressure behind his fingers. But instead of being relaxing, his touch had Nick ready to leap out of his chair. Was this a prelude to something? Obviously, right? But what if it—

  “Relax.” Adam shook him gently. “Are you really this wound up over Quinn?”

  “No. Yes. I don’t know. I feel like I should go get her.”

  “Yeah, and how would that go?”

  Tyler would want to fight. He’d win—Nick could hold his own if he had to, but he didn’t fight dirty. He had Gabriel for that. Tyler would get the upper hand and beat the shit out of him, if Nick didn’t suffocate him first.

  Neither option sounded all that appealing.

  “It would suck,” he said grudgingly.

  “So your families hate each other. Are you guys the Montagues or the Capulets?”

  Nick snorted. “Romeo and Juliet? I don’t think so.”

  But his brain flashed on that day when he was twelve, when Tyler’s sister had died. When Michael had come home soaking wet and terrified. When their parents had told them all to lock themselves in the master bedroom and not come out for anything. It was the first time he could remember seeing his mother frightened.

  It wasn’t the last.

  Adam’s hands brought him back to the present. “Do you ever think that maybe this Tyler guy thinks you are bad for Quinn? That maybe his intentions aren’t evil at all?”

  The thought brought Nick up short.

  “I remember reading something once,” Adam continued, “about divorce. It said that just because someone is a bad husband doesn’t mean they’re a bad father. I think about that a lot, how people have different capacities for failure. And even if you fail in one area doesn’t mean you fail in all of them.”

  Nick ran that through his head a few times. What had Quinn said?

  He still thinks your brother killed his sister. He seemed kinda upset about it.

  Tyler had talked about his dead sister with Quinn? That didn’t seem like something he’d do to get under Nick’s skin.

  Adam’s hands moved lower, along his shoulder blades, his thumbs pressing into the area alongside Nick’s spine.

  “You have great hands,” Nick said without thinking, then blushed.

  Especially when Adam leaned in and breathed along his neck. “You have no idea.”

  Nick shivered.

  Adam brushed a kiss against his neck. His hands eased lower, finding Nick’s rib cage. “Still obsessing about Quinn?”

  Obsessing. Was that what Adam was hearing? Nick had to clear his throat. “Quinn who?”

  “That’s better.” Another slow breath against his skin. “What else has you so uptight?”

  Your hands. My imagination.

  “School,” he murmured. “I’m fourth in my class, and my physics teacher wants to nominate me for some program that will let me take college classes next semester.”

  “You don’t sound happy about it.”

  “I help my older brother run the landscaping business. Gabriel is taking a special course to be a firefighter in the spring, so if I stop helping, too . . .” He let that thought trail off.

  “You told me you were applying to some schools anyway, right? Have you heard back from any?”

  Nick hesitated.

  Adam’s hands went still. “What?”

  “I’ve heard back from all of them.”

  “And?”

  Nick wished they could get back to the sexy talk. That was loaded with pressure, too, but he didn’t want to think about college. “And . . . I haven’t opened any of the envelopes. Or the e-mails.”

  Adam smacked him on the side of the head.

  “Ow.” Nick sat up straight and looked over his shoulder. “What was that for?”

  “That was for you being an idiot.” Adam grabbed Nick’s shoulders and pulled him straighter. “And for your posture, while I’m at it. I’ve been wanting to do that for three days.”

  “What’s wrong with my posture?”

  “What’s wrong with your head is a better question. You probably have acceptance letters in there. Maybe even scholarship offers, if you’re fourth in your class.”

  “I don’t want to talk about school.” His shoulders had tightened back up, and all of a sudden, he didn’t want to be a part of this conversation.

  Adam pulled him back in the chair, using a little more force than was absolutely necessary. “Do your brothers have any idea that you’re sitting on a stack of unopened mail?”

  “No.”

  Adam didn’t say anything, but his hands were slower now, less suggestive.

  “I can feel you judging me,” Nick said.

  “Not judging.” He paused, thoughtful. “Did you work tonight?”

  “Yeah. Nothing big—a little yard maintenance.” He’d ridden the mower while Chris and Michael did the detail work. He’d been glad to have an excuse not to talk. Chris watched him the whole time, but never said a word about the cafeteria outburst.

  Nick should have kept his stupid mouth shut.

  Damn Gabriel.

  “Do you work every night?”

  “No—not really. Sometimes. But Mike’s been busy this week, so he asked me to pick up a few extra nights.”

  “You still have homework to do?”

  “Not a lot.” A lie. But he could probably finish when he got home, if he didn’t fall over from exhaustion. If he was desperate, he could get up early and finish. And he had yet to crack the book on the physics test he’d missed. He still had Thursday night for that.

  “You still worried about Quinn?”

  WTF. Nick shoved Adam’s hands away and started to get up. “I thought the whole point was to be relaxing.”

  Adam grabbed him and jerked him back into the chair again. He held him there and put his lips against Nick’s ear. “It is. But you’re all jacked up worrying about everyone else. I’m starting to wonder who worries about Nicholas.”

  Nick flushed and relaxed back into his hands. “I like that,” he murmured.

  “That no one worries about you?”

  His cheeks warmed further. Someday he’d be able to reconnect his mouth to his brain. “No. The way you said my name.”

  “So I have a thought,” Adam said, leaning closer to run his hands down the front of Nick’s chest. He did it slowly, letting each part of his hand stroke its way down. Fingertips, then palm. Shoulders, then muscle, then nipples.

  Nick hissed in a breath. He wanted him to stop. He wanted him to keep going.

  “What’s your thought?” he said quickly.

  “Why don’t you let me worry for an hour.” Adam’s hands moved lower, finding the hem of Nick’s shirt and skirting below it. Warm fingers brushed bare stomach. Nick jumped and fought for breath.

  Then those fingers slid inside the wai
stband of his jeans.

  Nick froze and captured his hands. Then he couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe.

  Adam’s voice was low and soft, his face against Nick’s neck. “Talk to me.”

  Nick clenched his eyes closed. His thoughts were spinning like a tornado, completely out of control. “I don’t know what you want.”

  Low laughter against his neck. “I don’t think that’s true.”

  Nick thought his cheeks would never cool. That emotional tornado left him scattered and scrambling to pick up the pieces. He couldn’t decide if he was angry or turned on or both. “Don’t tease me.”

  The amusement left Adam’s voice. “No teasing. No judgment. You’re safe here, remember?”

  “I remember.” Nick warred with his thoughts.

  “Talk to me,” Adam whispered.

  “I don’t want to do the wrong thing. I don’t want you to—”

  Adam pulled a hand free and put it over Nick’s mouth. His other arm went across Nick’s chest, making it more of an embrace. “No more worrying. What do you want? Does anyone ever ask you that? What do you want, Nick?”

  No. No one ever asked him that. Nick put a hand over Adam’s, where it rested on his chest. He drew a shuddering breath and shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t know what I want.”

  Adam put a hand against his cheek and turned him, kissing him lightly, sweetly. No pressure, just a brush of lips before drawing back.

  “Well,” said Adam, and Nick could hear the smile in his voice. “Maybe I could give you a few ideas.”

  CHAPTER 13