Secret (Elemental) Read online

  Adam eased in close to him, until their chests were touching. He put a hand against Nick’s cheek and kissed him. “Because it’s easier to turn off worries in the dark.”

  Nick met his eyes in the darkness. “Yours or mine?”

  “Both.” Then Adam kissed him again, a broad hand exploring Nick’s chest. Nick touched his face, his shoulder, letting his hands roam. His teeth nipped at Adam’s lip, then his jaw.

  Adam made a soft sound, a good sound. Nick did it again, biting a little harder. The room felt ten degrees warmer. Maybe twenty. He had to be doing it, but he didn’t care.

  Adam trapped one of Nick’s legs under his and shifted closer, pressing into him until there was no doubt he was happy to be there. Now Nick couldn’t help the low moan that escaped his throat. His breathing quickened, thrusting his chest into Adam’s with every inhale.

  Adam’s hand drifted lower, finding Nick’s stomach, slow fingers sliding along the waistband of his jeans.

  Adam’s hands, his mouth—Nick couldn’t think. His body was acting on instinct, and he couldn’t process every emotion.

  Especially when Adam stopped teasing and stroked his hand over the front of Nick’s jeans. No hesitation, no gentleness, but enough grip to steal every thought from Nick’s head. He sucked in a breath. The room spun.

  “Too much?” whispered Adam.

  “Not enough.”

  Deft fingers flipped the button loose. Before Nick could contemplate exactly what that meant, Adam was touching him.

  Nick cried out. Adam captured the sound with a kiss.

  He never wanted this moment to end.

  And then it did.

  Someone called his name and the overhead light flipped on. Suddenly Nick was scrambling to right himself.

  Then Hunter was swiftly backing out of the room, saying, “Oh. Oh, shit. I am—I’m going—I’m sorry—”

  He slammed the door. Nick heard his footsteps on the stairs as he jogged down.

  “Fuck,” said Nick. He sat up and pressed his hands into his eyes. He was shaking and he couldn’t stop. His emotions couldn’t handle the abrupt one-eighty. Part of him wanted to cry and another part wanted to punch something. “Fuck.”

  Adam’s hands touched his shoulders. “It’s okay,” he said softly. “It’s okay.”

  “It’s not okay. He’ll tell—I can’t—” His voice broke.

  Hunter would tell Gabriel. He might be telling him right now. Nick could imagine the text messages. Dude. Just found your brother with another guy. No, seriously.

  Nick choked on his breath. The heat in the room was turning into a bitter chill. He shivered.

  Adam’s arms came around him from behind, holding him. “It’ll be okay.” He brushed a kiss against Nick’s hair. “I promise. It’ll be—”

  Nick jerked free and hit him in the chest, shoving him away with a force driven by rage and fear. “It is not okay!”

  As soon as he did it, he regretted it. With the light on, he could see every ounce of hurt in Adam’s eyes. Every ounce of disappointment.

  Every ounce of anger.

  Nick took a breath. “I’m sorry. Adam—wait.”

  But Adam was already pulling his shirt on, shoving his phone into his pocket, heading for the door.

  Nick went after him, catching his arm. “Please,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

  Adam stopped, but he didn’t look at him. “Let me go, Nick.”

  “I don’t want to.” He paused and moved closer. “I’m sorry. I didn’t—I wasn’t ready for that—”

  “You know what?” Adam looked at him now. “I’ve heard it before, okay?”

  Nick jerked back. “I would never hurt you.”

  “Too late.” Adam pulled the door open and kept his voice low. “Let me go. Now.”

  Nick couldn’t take the pain in his voice. He’d build a rainbow banner in the front hall announcing his sexuality if it would fix this. “Please. Adam, stay. Please.”

  Now Adam turned and shoved him away, dislodging Nick’s grip. “I told you to let me go.” He didn’t wait for a response, just walked out the door.

  Nick followed, buttoning his pants as he jogged down the steps after him. He had no shoes, no shirt, but he was ready to follow Adam down the street barefoot if he had to.

  “Stop,” he pleaded. “Wait—wait. At least let me walk you to the bus stop.”

  “I’m not a girl, Nick.” Adam didn’t even hesitate at the front door.

  “Please wait. Please—I’m sorry.”

  Adam rounded on him on the porch. His eyes were shining in the light. “You know what sucks about sorry? It’s the worst word in the world. Because it always happens after you fuck up something good.”

  Then he turned and started walking. Nick went after him again. Wind whipped between them, whispering of Adam’s fury.

  Adam whirled. “Don’t you follow me. I don’t want you near me right now. Do you understand? You’re so worried about what everyone else will think? I’ll make it real easy for you.”

  “Stop it. Let’s talk about this.”

  “What’s to talk about? You care more about what people think than you care about me. Crystal clear. Message received.” He started walking again.

  Nick took a step, but Adam called over his shoulder. “You follow me, and I’m calling the cops.”

  He was serious. Nick could feel it in the air between them.

  He could also tell that Adam was crying.

  It broke his heart and almost sent him running down the driveway.

  Instead, he dropped onto the wooden steps and watched Adam walk, casting his senses far and wide, feeling Adam’s presence even after he disappeared from view. He stayed there, holding on to that tiny connection, until Adam stepped out of range or got on a bus.

  Nick lost the sense. Adam was gone.

  CHAPTER 19

  Nick eventually had to go back in the house.

  Hunter was messing around in the kitchen. Nick had no idea what he was doing. He didn’t want to face him, but his stomach was in knots wondering if Hunter had texted anything to his brothers. Sitting in his room waiting for them to come home was a little too much like sitting on death row.

  He found his shirt on his bedroom floor and went back downstairs.

  But once he was there, he couldn’t walk down the hallway. He sat at the bottom of the steps and put his head in his hands.

  He didn’t want to cry, but apparently his emotions didn’t give a crap about what he wanted.

  He’d fucked this up with Adam. He didn’t even know how to fix it.

  He didn’t even know if he could.

  You’re going to break my heart. I can feel it.

  Yeah, he’d sure lived up to that.

  He wished he could talk to Quinn, but he’d fucked that up, too.

  The air told him Hunter was in the hallway before he heard him.

  Nice. Why couldn’t the air have told him Hunter was coming into his frigging bedroom?

  You might’ve been distracted by Adam’s hand down your pants.

  Nick couldn’t look at Hunter. He swiped the last tears off his cheeks. This was so humiliating. All he needed now was for Gabriel to walk through the door.

  Hunter stopped beside the staircase bannister. He didn’t say anything for a long moment.

  Nick stared at his shoes and waited, ready for mockery. Derision. Anger. Disgust. Something.

  “I made you a cup of coffee,” said Hunter.

  Surprised, Nick looked up, but only halfway, to see that Hunter carried two mugs.

  Coffee. So unexpected that it hit Nick like a fist to the face. Honestly, a real fist to the face would have been less surprising. He was so on edge that he was ready for Hunter to say Just kidding and dump it in his lap.

  “If you want,” Hunter said. “I thought you might need some.”

  No malice in his voice, but Nick still couldn’t look at him. He reached out and wrapped his hands around the mug, inhaling the steam. “Thanks.�
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  “Can I sit down?”

  Nick nodded.

  Hunter eased onto the step beside him. “That—that sucked.”

  Nick stared at his coffee. Was Hunter looking for an apology? Or offering one? Tension crawled across his shoulders and dug in its claws.

  “I’m really sorry,” Hunter said quietly. He was staring at his own mug. “I am really, really—”

  “It’s not your fault.” He should have closed the door. Or hung a sign.

  Or really, he should have turned Adam down to begin with.

  Hunter rubbed at the back of his neck. “I didn’t think anyone was home, but then I came in and it was like ninety degrees in here. Your light was off, so I thought maybe you were having a nightmare, especially when . . .” Hunter winced. “Um, when you cried out—”

  He broke off, and Nick could feel his embarrassment.

  But that was it. Just embarrassment. None of those other things.

  Nick cut a glance to the side. He had to clear his throat. “I left the door open so I could hear if someone came home.”

  “I let Casper run for a while. I came in the back door.”

  And, really, Nick had been so wrapped up in Adam that a marching band could have come through the front door and he wouldn’t have noticed.

  The suspense was killing him. His voice was rough. “What did you tell my brothers?”

  “Are you crazy? Nothing.” Hunter hesitated, and his voice turned careful. “They don’t know?”

  Nick shook his head.

  Hunter let out a sigh. “That’s kind of a relief. I thought maybe I was the only one who wasn’t in on the secret.” Another pause, and his voice held the slightest bit of fascination. “Didn’t you sneak Quinn into your bed, like, two nights ago?”

  Nick twisted the mug in his hands. He still hadn’t taken a sip. “I’m not sleeping with Quinn. She needed a place to get away from her family.”

  “So your room is kind of like a haven for the lost and misdirected.”

  Nick looked at him. Hunter’s voice was vaguely teasing. He had no idea how to read this. He’d been so ready for an attack that a simple conversation felt like a trap.

  “Quinn knows. About me. She’s a friend.”

  “Does anyone else know?”

  Nick thought about Chris, and his promise to keep a secret. “I don’t think so.”

  “Who’s the guy? Does he go to our school?”

  “Adam.” Nick swallowed. “No, he’s in college. He’s a dancer. A friend of Quinn’s.”

  “How long has this been going on?”

  “Not long.” He paused. “A few weeks. I met him that week school was closed.” He felt like they were side-stepping around something important, and it was killing him. “Look, if you want to change where you sleep, I get it. I can sleep on the couch, or—”

  “Why would I want to change where I sleep?” Hunter looked at him like he was nuts.

  “Aren’t you bothered?”

  Hunter rubbed at his jaw and gave a short laugh. He was blushing. “Okay, I’m not going to lie. That totally wasn’t what I expected to find when I hit the light switch. But I’m just—I’m surprised. I had no idea. But I’m not upset about it.”

  Nick studied him. He wasn’t sure what to say.

  Hunter studied him back. “For what it’s worth, I think you should tell your brothers. Gabriel thinks Quinn is jerking you around. I had to talk him out of going off on her today.”

  Nick made a disgusted noise. “That would’ve been spectacular.”

  “He’s worried about you.”

  “Yeah, okay.” He paused and picked up his coffee mug, taking a sip so he didn’t have to say anything else. Hunter sat there quietly and didn’t say anything, either.

  But it was nice, Nick realized, to sit with someone who knew yet wasn’t openly judging him.

  Adam hadn’t judged him, either. Nick felt fresh tears come to his eyes, and he tried to pinch them away.

  “Did you guys have a fight?” said Hunter. “You and Adam?” He hesitated, and sounded embarrassed again. “I heard a little, when you came down the stairs.”

  Nick nodded. “When you walked in—I panicked. I didn’t exactly take it well.”

  “Man, I am so sorry.”

  “No, it’s not your fault. It was mine. He left.” He swiped at his eyes again. “Jesus, I wish I could stop fucking crying. So gay, right?”

  Hunter put a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t do that to yourself, Nick.”

  Nick froze. Until Hunter touched him, he hadn’t realized how much he’d expected this revelation to bring about nothing but revulsion.

  In a flash, a memory came to him. He was standing at the stove with his mother, learning how to make macaroni and cheese. He had to be eleven or so. She’d put an arm around him and kissed him on the top of the head.

  He’d leaned into the contact, and she’d said, “You’re the only one who still lets me do that. My gentle boy.”

  He’d let her do it still, if he could. He missed her touch more than anything.

  She wouldn’t have judged him. He knew. He could have told her.

  He rubbed his hands down his face before his eyes could get ready for a fresh round.

  “Are you going to tell Gabriel?” he asked.

  “No,” said Hunter. His voice changed and he looked over. “Do you want me to?”

  Well, that was a loaded question.

  Nick finally shook his head. “No. You’d seriously keep it a secret?” he said skeptically. “He’s your best friend.”

  “I know a lot about keeping secrets,” Hunter said. “And this one isn’t mine to tell. But I know it’s going to tear you up until you let it go.”

  Nick knew that. This secret already was tearing him up.

  A key pressed into the front door, and Nick jumped. He knew—knew—it was his twin brother. He quickly wiped his eyes on his sleeve and took a quick gulp of coffee. He’d run for his room, but he’d never make it up the stairs before Gabriel came in the house.

  With a quick flash of fury, he wanted to tell him. He wanted to fling the truth in Gabriel’s face. He wanted to pick a fight, to let this rage and fear and pain pour into something.

  Then Gabriel was in the foyer and Nick couldn’t breathe.

  Gabriel took one look at them and shook his head before pushing between them to head upstairs. He smacked Hunter on the back of the head. “Leave my brother alone, jackass. He’s already got enough freaks pining after him.”

  It was a miracle Nick didn’t shatter the mug between his hands.

  Hunter didn’t move until Gabriel disappeared into the bathroom. Then he said softly, “Look, I get it. Why you don’t want to tell him.”

  Nick had to put the mug down or he was going to spill coffee everywhere. “Really? You sure? He’s so subtle.”

  “He doesn’t understand—”

  “No, but I do. He thinks gay guys are creepy freaks. Got it.” Nick didn’t want to stay here. He was almost shaking with rage. He couldn’t imagine sleeping under the same roof as his brother.

  But he had nowhere to go.

  Hunter took a breath. “He doesn’t think you are a creepy freak, Nick. I think you should give him a chance.”

  “Fuck him. He doesn’t deserve a chance.”

  “Wow.” Hunter pushed the hair back from his face. “All right. Your secret, your call.” He stood.

  “Hey,” Nick said, losing some of the rage. “Thanks. It—it means a lot.”

  “No problem.” Hunter paused and leaned against the bannister. “You’re wrong, by the way.”

  “I’m wrong?”

  “I’m not his best friend, Nick. You are.”

  CHAPTER 20

  Quinn studied herself in Tyler’s bathroom mirror. Steam clouded the glass, but she could make out her face, her neck, and the edge of the towel wrapped around her body. A shadowed bruise remained across her cheek, but the swelling was gone, along with her headache.

  She wa
s glad for the lingering bruise. She didn’t want to forget her mother’s voice or the way she’d swung that trophy.

  Or the things she’d said.

  Whore. You ruin everything.

  The worst part was, Quinn believed her mother. Hell, she had proof. She dated guy after guy who was perfectly content to sleep with her and shell out the bucks for a movie or a dinner, but when she needed a friend? Yeah, busy. Or the dance team at school, who’d kicked her to the curb for a bad attitude. Well, who could blame her, with those bitchy girls. Attitude was just a way to endure it all.

  Maybe that was her fault, after all. Maybe she had ruined it.

  But then Nick. And Becca. No one wanted her. No one needed her. Even when she was needed—like for Adam’s dance audition—she couldn’t get it together to show up with any regularity. Clearly her fault.

  Besides, it wasn’t like Adam had asked what was wrong when she’d texted him earlier. He’d almost brushed her off like he’d expected her to space out. Suddenly furious, Quinn picked up her phone to read the text again.

  No worries, he’d said. Let me know when you can meet again.

  Okay, maybe she was reading negativity into that. He didn’t know what was going on. Maybe she should have texted something like, Sorry. My room was turned into a crack den. Catch you tomorrow maybe?

  Yeah, and then what would have happened? He probably wouldn’t have believed her.

  Quinn remembered this one time her mom had thrown a knife at her head. Two years ago, the first week of freshman year. They’d been screaming about something inconsequential—as usual—and her mother had grabbed a steak knife from the block on the counter and flung it at her.

  Quinn had run to Becca’s, using the key her best friend’s mom had provided, sitting shaking in a kitchen chair until Becca came home.

  Becca had thought she was being overdramatic. “A knife,” she’d said, her voice ringing with skepticism. “Come on, Quinn.”

  And Quinn had been worried she’d alienate the only friend she had, so she’d recanted her story.

  Becca never brought it up again.

  Admittedly, it was rarely that bad back in those days. Her mom had been normal enough, coming to Quinn’s school events on occasion, mingling with other parents like she didn’t come home and knock back a bottle of Jack Daniel’s every other night.