Secret (Elemental) Read online

  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.

  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 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 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?”

  “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 hal
f-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?”

  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.

  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.”

  CHAPTER 22

  Once they were sitting there with menus, Nick didn’t even bother reading his. When the waitress came around, he ordered a soda and handed her the folded cardboard.

  Michael ordered enough food to feed an army.

  “You’re so fidgety,” Michael said.

  “I don’t know what we’re doing here. We can’t afford to blow off a job.”

  “First of all, I’m not blowing it off. I’ll pick it up over the weekend. Second, what do you know about what we can afford?”

  Nick gave him a look. “I do the bookkeeping.”

  “For the business. Not for the family.”

  “What’s the difference?”

  Michael laughed. “A lot. If we only had the business to live on, I’d be worried.”

  “We don’t?”

  “No.” His brother frowned. “Have you been worried about that?”

  “About how we were going to get through the winter? Yeah.”

  Michael winced. “Look, we’ll be okay through the winter. Mom and Dad had life insurance, and there’s not a lot left, but there’s some. I try not to touch it, because I never know when we’ll have a real emergency, but it’s more than enough to fill in the cracks. Besides, Dad always said to have three months in savings as a reserve, so I’ve got that, too.”

  Nick stared at him.

  “What?” said Michael.

  “Nothing.” Nick rubbed at the back of his neck. For months, he’d worried about the finances, had felt a personal obligation to make sure the business brought in as much cash as possible. He’d seen the bottom line of the business creep closer and closer toward the red as they took bigger jobs and needed more supplies. He’d worried about college and leaving his brothers without help.

  He’d had no idea that Michael had a safety net.

  “I wish you’d said something,” said Michael.

  “I didn’t want to stress you out.”

  “Please. That’s like a constant state of being.”

  The waitress brought their drinks, followed by the basket of onion rings and the steamed shrimp that Michael had ordered for appetizers.

  Nick stared at the food and realized he was starving.

  “Go ahead,” said Michael. “I knew you’d change your mind once it was in front of you.”

  Nick grabbed a shrimp and started peeling. It felt better to have something to do with his hands. At least he couldn’t check his phone every ten seconds.

  “Sometimes I forget,” Michael said slowly while peeling his own shrimp, “that you’re the same age as Gabriel, and not the same age as me.”

  “You mean, aside from the fact that we’re identical and all?”

  Michael gave him a rueful look. “No, I mean sometimes I forget that you’re still just as much a kid as he is.”

  Nick peeled another shrimp and didn’t say anything to that.

  “That’s not an insult,” said Michael.

  “Oh. Okay.”

  “Actually . . .” began Michael—but he stopped there. He ran a hand across his newly short hair. Gabriel had asked him when he was shipping out, but Nick liked it. It made Michael look older, more serious and less angry.

  Nick hadn’t said so. Stupidly, he felt like any acknowledgment of a guy’s looks would show his hand.

  He kept his eyes on his food. “Actually what?”

  “Sometimes I forget to pay attention.”

  “Attention to what?”

  “To you. I think I’ve got a pretty good handle on Chris and Gabriel. I know when they’re veering off the rails. You’re a little more challenging.”

  Nick met his ey
es. “I’m all right, Michael. I’ll work it out.”

  Michael picked up an onion ring. “See, that’s why you’re tough to crack. Even keeled, nothing wrong. I’d almost buy it if I hadn’t frozen my ass off on the drive here.”

  “I was just pissed at Tyler.”

  “Yeah, and who else?”

  “I really don’t feel like sitting through an interrogation.”

  Michael shrugged. “I’m not interrogating you. Talk or not.”

  “Not.”

  So they ate in silence. When the waitress brought platters of ribs, Michael thanked her, but Nick remained silent.

  He wished Michael had pushed. Did everyone think he had it all together? He felt like his life was a hot mess of lies and secrets and betrayals.

  Quinn.

  His fury had faded, but now he felt bewildered. Why had she told Tyler? Why? Why was she spending time with him? Was he the one who’d hit her in the face?

  Or was Nick misreading everything?

  He used his fork to pull a new section of ribs apart and kept his eyes on his plate. “Will you tell me what really happened with Tyler and Emily, that day at the quarry?”

  They’d been silent for at least fifteen minutes, and Michael set his food down and wiped his hands. His voice was soft, but not empty. “You know what happened, Nick.”

  “I know she—” He stopped and cleared his throat. He knew she’d died. He knew what had happened after. Not the details of before. Suddenly this felt cruel, making his brother relive it. “Never mind.”

  “No, I’ll tell you.” Michael hesitated. “She worked the counter at that sports place on Mountain Road. I always used the batting cages. Remember, I used to take you guys there?”

  Nick did remember. He hadn’t thought about it for years, but he remembered learning how to hold a bat, how to swing. It was one of the few sports he’d played better than Gabriel. He didn’t like playing baseball, not really, but he’d liked swinging the bat in those cages. He didn’t recognize it then, but he knew now: the air had told him everything. The speed of the ball, when to swing.

  “She hated me,” Michael continued. “At least at first. She tried to chase me out of there—even had her parents call Mom and Dad and threaten them. I just wanted to play ball. I was pissed. Split a crack down the middle of the parking lot, right in front of her. The deal was brand new. I thought she’d turn me in for sure.”