Breathless Page 10

Nick held his breath and wondered how he wanted that statement to end.

“. . . but some guy named Matt just called me and said Quinn was passed out on the beach.”

Wait. “What? Quinn’s where?”

“Sandy Point. He said he picked her up outside a bar, and she—”

“Outside a bar?” Nick’s thoughts took a nosedive. He had to fight to keep his voice down. God, he should have snuck her in the house. “Is she okay? Who’s this Matt guy?”

“I don’t know. He said she’s okay, just drunk, and he didn’t want to try to put her on his motorcycle, but he didn’t want to leave her alone, and there was another guy yelling in the background—”

“His motorcycle?” What the hell had Quinn gotten herself involved in?

“I don’t know.” Adam’s voice was tense with worry. He paused. “I don’t have a car.”

Oh. So that’s why he’d called.

“I’ll go get her,” Nick said. “Thanks for letting me know.”

Another hesitation. “If she needs a place to crash, you can bring her here.”

Guilt was jabbing Nick with a pitchfork. He should have brought her here. But Adam’s voice implied that he was no stranger to Quinn’s problems at home, either. “Your folks won’t mind?”

“I have an apartment. Give me your cell. I’ll text you the address.”

When Nick hung up, Gabriel was in the kitchen doorway. He was wearing sweatpants and an old T-shirt, and his hair stuck up in tufts. “What’s going on?”

“Quinn’s drunk on the beach and needs someone to pick her up.” He glanced at the silent stairwell. “Cover for me, okay?”

“Sure.” Gabriel ran a hand through his hair, then rubbed at his eyes. “Let me put some clothes on. I can come with you.”

Nick opened his mouth to accept—then reconsidered. Gabriel and Quinn were like oil and vinegar. If she was already in a bad place, adding Gabriel to the mix would just make things worse.

Hell, Gabriel would probably pick a fight on the beach.

And honestly, Nick didn’t want him to meet Adam.

What the hell was he thinking? He shook it off.

“No,” he said, “I’m just going to run her over to her dance friend’s house.”

His twin was watching him. “You sure, Nicky?”

“Yeah.” His phone chimed. Nick glanced at it.

An unknown number, with an address. Then a second text.

You want me to go with you to get her?

Nick stared at that line a minute longer than he needed to.

Then he glanced up at Gabriel. “Don’t worry. Quinn’s friend is going to help.”

The air in the truck cab stung Nick’s cheeks and turned his breath to fog.

He needed to chill the hell out.

Adam was sitting in the passenger seat, his hands over the vents. “Cold tonight.”


“Thanks for driving.”

Nick shrugged and found his mouth didn’t want to form words. He reached over and kicked up the heat a few more notches.

“Hey,” Adam said softly.

Nick almost didn’t want to glance over.

But Adam continued. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. Earlier. You know.”

Nick wasn’t sure what the safe answer to that was. He ran a hand through his hair, feeling it stand up in tufts the way Gabriel’s had back in the kitchen.

What had Quinn said? Identical on the outside, polar opposites on the inside.

“It’s cool.” Even his voice sounded strangled.

But Adam took that at face value, turning his head to look out at the night. They drove in complete silence until Nick realized he was going to have to turn on the radio or talk.

Music didn’t seem like a good idea.

“Do you think she’s all right?” Nick said. “Did that guy seem—”

Adam didn’t look away from the window. His voice was resigned. “He said she’d been ranting about some guy named Nick all night, and then she drank half a bottle of tequila and passed out in the sand. He said my number was the first one in her contacts.”


Adam glanced over. “You two have a fight?”

There was absolutely no way Nick could break it down, right here and now. So he just shrugged noncommittally.

Adam bristled. “Look, if you have a problem with me—”

“I don’t.” They came to a stop light, and Nick looked at him. The street lights shined through the windshield and caught the caramel highlights in Adam’s skin, painting embers in his hair.

Nick rubbed his eyes and looked back at the road. “I don’t have a problem with you at all.” He paused. “Quinn and I—we had a misunderstanding. I was trying to help her, but she slammed the door in my face.”

“How long have you been seeing each other?”

“Couple weeks.”

“I’d ask if it was serious, but I think I already know.”

Nick frowned. “What does that mean?”

“If a girl’s slamming a door on you two weeks in, it doesn’t exactly bode well for the rest of the relationship.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Nick sighed. Unfortunately, Quinn and drama seemed to go hand in hand.

The cab was starting to warm up. He reached for the controls to dial back the air—at exactly the same time Adam stretched out an arm to do the same thing. Their fingers brushed.

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