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 acknowledg-ment 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 eyes. “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.”

“She didn’t?”

Michael shook his head, then smiled a little sadly. “She didn’t.

It started . . . something.”

Nick didn’t smile, because he knew how this story ended.

“Something.”

“We never went out or anything. It never got that far. Just . . .

there was something there. But then there was her family, too.

Tyler was young, but he had a lot of friends. They hid in the back of the truck and jumped me. Tyler put a butane lighter against my face and I couldn’t control myself. I almost killed them.”

“But you didn’t.”

Michael’s expression tightened. “No, I didn’t, and I’ve wondered a thousand times how that day would have ended differently if I’d killed them right then.”

The waitress appeared beside their table. “Can I bring you anything else?”

Michael cleared his throat. “I would really, really like a beer.

Anything on tap.”

She hustled off.

“First time I haven’t gotten carded,” said Michael.

“Haircut,” said Nick.

“I owe you.” Michael paused and his voice resumed its former gravity. “We ran. Emily and me. We took a trail down to the back side of the quarry. Tyler and his friends chased us. We jumped in the water and swam like hell. She wasn’t a strong swimmer, but I knew if we could get near the other kids who were swimming on the far side, they’d have to back off.”