Nick snorted with laughter before he could help it, and had to slap a hand over his mouth. It was nervous laughter more than anything. His eyes were wide. No one ever talked to Gabriel like that.

Then Adam sighed and spoke into the phone. “Guess what, sunshine? It’s not about what you want. I’ll tell him you called, okay?”

He didn’t wait for an answer. He disconnected the call.

This time, the phone stayed silent.

Adam looked at him. “He wants to talk to you. That’s all he said.”

Not I’m sorry.

Nick’s emotions weren’t sure how to process that information.

Adam set the phone on the concrete. “Why did you want to call him?”

“I just wanted to make sure he got home.” Nick stared out at the dissipating fog. “I was going to tell him. Last night. That’s why we were at the coffee shop.” He glanced over at Adam. “I keep wondering if it would have turned out any differently.”

“You mean, if he would have hit you either way?”

Nick nodded.

Adam shifted across the concrete to sit beside him again.

“Look, I’m not going to defend your brother. I know he hurt you.” His voice softened. “I know he hurt you a lot. But when he came after me, I don’t think it had anything to do with me being g*y, and everything to do with protecting you. On the phone just now, he wasn’t an ass**le, either. And he could have been.”

“Do you think I should call him back?”

“Do you want to?”

Nick thought about it. He imagined his twin brother standing in the kitchen, deliberating whether to call a third time. Nick wished he could put everything back the way it had been.

Then he glanced at Adam and realized that wasn’t true.

He shook his head. “No, I don’t want to talk to him. Not yet.”

“Okay.” Adam took another sip of coffee. He laced the fingers of his free hand through Nick’s again, and they sat there for the longest time, watching the mist thin and swirl.

Nick hadn’t realized how easy this could be, sitting with someone who wasn’t judging him. Who wasn’t piling expectations on him.

Adam’s phone chimed again, and Nick’s pulse jumped. He should have known it wouldn’t last for long.

But Adam smiled. “Well, look at that,” he said. “Quinn wants to know if we’re still on for dance this afternoon.”

Nick hadn’t realized how worried he’d been about Quinn until that very moment. She was okay. She had to be okay if she was sending a text about dance.

Adam was texting back, talking while his fingers slid across the face of the phone. “Studio classes end at one, so I can meet her after lunch. Want to join me?”

Nick looked away. “She probably doesn’t want to see me.”

Adam poked him. “What do you want?”

“I want . . .” Nick paused, feeling weight in the words. His brothers were probably cursing him this morning, because Saturdays meant large landscaping jobs, and Nick knew Michael had blown one off last night. Quinn definitely didn’t want to see him at practice.

But his words were hanging out there. I want.

Such a stupid, simple phrase, but it felt so foreign.

“You want . . . ?” prompted Adam.

“I want to go with you,” he said, the words a jumbled rush that came out too quiet, completely uncertain.

Adam poked him again, harder. He was smiling. “What was that?”

Nick leaned into him and said, “I want to go with you.”

Another poke. “I can’t hear y—”

Nick trapped those words with a kiss. “I want to go with you.” Another kiss. “And if you’d shut up a second, maybe I could tell you what else I want.”

CHAPTER 28

Quinn leaned against the window of Tyler’s truck and closed her eyes, content.

She’d slept all night.

She’d taken a shower unimpeded.

No social workers or cops had shown up to break down the door or whatever they did in real life.

Her younger brother had responded to texts that yes, he was fine.

And Tyler was driving her to dance.

It had been his idea for her to go.

Actually, he’d narrowed his eyes at her over toast and orange juice and said, “Aren’t you supposed to be rehearsing for some scholarship thing?”

And she’d mumbled and made excuses until he’d all but sent the text to Adam himself.

Tyler was having none of her self-pity. He kept whispering to her, seeming to know every time self-doubts crept into her head to set up camp. “You’re not worthless,” he’d murmur, when she started thinking that maybe it was her fault that her brother had started smoking crack on her bedroom floor. Or, “You are brave,” when thoughts snuck up to talk her out of ever leaving his apartment.

But her favorite was “You are special,” whispered while dropping a chaste kiss on the back of her neck, stroking her hair down her back before moving away.

After going to sleep on a declaration of wanting to kill Nick Merrick, she hadn’t realized Tyler would wake up with a mouth full of Hallmark platitudes.

She loved this side of him, this gentle, thoughtful side. She suspected he didn’t reveal it often, or to many people.

The funny thing was, if Tyler and Nick weren’t mortal enemies, she could see them becoming friends.

“What time are you going to pick me up?” she asked.