Nick glanced at his own door. “I’m tired.”

“Nicky.” Gabriel’s voice was rough. “Nicky, I just—”

“Stop,” said Nick. He realized he didn’t want to listen to this.

He didn’t want to hear it. He wished he had stayed with Adam, and Michael’s worry be damned. He wanted to run to his room and slam the door and never face his twin brother again.

No. That wasn’t true.

Nick stepped up to Gabriel and kept his voice very low. “Save it. Don’t apologize. I might have saved your life, but that doesn’t mean we’re okay. You said in the car that you wished you knew why I was keeping something from you. I guess you got your answer, didn’t you?”

Gabriel visibly flinched. “Nicky—”

“Stop calling me that. Stop talking to me. You can’t undo what you did. Ever. Do you understand that?”

He didn’t wait for an answer but turned for his bedroom. He didn’t bother with slamming his door. He just pushed it closed.

For half a second, he wished Gabriel would push it open.

He didn’t.

Nick stared at the paneled wood and wondered if what he’d said was true.

You can’t undo what you did. Ever.

He thought of Tyler coming back for Quinn. Or in the woods, grabbing Nick’s arms and reminding him of past wrongs, feeding him enough power to stop the Guide.

Or later, Tyler with a gun, pulling a trigger to save Michael.

Risking his life. Tying himself to their fate.

Had that undone the years of torment?

Nick wasn’t sure.

He thought of everyone around him, what they wanted, what they needed. It felt so natural, so comfortable, rearranging what he wanted to fit what he thought they needed.

He almost went back into the hallway to listen to his twin brother.

But then he stopped. He thought about what he wanted.

What he needed.

Without hesitation, he went to his desk and pulled out the stack of college envelopes he’d hidden.

Then he slid his finger under the first flap and started ripping.

CHAPTER 34

Quinn was in French class Wednesday morning when the call from the guidance office came.

And just like that, she knew.

She’d been living with Adam, and she’d told him it would only be a few days, until her mom dried out. He’d told her she could stay as long as she needed. And the longer she went with a quiet home, a clean shower, and eight hours of sleep, the less she wanted to leave.

But she knew that was unrealistic. Adam had one bedroom and one bathroom. He was dating Nick, and she felt like more of a third wheel with them than she had with Chris and Becca.

She hadn’t heard from Tyler since she’d seen him kill the Guide.

She wasn’t sure she wanted to talk to him, either, but it hurt that he hadn’t reached out to her.

And now, walking down empty school hallways, terror settled into her muscles, slowing her pace.

They couldn’t make her go somewhere, could they? Brittany Asher had been in foster care, and she’d told horror stories around the lunch table about gross foster fathers sneaking into her room in the middle of the night. Or foster mothers whose tempers would rival Quinn’s mom’s.

Quinn stopped in front of the door to the office.

She couldn’t breathe. Her eyes blurred.

She had to run. She could hide.

“Quinn?”

Quinn swiped a sleeve over her eyes. Becca’s mother stood there, signing in for a visit to the office. Quinn almost didn’t recognize her in street clothes—the woman practically lived in nursing scrubs.

And Quinn was standing here with a running nose and heaving shoulders.

Mrs. Chandler abandoned the sign-in book and put her hands on Quinn’s shoulders, rubbing gently. “Are you okay, sweetie?”

Quinn shook her head. “I don’t—I don’t—they’re going to take me—”

Then she couldn’t hold it in anymore, and she was crying on Mrs. Chandler’s shoulder, clutching at her sturdy form. This was what a mother was supposed to be like: all soft curves and gentle hands and quiet support.

“Please don’t let them take me somewhere,” Quinn said, clinging to any possibility that an adult could fix this. She knew she wasn’t making sense, but she couldn’t stop begging. “I want to go home. Will you tell them it’s okay? Tell them to let me go home. Please—”

“You can’t go home,” Mrs. Chandler said gently. “Not now, Quinn.”

Quinn cried harder. She couldn’t stop shaking. “Please.

Please help me.”

“Oh, I’m going to do that. Calm down now.” She stroked Quinn’s back. “Let’s go inside and talk about it. We’re supposed to be doing this with your guidance counselor.”

Quinn lifted her head. “What?”

Mrs. Chandler pulled tissues out of her pocket. “I called to set up the meeting. I just found out about your mother, and your brothers, and what’s been going on in that house of yours.”

Quinn sniffed and swiped at her eyes. “But I didn’t—Becca doesn’t know—”

“Well, she will soon. If I get my way in here, you and your younger brother are going to stay with me until your mother can get into a treatment program.”

“But—but—”

“But nothing, Quinn.” Her voice was gentle, but stern. “I’ve always told you that my door is open to you. We’ve never had any secrets between us. I wish you’d told me what you were going through.”