Gabriel ground words out. “I’m not doing anything.”

“You don’t sound like you’re not doing anything.”

Life would be so much easier if Michael was an idiot.

Michael narrowed his eyes. “Why are you hanging out with Hunter all of a sudden?”

“What difference does it make?” Gabriel heaved against his brother’s hands, throwing his weight into it.

Michael slammed him back into the house. His head cracked against the siding. Hard.

The porch light sizzled and flared for a brief moment. Gabriel heard his brother’s breath catch.

The sound filled Gabriel with shame and pride all at the same time, a sickening euphoric feeling that gripped his chest and churned his stomach, but let him meet his brother’s eyes.

He gave the electricity a tiny push, making it flare again.

“Don’t screw with me, Michael.”

Michael didn’t move. They stood frozen for an eternal second, until the front door flew open.

Nick, his eyes a little wide, his face a little pale. “Michael. Let him go.”

“Go back in the house,” said Michael. But his hands were already loosening.

Gabriel wrenched free, scraping along the siding until he had some distance from his brothers.

But not enough distance that he couldn’t feel their judgment.

All of a sudden, he didn’t want to stay here. He didn’t want to have to walk past them, to go upstairs and do normal things like brush his teeth and wash his face, knowing that his brothers thought he was out of control. Not just out of control, but a murderer.

He couldn’t look at his twin, didn’t want to find accusation or condemnation or, hell, even pity on his face.

He wanted out of here.

But he had nowhere else to go.

Gabriel took a step forward, throwing the door wide again.

He half expected one of them to stop him, to catch his arm or call his name or something. He was ready to argue, to fight, but silence followed him to the top of the stairs.

He’d never felt so isolated. Christ, by the time he shut his bedroom door and locked it, his throat felt tight.

God, he missed Nick.

Knock, he thought. Knock. I’ll apologize. I’ll explain. Knock.

Nothing. Nothing.

He wanted to burn this whole house to the ground.

Gabriel sat on the floor under his window and pressed his forehead against his knees.

If Layne called now, he’d be such a mess that he’d tell her everything.

He fished the phone out of his pocket, staring at it. Praying for exactly that.

But just like everyone else around him, the phone remained silent.

All night long.

CHAPTER 18

Layne cantered her horse along the path in the woods, the breeze in her face stealing tendrils of hair from under her helmet. The sun had barely risen, streamers of red and yellow filtering through the trees to light the trail.

She wasn’t supposed to be riding out here alone, especially when no one was at the farm. Especially bareback. Especially when she’d left her phone sitting on the tack trunk, and if she had a bad fall, she’d have no way to call for help.

Reckless. She didn’t care.

Looking at her phone reminded her of Gabriel’s note, his handwriting in her notebook.

She’d stared at it last night.

She’d even dialed, but never found the courage to actually call.

The trail started downhill, a gentle slope, but at a canter, Layne had to shift her weight and focus. This was why she’d come out here. Stupid circles in a stupid ring would have done nothing to take her mind off Gabriel.

What had Kara said? He is insanely hot.

He was. And he knew it, too. He probably saw Layne as a conquest. He was the kind of guy who’d keep a list of all the girls in school and check each one off when he was done with her. God, she watched him check out Taylor every day.

I’m not perfect either.

Oh, that had sent her heart tripping in her chest for a long while.

Until she remembered that he probably had a whole cache of one-liners.

The cool air made her horse fresh, and he skittered sideways when a bird flew across the trail. She gave him a quick pat on the neck, checking the rein to remind him that she was up here, in control.

Ha. In control.

This was just about the only place she ever felt in control. Of anything.

But at least the horse was fooled. He settled, relaxing into a rolling stride that she could sit all day. The trail was open ahead, the sunlight painting dapples across the grass. Peaceful. She closed her eyes and inhaled.

And then she was in the air, no horse beneath her.

And then she was hitting the ground.

Her fingers still had a firm grip of the reins, one of those things they teach you early. Presumably so the horse wouldn’t get away.

But not only was he getting away, he was also dragging her.

It hurt.

Let go. Let go. Let go. Her fingers wouldn’t work.

Then they did. Layne crumpled into a heap on the path. She wished her helmet could protect her whole body. She hadn’t even hit her head, so a fat lot of good that did. Her hip was making a good case that it would be protesting this venture tomorrow.

The horse must have spooked. The fall had been one of those hard ones where the animal is suddenly gone from underneath you, leaving nothing to catch you but dirt. Stupid, to close her eyes like that. God, what kind of idiot closes her eyes while cantering on the trail?

The same kind of idiot who takes a full ten seconds to realize you should let go of the reins.