“Farsi.”
Her eyes lit with intrigue.
And that was enough for Gabriel. “I’m going to get some food,” he said, turning for the grill.
Usually he’d get stopped half a dozen times when crossing ground at a party. Game recaps, plans for the next weekend, practice strategies.
Tonight? Conversation died when he approached.
He grabbed some burgers and dropped onto an empty chaise lounge by the pool, straddling the cushion to set his plate in front of him. The tiki torches flickered in his direction.
Welcome.
’Sup, he thought.
Some kid across the way was swinging a torch with abandon, and Gabriel could feel the flame’s excitement at the potential for danger. Cloth, paper, whatever. As soon as the fire found fuel, it would flare.
What an idiot.
Despite the music, the air was quiet here by the pool. Gabriel could feel people looking at him, talking about him, but it was easier to ignore them when he wasn’t standing directly in their midst.
And not everyone was talking about him. Some kids by the back door were playing cards. The people in the hot tub had a lively interaction going on—the kind that didn’t exactly involve a lot of talking. Hunter was still talking to Calla, following her into the house now. Interesting. And another couple was going at it hot and heavy at the opposite end of the pool deck. Probably drunk, or they’d never be out here in the open.
He wondered what Layne would do if he walked to her house and started throwing stones at her window.
Gabriel polished off his food and set the plate below his chair, dropping back to stare up at the stars.
A breeze caught the flames and made them flicker.
Play?
He shook his head. Not now.
Then a stronger gust of wind whipped across the pool to sprinkle him with water and blow out the three torches surrounding him.
Nick.
Gabriel flung a surge of power into the torch by his twin, making flames shoot high and spray sparks. Girls shrieked and scattered, including Quinn.
Gabriel smiled.
“That wasn’t very nice.”
He craned his head back. Becca stood there in the darkness. He couldn’t make out her expression, but the displeasure in her voice said enough.
Gabriel looked back at the pool. “Maybe I’m not very nice.”
“Can I sit down?”
He shrugged. “Go ahead. I already lost my wingman.”
She moved forward between the lounges, and he expected her to drop onto the one next to him, but she sat on his. She faced him, her hip against his, the warmth in her body carrying through the gauzy skirt she wore.
His eyes flicked up to hers. “Trying to make Chris jealous?”
“No. I’m trying to figure out what’s up with you.”
“Don’t bother.”
“Nick doesn’t know what he did wrong. You know, he’s beating himself up trying to figure it—”
“Becca, stop.” He glared out at the pool. “Nick did nothing wrong.”
That was the whole problem. Nick never did anything wrong.
“He misses you.”
Gabriel snorted and gestured to the dark tiki torches. “Yeah, he’s got a funny way of showing it.” He fished the lighter out of his pocket and stood to relight them.
Really, he couldn’t take her closeness right now.
He pulled down the first torch and flicked his lighter. Becca stood next to him, and he watched the firelight dance across her cheeks. She looked worried.
He sighed. “Please stop looking at me like that.”
“Are you really starting these fires?” she whispered.
He pulled down the next torch. If he said no, would it make a difference? He could already hear the plea in her tone, the fear behind her whisper.
But then he flicked his lighter, and something beyond Becca caught his eye.
Taylor and Heather had cell phones in their hands, and they were taking pictures—or maybe video—of the couple writhing on the lounge. The girls were giggling, but he couldn’t make out everything they were saying.
He let the flame die and nodded in their direction. “What do you think is going on over there?”
Becca turned and her whole body stiffened. “Hey!” she called. She started storming across the pool deck. “Hey!”
God, she was a ballsy chick. Gabriel followed her.
Taylor and Heather were making wolf whistles, egging the couple on. Some big kid was on top of a much smaller girl in boots and a miniskirt. He couldn’t see her face behind the guy, but he’d worked her skirt up to her waist and her shirt up to her chest, revealing the edge of a bra. Thank god she had tights on, or she’d be giving quite a show.
The guy’s arm was on her shoulder, pinning her there, his hand over her mouth.
The other hand was trying to force the shirt higher. The girl squealed and struggled.
Becca walked right up and punched him in the kidney. “Get off of her, you asshole!”
He barely grunted. Becca was tiny.
Gabriel was not. He slammed the guy into the concrete pool deck.
Ryan Stacey.
“Jesus,” said Gabriel. “You really are an asshole.”
Chris was suddenly there beside him. He must have seen Becca go flying across the pool deck. “Yeah. He is.”
“Ohmigod,” said Taylor, almost breathless with laughter. “I got all of that. Hey, Ryan, that was the best hundred dollars I ever spent. Who’s the prostitute now, bitch?”
Gabriel snapped his head up. The girl was curled against Becca now, and he couldn’t see her face.
Ryan was laughing—he didn’t even seem to care that his head had cracked on the pavement. Obviously hammered. “No wonder her brother is a deaf retard. She’s all deformed under there.”
Layne. Gabriel grabbed the front of Ryan Stacey’s shirt and punched him in the face. And again. And—
“Gabriel. Gabriel.” Someone had his arms. Nick. And Chris. The torches were blazing now, pouring smoke into the sky, illuminating the pool deck like a bonfire. Ryan Stacey’s face was a mess. Gabriel wasn’t even sure he was still conscious. They’d drawn a small crowd, but Gabriel had his eyes locked on the trembling figure in Becca’s arms.
Layne, definitely Layne.
God, he’d been sitting right over there.
Gabriel was frozen, torn between going to Layne or breaking every bone in Ryan’s body. Followed by Taylor’s. Fire was whipping higher into the air, fed by his temper, looking for something more to burn.
“Take their phones,” said Becca. “Break them.”
“Please,” scoffed Taylor. “Like it’s not already online.”
But Chris snatched them anyway, snapping the cases and throwing the pieces into the pool. The girls didn’t look concerned. They looked satisfied.
“And, Gabriel,” said Taylor, “your part in this was too perfect. I didn’t think you’d show up.”
Layne made a choked noise and lifted her head. Her cheeks were red and tear streaked.
Gabriel wanted to break every bone in his own body. He could have stopped this. He’d been right here.
“I’m so sorry,” he said.
She made that strangled noise again and pushed free of Becca. And then she was running, shoving past people, fighting her way toward the road.
Gabriel went after her.
But a hand caught his arm and pulled him back. Nick.
Gabriel shoved him, hard. “What?” he yelled, hearing his voice break. “What the fuck, Nick, what?”
“Here.” Nick was staring back at him, his hand out, his eyes almost haunted. “Here. Take the car. Get her out of here.”
There was too much to say. Gabriel couldn’t speak past the emotion in his throat.
So he closed his fingers around the keys and ran after Layne.
CHAPTER 23
Gabriel caught up to her in Heather’s front yard. Layne was stumbling, her h
ands at her face, her sobbing almost uncontrollable.
He caught her by the arms. Christ, his voice was still breaking. “Layne. Layne, please. Let me—”
She spun, her fists slamming into his chest. For her size, she hit with surprising force, driving her rage into him.
“How could you?” she yelled, her voice thick with tears. “How could you do this?”
“Please. I didn’t know—”
She hit him again. “How could you hate me so much—”
“I don’t hate you.” He caught her arms. “I didn’t know you were there. I would never—”
“Oh my god, please just let me go. Please.”
She was struggling against him, and it made him sick to think of her fighting Ryan Stacey. He let her go.
She staggered across the lawn. “I need to get out of here.”
“Let me take you. I can drive you home—”
“I can’t go home. Just go away. You did this—”
“Goddamn it, Layne.” He caught her again, looking down at her streaked face, her tangled hair. God, she was killing him, with every word, every step. “I did not do this. I would never do this. And I swear to Christ if you don’t let me drive you somewhere, I’m going to go back down there and break that guy’s neck.”
Heather’s front porch light exploded.
Layne jumped and gave a little cry. She was shaking, and Gabriel had no idea whether it was from what Ryan had done—or from what he was doing right now.
But at least she was looking at him, her eyes wide, searching his face.
“Come on,” he said.
She took a deep breath, then nodded.
Gabriel found the car down the road a ways. Layne had her belt buckled and her arms folded tightly across her chest before he even got in, and her eyes were focused out the window. It reminded him of the first night he’d driven her home, when she’d declared so vehemently I’m not Heather Castelline.
Obviously.
Gabriel started the engine and drove toward town. He didn’t have a clear destination in mind, but she’d said she couldn’t go home, and he sure as hell couldn’t take her to his.
At the first stop sign he glanced over. “Did he hurt you?”
Her eyes didn’t leave the window. “No.”
A thousand questions burned his lips, but she was so closed off. She might bolt from the car if he pushed.
He could kill Taylor. He should have told Chris to throw her in the pool.
The air felt sharp, sparking with tension. Gabriel reached out and flicked on the radio, keeping the volume low. One of those guitar ballads rolled through the car, something that felt like it should have been a slow song, but really wasn’t.
Finally, her arms loosened, just a little. “I’m such an idiot. I should have known.”
Her voice had lost the wild emotion and now carried that core of strength he knew lived inside her.
“It’s not your fault,” he said.
“I know,” she said. “Believe me, I’ve seen all the after-school specials. That girl who helped me—she kept telling me, too.”
“Becca. She’s my little brother’s girlfriend.”
Layne swiped at her eyes, looking more angry than tragic now. “Yeah, well, that guy can’t take all the blame. I was the moron who showed up.”
“What were you doing there, anyway?” he said. “I thought you hated Taylor and Heather and all those girls.”
“Oh, I do. Don’t worry.” She paused, biting at her lip. “They tricked me into going.”
“They tricked you? How?”
She looked out the window again. “It’s not important.”
Gabriel let the car drift to a stop at a red light on Ritchie Highway. He turned to look at her.
Layne very obviously did not want to look at him.
“You want a coffee?” he said.
She didn’t answer for a moment. “Sure.”
So he left her in the car in front of Starbucks, coming back with two steaming cups, a wad of napkins, and a few wet packs the barista had fished from behind the counter at his request.
Layne took them in surprise, ripping one open to wipe at her cheeks. “Thanks.”
He drove down to the end of Fort Smallwood Road, to where the pavement turned to crap and a sign announced a county park—though the county seemed to have forgotten about this one long ago. The parking lot wasn’t maintained, and the entrance, once gated, was always open. A shame, really, because the property sported a long stretch of beach, though this passageway to the Chesapeake Bay wasn’t anywhere you’d want to swim. Sometimes, during the day, there’d be kids on the old swing set, but there were newer ones in nicer parts of the county, so that was rare.
He and Nick came out here to set things on fire all the time.
Gabriel parked the SUV. As usual, the lot was deserted. “There are chairs in the back,” he said, “if you want to go sit by the water. Or we can open up the back and sit on the tailgate.”
She licked her lips, staring out the window. “Won’t we get in trouble for being here?”
“This whole peninsula is a public park, but no one comes down this way anymore.” Then he figured out her tone. “We don’t have to stay here,” he said. “But it’s quiet, and no one will bother us.”
Layne took a sip of her coffee, wrapping both hands around the cup like a little girl. “Okay.” She paused. “The tailgate.”
He killed the engine, but left the radio on, the speakers pouring music into the night. The only light came from the dome in the center of the car and the distant industrial plants across the water. Sitting on the tailgate left her face shadowed, almost a silhouette. Crickets and tree frogs sang in the distance, and if he listened carefully, he could pick up the water smacking the rocky breakers.
She perched on the edge of the tailgate, pulling her skirt against her thighs, though there wasn’t enough material to cover much at all.
It made him think of Ryan Stacey again, and Gabriel felt his grip tightening on the coffee cup. He gritted his teeth and looked out at the darkness. “I didn’t know it was you,” he said. “I was sitting like fifteen feet away, and I saw two people making out—”
“We were not making out.”
“But I could have stopped him—”
“You did. I let him kiss me.”
She let him—she let that guy—she—
Layne glanced over. “You stopped him before he could get much farther than that.” She picked at the lid of her coffee cup, her voice bitter. No, rueful. “I should have known better.”
Gabriel needed to get a handle on his thoughts before the car caught on fire. “What on earth made you go to that party?”
“It’s stupid.” She pushed a curled strand of hair back from her face. “My mother has always wanted me to be like those girls. She became friends with all their moms and begged me to spend time with their daughters. She used to buy me expensive clothes. Every other day, she’d come home from the mall with another bag from some hot new store. I never wore them. Some I threw in the charity bin behind the school. Some I shoved in the back of my closet. I hated them. I hated her.”
He remembered the tentative conversation in her bedroom. “You didn’t want to be perfect.”
“Sort of.” She hesitated. “No, I could never be perfect, and she knew it. I think that was the point. It was all this big cover-up. The clothes, the horses, it was all one big sham. Her perfect, imperfect daughter.”
Gabriel remembered Ryan’s little comment before he’d punched the shit out of him. She’s all deformed under there.
It made him think of that moment in the woods, when he would have kissed her. His hands on her ribs, and she’d pulled away.
Had he misread that entirely?
Layne turned and looked at him, her eyes piercing and sharp. “How much did you see? When he was . . . you know. How much did you see?”
Gabriel sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “It was dark,” he said truthfully. �
�Not much of anything.”
“Come on.” Her voice was hard.
Gabriel shifted to look at her. The light at her back made the red turtleneck almost glow. “Really. He didn’t get the shirt over your bra. Honestly, with the light, I bet Taylor couldn’t catch much of anything on her phone.”
“God, she is such a bitch.” Layne made a disgusted sound. “I can’t believe you slept with her.”
Gabriel almost dropped his cup. “What? Who the hell said I slept with her?”
“No one. But . . . in class . . .” She faltered. Even in the dim light, he could see Layne’s cheeks turn pink. “She said—”
“I have never slept with Taylor. Jesus, there’s a locker room joke that—” He shook his head. “Never mind.”
“That what?”
He took a quick sip of coffee. “You know that stupid saying in sex ed about how when you sleep with someone, you’re sleeping with everyone that person has had sex with?”
“Yeah?”
“Let’s just say I have no desire to sleep with the entire team.”
Layne didn’t look entirely convinced. “Today. In class. She mentioned last year.”
This girl was too smart for her own good. He sighed. “All right, look. I was at this one party, and I was sitting on a couch, and she came over and climbed in my lap. I didn’t exactly shove her away. But I did not sleep with her, and we barely spent ten minutes together. She’s on the cheer squad. I play a lot of sports. She flirts with any guy she sees, including half the faculty.”
Layne settled back onto the tailgate, staring out at the night again.
“Come on,” he said. “She just says those things to get a reaction.”
“It works.”
“I still don’t understand how she tricked you.”
“Maybe I’m just an idiot.”
“Oh, I know that’s not true,” he said. “Tell me. Did that loser just walk over and start assaulting you?”
“No.” Her voice was very small. “He was nice. I liked him. He didn’t even assault me. I told you: It didn’t start like that.”
Gabriel snorted. “Couldn’t you tell he was drunk off his ass?”
“No!” Sudden anger swung her around. “How am I supposed to know when someone is drunk?”
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