Stars scattered overhead, spinning wildly every time she moved her eyes. She lay in the sand, beside a roaring bonfire that seemed to stretch a mile high. The heat was intense, forcing sweat from her skin. Her head pounded like her mother kept swinging that trophy over and over again.

Tyler crouched over her, stroking his finger along her cheek, so lightly that Quinn barely felt it. “She broke the skin, too.”

Quinn sniffed and put a hand to her eyes, but she felt the edge of the swelling and dropped her hand. “I don’t—I don’t know why she hates me.”

“I don’t think she hates you, baby girl,” he said. “I think she hates herself.”

She gave half a choked sob. “I feel ridiculous when you call me that.”

“Do you want me to stop?”

She shook her head. The motion hurt. She wanted to throw up. Nausea meant broken bones, didn’t it? She was terrified to touch her cheek, to feel whether anything would shift.

“Heal it,” she said. “Please.”

“Quinn—” His voice was tight. Distressed. “Maybe I should just take you to the hospital. This was a bad idea.”

“No. No, I’m okay.” She struggled to get her arm underneath her.

Wrong idea. The horizon shifted. So did the contents of her stomach. She gagged and almost threw up.

“Whoa,” said Tyler. He gently eased her back down. The fire seemed to blaze brighter, or maybe her eyes were playing tricks.

“Are you worried?” she said.

“Worried?” He leaned close, his eyes picking up the glow from the fire.

“That you can’t do it?”

He grimaced and looked at the fire. “No.”

She wanted to punch him, but she’d probably end up puking all over him instead. “Then what—why won’t you help me?” A thought occurred to her and she started crying again, shaking sobs that made her head pulse with pain. “Do you hate me, too?

Did I f**k it up with you, too? Did I—”

“No! No, Quinn. No.” He leaned close again, pressing a hand to her cheek. His palm was fire-hot, but it didn’t hurt. Instead, she wanted to lean into it.

Then heat surged through her veins, fire swirling through every blood vessel, making her gasp.

“I’m not worried because I don’t think I can help you,” Tyler said quietly, his eyes afraid, his expression intense. His voice dropped until she could barely hear him over the flames. “I’m worried because I know I can.”

CHAPTER 18

When Adam knocked on the front door, eagerness and panic were waging a full-on wrestling match in Nick’s stomach. What was he supposed to do, text everyone something like, Just want to make sure you’ll all be out past eleven. Nothing to see here. Just me and my textbook.

He’d taken the fastest shower in the history of time and changed clothes, but it left him feeling more on edge. The whole five minutes he’d been in the shower, he worried Adam would show up at the same time as one of his brothers.

But now Adam was here, knocking, and Nick couldn’t seem to get the door open fast enough.

Somehow Adam managed to look better every time he saw him. The porch light threaded his hair with gold and painted shadows under his cheekbones.

“You look nervous,” said Adam.

“I am nervous,” Nick breathed. But you’re here. You’re on my doorstep. You’re in my space, and I don’t want you to go.

Adam didn’t wait for an invitation. He moved across the threshold and pushed the door closed quietly behind him. “Are we still alone?”

“Yeah.”

Adam stepped forward and kissed him. Nothing hesitant, nothing unsure. Simply the soft pressure of his lips against Nick’s mouth. Then the first brush of tongue, lighting sparks in Nick’s body, sending his thoughts reeling. The room felt warmer, the air soft and welcoming, eager for the way his mood lightened in Adam’s presence.

Adam shifted closer, until Nick could feel the heat of his chest and the brush of his hips. Then closer, his hands finding Nick’s face and winding in his hair.

Nick made a low sound and slid his hands under Adam’s coat, finding the warm muscled span of his waist.

Adam drew back and smiled. His voice was soft in the space between them. “Keep going like that and we’ll never leave the foyer.”

“Is it wrong that I don’t care?”

Adam laughed. “I want to see where you live.”

“It’s very exciting. Here, give me your coat.” And your shirt, and your—

“It is exciting.” Adam shrugged out of his coat. “And I might not get another chance.”

Well, that was sobering. But Nick took his coat and stashed it in the front closet.

Adam followed him through the lower level without much comment, until they came full circle to the staircase.

“No pictures,” said Adam.

“What?”

“There aren’t any pictures anywhere. Of your family. Or—”

He hesitated, as if realizing he’d made a misstep. “Of your brothers.”

Nick shrugged, but his shoulders felt tense again. “We used to have some. They were destroyed.”

“Fire?”

Nick shook his head. “It’s—it’s a long story.”

A lie. It was a pretty short story, really. He didn’t want to relive it, but his brain was more than happy to supply the memories. While Nick and his brothers were at their parents’ funeral, Tyler and his best friend Seth had broken into the house. They’d destroyed every picture they could find.