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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
