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But then he just sighed and rolled back to the ground to lie beside her. “I’m not even sure where to start. He brought Quinn home for dinner, and I just . . . I picked a fight. I’m not even sure why.”
“Did you like her?”
“No, no, nothing like that. But we hardly ever fight, and this one it got out of control. I almost . . . it could have been bad.
Mike and Chris broke it up. Hunter, too.”
There was more a lot more. She could hear it behind the words.
“What else?” she said.
He was staring at the sky now, almost directly into the sun. It had to be hurting his eyes, but he wasn’t even squinting. “It’s complicated.”
“Try me.”
He scowled, and she thought he wasn’t going to say anything else. But then he turned his head to look at her. “I wish I could undo it, but . . . I can’t. They don’t understand. Nick especially.
I mean, he’s the perfect one. Never in trouble, covering my ass when I screw up which is all the damn time.” He turned back to the sun. “You know, he got hurt right after homecoming? My fault. I couldn’t even help him. He doesn’t blame me, but I just . . .
I just . . .”
“You blame yourself.”
“Yeah.”
“And you’re mad at him for not blaming you.”
Now she had his attention. “Yeah. How do you know that?”
Layne thought of her mother, of how much she hated the woman for abandoning her family but how much she blamed herself for not being a more perfect daughter. “Trust me. I can play the blame game all day.”
Gabriel didn’t say anything. The silence suddenly had a weight to it.
She understood only a fraction of what he was talking about, but details could come later. This was the first time he’d come close to saying anything at all, and she didn’t want him to stop.
“Have you tried to talk to Nick?” she said.
Gabriel fidgeted. “Yes. No. It’s complicated.” He rolled up on one arm again, until the line of his body was almost against hers. She could feel his warmth through the material of her jacket. She wanted to hold her breath, as if one small movement would spook him and send him bolting down the path again.
“I just snapped, I guess,” he said. “Sometimes I wish I’d never started that fight, but then it feels like some bizarre turning point.” He was closer now, his voice gaining momentum.
“You know how you can trace back moments to one action that didn’t feel important at the time? But then later, you go back and think about it, and you realize one little decision turned your whole life upside down. If I hadn’t been so angry, we wouldn’t have fought. If we hadn’t fought, I never would have driven out of there the way I did. If I hadn’t driven out of there, I wouldn’t have ” He faltered.
Layne stared up at him. His eyes were wide, his breathing a little quick.
“Tell me,” she said. “Just tell me.”
He flinched and looked away. “It was the night I drove you home,” he said, his voice rough. “I was furious. I wasn’t thinking straight. It wasn’t . . . I can’t . . .” He swallowed.
“Please,” she said.
“I don’t want you to hate me.”
Hate him? What could it be? He wouldn’t have what?
He’d been angry. Driving. Layne knew too much from her father’s profession, and her imagination was getting carried away again. “Did you hurt someone?” she whispered.
“No.” He made a choked sound. “No. Just the opposite.”
