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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.
