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Quinn was safely asleep at Becca’s, with a stern warning to call him if she felt any need to go anywhere else.
And Adam . . .
“Hey. You’re up. Everything okay with Quinn?”
Nick jumped a mile. He was lucky he didn’t pee his pants. Gabriel was there in the doorway, wearing running shoes and a hoody.
“Yeah,” Nick said. “Long night.”
“Anything interesting happen?”
Ha.
For a heartbeat of time, Nick considered telling him everything. Then he shook his head. “Nah,” he said. “I’m going back to sleep for a few hours.”
“Sure you don’t want to go for a run?”
Maybe Gabriel sensed the energy in the room, because Nick was actually considering it. Being out in the crisp air, letting oxygen fill his lungs and charge him with power.
But then he thought of those jobs later this morning.
He thought of the secrets he was keeping from his twin.
He thought of that envelope on his desk, with the letter he didn’t want to open. Or that kiss, when he’d been swept into the maelstrom of emotion and touch and tongues and—
His phone buzzed on the nightstand, and Nick glanced at the lit-up display. His heart skipped a beat when he recognized Adam’s number.
Then he realized Gabriel was still waiting.
“Not today,” Nick said. “You go on without me.”
When his brother was gone, Nick unlocked the screen to read Adam’s message.
When you’re sure of what you want, I’ll be right here.
Find out where it all started! Read on for a sample of Storm, the first in The Elemental Series by Brigid Kemmerer.
eaned her up and put her back in Adam’s bed. Then he wrapped the quilt around her and lay down beside her.
Adam brought her Tylenol and a glass of water, then left them alone.
Quinn stared through the darkness at the ceiling. It wasn’t spinning now. Every breath seemed to clear her head.
Stupid tears were still leaking out of her eyes, and she angrily swiped them away.
“I’m sorry,” said Nick.
“So you’re g*y?”
He was silent for a moment, and his voice was careful. “I don’t know.”
“No offense,” she said, mocking his earlier tone, “but I’m pretty sure that’s the kind of thing you’d know by now.”
He rolled up on one shoulder to look down at her—but he didn’t say anything.
And then she recognized the uncertainty in his eyes, the mixture of worry and fear and panic and need. She struggled with acceptance every day—she’d never considered that someone like Nick Merrick would be struggling with the same thing. He’d seemed like such a rock, such a steady, put-together guy, and she’d latched on to him, hoping to find some security.
He was really just as screwed up as she was.
