Secret

CHAPTER 36

Nick leaned against his back porch railing, holding Adam’s hand, keeping him close. A few boxes of pizza and salad were open on the picnic table and candles were lit everywhere.

It had been a hastily thrown together celebration party.

One full-time scholarship for Adam.

One evening-school scholarship for Quinn.

It was late, and everyone was tired, so conversation was dying and couples were pairing off.

Adam leaned close, until Nick could feel his breath on his neck. “Your family has been nothing but kind to me.”

“I know. I love them for it.” And he did. But this was still new, and fresh, and he was worried that the instant he let go of Adam’s hand, it would all unravel. “Honestly, I don’t know if it’s more surreal that you’re on the deck, or that Tyler is.”

Tyler had kept himself at a distance, as if he felt as uncertain about being here in the open as Nick did.

But he treated Quinn with a gentleness that Nick hadn’t expected. So when Tyler met Nick’s eye and gave him a nod, Nick nodded back.

Again, surreal. And not nice, exactly, but . . . okay. Better.

Nick shifted closer to Adam, inhaling his scent, grateful for quiet company and a peaceful evening.

“Is everything okay with your brother?” Adam asked.

Nick nodded. “I think so.” He paused, then smiled. “He offered to make out with Hunter if it would prove that he’s okay with me being gay.”

“Hmm,” said Adam. “Yeah. I think I need to see proof.”

“Shut up.”

“Tell him it has to be shirtless. Wait, let me get my phone out—”

Nick shut him up with a kiss.

A good kiss. A slow kiss. A long one, because they were in the shadows—but really, he didn’t care who caught a glimpse.

But then someone did see them, because a wolf whistle split the night. Then another, and Nick broke away, blushing fiercely.

“Okay, okay,” he said.

“Not just okay,” Adam whispered, his lips close to Nick’s ear. “Great, good, fine.”

Nick turned his head to pick up where they’d left off. But then something brushed his senses, and the candles suddenly blazed hotter.

He straightened, moving to the middle of the porch with his brothers, their eyes searching the darkness for the threat.

They didn’t have to look far. Calla Dean came walking out of the woods, pink and blond hair glinting in the firelight.

“Hello, Merricks,” she called, smiling broadly. “I hear you’re starting a war.”

No one moved.

She stopped in the grass, looking up at the porch.

“Guess what,” she said, losing the smile. “I want in.”