Spark

CHAPTER 28

Gabriel couldn’t get the music loud enough. Maybe if he put a pillow over his head. His eyes were fixed on the white drywall of his bedroom ceiling, his iPod earbuds pressed into his ears so tightly that they were beginning to hurt.

He was trying to block out the sound of Layne’s father’s voice, which kept replaying in his head like it was on some kind of loop.

His door opened, and Michael filled the doorway.

Gabriel yanked the headphones out of his ears, but music still poured out against his comforter. “Ever hear of knocking?”

He wanted his voice to be sharp, but he couldn’t generate the usual anger.

He’s not worthless. And you’re out of line.

“I did knock,” said Michael. “Three times.”

Oh. Gabriel pushed PAUSE on the iPod and looked back at the ceiling. “Sorry.”

He was ready for the lecture about the lightning, about lying, but Michael just stood there, keys jingling in his hand. “I still need to go to Home Depot. Want to come?”

He didn’t want to. But the alternative was sitting alone in his bedroom, feeling lightning in the air. Regretting the afternoon.

So again, they headed out in the truck, Michael mostly quiet, the wipers snicking back and forth against the windshield.

Gabriel couldn’t take it. He looked over. “I’m sorry.”

Michael didn’t look away from the road. “Did you know?”

“Did I know what?”

“That she wasn’t allowed over?”

Gabriel looked back out the window and picked at the weather stripping along the glass. “Mostly. I drove her home last week and her father told me off.”

“He told you off?”

Michael sounded pissed, but Gabriel couldn’t tell if it was directed at him or Mr. Forrest. “Yeah. Said he was going to charge me with trespassing and statutory rape.”

“What an asshole.”

Gabriel smiled tentatively, as if Michael might start on him next. “Yeah. He is.” He hesitated. “Thanks. For what you said.”

Michael nodded. “Thanks for not setting his car on fire.”

Silence streamed through the truck again, but there wasn’t any strain to it this time. Gabriel glanced over again. “What did he mean, about the custody stuff? And about the company?”

Michael sighed. “He’s not a judge, is he?”

“No. A lawyer.”

“I should have figured. You don’t have to worry about the custody stuff. It comes up for review every spring. You know that. You and Nick will be eighteen anyway, so . . .” Michael shrugged.

“But Chris?”

“Chris will be fine.”

“But—”

“Seriously.” Michael looked away from the road now. “He’ll be fine. That’s the last thing you need to worry about.” He paused. “As long as you can stay out of trouble, I can scrape one more year out of the juvenile system.”

As long as you can stay out of trouble. He was talking about the fires. Gabriel swallowed.

“What about the stuff with the company?”

“Something else you don’t need to worry about.”

Gabriel was on the verge of peeling the weather stripping right out of the window. “Come on.”

“Really. He’s bluffing.”

But Gabriel kept remembering Michael’s comment in the kitchen earlier. We can’t afford for anything to happen to the truck.

“You know,” said Michael, his voice careful, “when you told me we were picking up a girl, she’s not quite what I was expecting.”

Layne. Gabriel wished he could have picked her up and carried her into the house, all the while telling her father to fuck off. “I don’t think it matters anymore.”

“Just saying.”

Gabriel snorted. “I’m surprised you’re not just saying I need to stay away from her.”

“Yeah, well”—Michael rolled his eyes—“I already tried that with Chris and Becca, and look where it got me.”

Gabriel skipped dinner. Things were all right with Michael—for now—but he didn’t feel like putting on the same show for Chris and Nick, especially since Quinn and Becca were here. He holed up in his room again, iPod blaring in his ears.

He rolled his lighter across his knuckles, striking flame in time with the beat of the song.

His cell phone was in his other hand. Silent.

Not that he wasn’t checking it every fifteen seconds.

Surrounded by people, and he still felt so alone.

Then his phone chimed. Gabriel was so startled that he dropped the lit lighter in the middle of his chest.

Out, he thought.

The fire went out.

Nice. His control was getting better.

He checked the phone. Hunter.

Four alarm fire at Tanyard Springs. U in?

Gabriel slid his fingers across the keys to respond, then froze.

As long as you can stay out of trouble . . .

But a four-alarm fire would be big. And Tanyard Springs was a townhome community. This could be more than one family.

He paused his iPod and slipped out of bed to crack the door. His brothers were in the kitchen, cleaning up and goofing off from the sound of it. The rain had long since stopped. He could sneak out and be gone before they noticed.

But things weren’t terrible right now. Spending the day with Michael had actually been nice, in a bizarre way. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d played ball with his older brother. Even the trip to Home Depot had been peaceful.

If he snuck out, it could unravel everything.

But a four-alarm fire. There would be a lot of firemen. It would be easy to stay hidden.

Then again, Michael would know. Hell, he’d probably check the news first thing tomorrow morning. And Michael seemed to be offering him some . . . trust.

Gabriel considered going downstairs, joining them. It might be awkward at first, but maybe it would be okay.

Then he caught Nick’s voice. “So how was your afternoon of babysitting?”

Gabriel started to ease the door closed, sure his twin was talking to Quinn or Becca—but Michael responded. “Fine. We ran to Home Depot to pick up supplies for that gazebo job tomorrow.”

Gabriel jerked back.

Babysitting. Babysitting.

Michael wasn’t being nice. He wasn’t being brotherly. He was sitting around, making sure Gabriel didn’t go out and start any fires.

No wonder he’d been in the kitchen this afternoon, working on paperwork. No wonder he’d practically dragged Gabriel to Home Depot. And what was he going to do, sit around all weekend?

Gabriel almost put his fist through the wall. Babysitting!

His phone chimed again.

You there?

Fury almost made it impossible to type. But he managed.

Yeah. I’m in.