Brigid Kemmerer

Secret


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      “If you don’t come with me, I’m going to tell him to stop pining, because you’re not interested.”

      “You are not going to tell him that.”

      “Yes. I am. In fact—” She pulled out her cell phone. “I’m going to tell him right now.”

      Her hands were flying across the keys. Nick was on his feet yanking it out of her hands before he even knew he was moving. She didn’t fight him.

      Then he looked down at what she’d typed. Not a message to Adam. A message to him.

      You deserve a break, too, Nick.

      He sighed. “I don’t know.”

      Her voice gentled. “I know you still like him.” She paused. “It’s not a date. It’s an hour in the studio.”

      An hour watching Adam dance. He’d almost come undone the first time. But eager butterflies were hanging streamers for a party in his stomach. “All right. I’ll come with you.”

      “Yay!” She clapped.

      “You seem overly enthusiastic. Like you said, it’s an hour in the studio. Nothing might happen.”

      “Oh, it’s not that.” She smiled sweetly. “Really, I needed a ride.”

      Nick grabbed her and flung her over his shoulder. “That’s it. Pool.”

      She laughed. “You’re excited. Come on. Admit it.”

      He set her on her feet, but didn’t let her go. Up close, he could look into the blue of her eyes. She was very pretty, with enough curves to draw attention. She whined about being fat all the time, but dance kept her body toned and muscled.

      After catching him with Adam, she’d offered to continue playing the role of his girlfriend. It let him keep his secret from his brothers, but it also kept her from going out and meeting a guy who would care about what she had to offer.

      This whole setup was so wrong. “I hate using you,” he said.

      “Do you want to have an epic breakup?”

      “You deserve to date a guy who likes you.”

      “So do you.”

      Nick clamped his mouth shut and turned back to the path, slapping the next stone into place.

      “We can stop if you want,” said Quinn. “I’ll go back to nightly screaming matches with my mother, you go back to screwing easy girls so you look like a total player.”

      “Quinn. I was not—”

      “Maybe you weren’t sleeping with them, but you were using them just the same.” At his fierce look, she gave him one right back. “They might not have known the truth about you, but it doesn’t make it any different.”

      “I wasn’t using them.”

      “Yes. You were.”

      Yes. He was. Nick looked at the rock in his hands, then shoved it into line with the others.

      “It’s not going to go away, Nick!” cried Quinn. “If you don’t want to pretend with me, that’s fine. But it’s not fair to pretend with anyone else, either.”

      She was right. It wasn’t fair. None of it was fair.

      “What are you thinking?” said Quinn. “That you’ll break up with me and find some new skank who’ll keep your cover more effectively?”

      “Stop it.”

      “Fine. Go ahead. I’ll go find my own ride.” She stood and stormed toward the road.

      Nick caught her before she could get too far. Quinn had a history of making poor decisions. Ending up unconscious on the beach with a few drunken bikers was only the most recent. She was lucky he’d found her before anything else could happen.

      “Stop,” he said. “Stop.”

      He expected to find her expression distraught, but instead she looked challenging. “Why are you stopping me?”

      “Because you’re my friend.”

      “You’re mine, too.” She reached up to give the brim of his hat a yank. “Have you ever thought about just . . . telling your brothers?”

      He sighed and looked away. He thought about it all the time. Then he’d remember the thousand-and-one locker room gay jokes he’d heard from his twin. He’d remember Gabriel’s swift and brutal judgment of anything new. Gabriel knew how to cut right to the quick, and this felt so fragile and untested that Nick was afraid to bare skin in the face of that blade.

      Then there was Michael, overworked and overwrought, who’d said last week that he couldn’t handle one more complication in their lives. Nick did the bookkeeping for their landscaping business—they could practically reach out and touch their bottom line.

      That left Chris, brooding and distant, who might be okay with it—or he might not.

      They couldn’t afford discord right now.

      “Things at home—they’re complicated . . .” he started. Then he caught her eyes. His things at home had nothing on hers. “I don’t want to rock the boat,” he finally said.

      “What about Hunter?” she said. “Are you guys still sharing a room?”

      “Yeah, until we figure out a new sleeping arrangement. And seriously, you think I should start with my roommate, who, gee, happens to be my twin brother’s best friend? You’re right, Quinn. That’s a great idea.” He left her and went back to the path. At least slinging flagstone gave him a way to work off frustration.

      Quinn came back to the bench and resumed stretching. “Is that weird for you? Sharing a room with a guy?”

      “I shared a room with Gabriel for the first twelve years of my life.”

      “That’s not what I mean, and you know it.”

      Nick rolled more sand flat. “No,” he said, his tone resigned. “It’s not weird. At least not for me.”

      “You think it would be for him?”

      Nick had no idea. He didn’t say anything.

      “Tell me,” said Quinn. “Does he have tattoos and piercings all over his body, or what? Though I can’t decide whether that would be hot or disgusting—”

      Nick threw a handful of sand at her.

      But really, he had no answer. He was so well practiced in the art of Do Not Look at Other Guys that he kept his head in a book anytime Hunter was even in the room.

      And Hunter totally wasn’t his type anyway.

      “I’ll stop pushing,” said Quinn.

      “Thank you.”

      “But you’re definitely coming tonight.”

      He sighed.

      “Oh, you can’t back out now. I already texted Adam that you’ll be there.”

      His head swung around. “You what?”

      “He’s looking forward to it. See?” She held up her phone. A smiley face.

      A smiley face? Nick had no idea what that meant. Was that casual happy? Excited happy? An obligatory response that didn’t mean anything? It wasn’t even a D smiley. It was one of the parenthesis ones.

      God, he was trying to puzzle out the hidden meaning of the punctuation in a frigging emoticon.

      “You look nervous,” said Quinn.

      He shrugged.

      She got down on her knees next to him in the grass. “Don’t be nervous,” she said quietly. “He really likes you, Nick.”