Thank god no one was at the farm, though she didn’t have much time. If her horse made it back without her . . . well, there’d be hell to pay. They’d call her father.
Like he needed one more disappointment in his life.
Layne sat up on the trail, dusting off her breeches, assessing damages. Nothing hurt too badly. She looked back to see what could have frightened the animal though sometimes it didn’t take much.
But there was someone sitting in the middle of the trail. Sitting up, dusting himself off, doing the same things she was doing.
Holy crap, she’d run into a man.
She’d left her glasses on her tack trunk next to her phone, so she wasn’t able to make out features, but the filtered sunlight let her identify shorts, a sweatshirt. Athletic shoes.
For a second, she considered the implications of being alone in the woods with a man, but she’d just plowed into him with her horse, and a little courtesy probably wasn’t out of line.
Layne stood up and started walking toward him. Her knees weren’t a big fan of this activity, and her head wasn’t feeling much better. She unsnapped her helmet and clipped the strap through a belt loop, shaking her hair free so it wouldn’t be matted with sweat across her forehead.
“You all right?” she called. “God, I’m sorry. I wasn’t paying attention ” She broke off the apology, hearing her father’s voice in her head. If you’re ever in an accident, don’t apologize.
It immediately implies guilt. . . .
But how could she not apologize?
He was staring at her now, and she was relieved to see that he wasn’t a man man, but a teenager, with dark hair and features that were slowly coming into focus as she got closer.
Features that shifted into something like surprise. “Layne?”
She stopped short on the path. “Gabriel?” Then she hesitated. “Or Nick? I’m sorry ”
“It’s me.” His voice was rough. “Gabriel.”
And just then, all her rationalizing went straight out the window. He looked . . . overwrought. Rumpled sweatshirt, disheveled hair. That shadow across his jaw had turned into true stubble overnight.
Regret twisted her gut. She should have called. He’d apologized and left his number, and then she’d as good as smacked him in the face.
No, she’d trampled him with her horse.
Get over yourself, Layne. He’s probably hungover.
She straightened, folding her arms. “Are you hurt?”
He must have heard her voice turn flat, because his expression hardened. “I’m all right. You?”
“I’m great.”
And then he was standing, looming over her, an abrupt shift from vulnerable and wounded to vaguely threatening. “What are you doing out here?”
She always had to battle with her emotions when he looked like that. One part of her wanted to back away to get a little more air. The other part wanted to step into him, just to see what it felt like to share his warmth.
“Riding,” she said. “What are you doing out here?”
“Running,” he said, like it should have been obvious and really, it kind of was. His eyes flicked down her form, and she wished riding breeches weren’t quite so formfitting. “I guess I should be glad you weren’t driving a car.”
“Shut up.” Then she realized what he’d said. “Wait. You live around here?”
He lifted one shoulder and looked around though they were surrounded by trees, so she had no idea what he was looking for. “Nah. I’ve been running for a while.” He pulled an iPod out of the pocket of his hoodie and glanced at it. “Four miles, maybe.”
Layne blinked. “You ran . . . four . . . miles? ”
“Yeah. I didn’t realize my morning run could get f**ked up, too, but maybe that’s just my week.”
His voice was sharp enough for her to feel an edge against her skin. But somehow it didn’t seem directed at her. He’d reacted the way an animal would lash out if it was in pain. Layne frowned, afraid to dig at an open wound but kind of afraid not to.
She opened her mouth to ask, but her words died at his expression. Eyes hard, jaw set. His hands were in his pockets, but it didn’t make him look relaxed. It made him look like he was trying not to hit something.
Layne let the air out of her lungs. She smoothed her jacket against her hips. “I need to walk back . . . catch my horse ”
“How far?”
“What?” Her eyebrows went up. “Oh, he probably ran back to the barn. Half a mile, I guess. The trail’s a loop. I just don’t want someone to find him and call my dad. If they knew I was out here alone . . .”
Her voice trailed off again. Gabriel was simply looking at her with that inscrutable expression, so Layne turned and started walking, calling over her shoulder. “Hey, I’m really sorry about running into you. I guess I’ll see you around school.”
He didn’t say anything. Sneakers ground against dirt behind her, and she knew he was taking off, running for home or wher-ever.
Then he drew up beside her, falling into step.
Her breath caught. “What are you doing?”
“You think I’m going to leave you alone in the middle of the woods? What the hell kind of guy do you think I am?”
She glanced up at him. A streak of dirt ran across his face, and it took everything she had not to reach up and rub it off.
She wondered what his cheek would feel like.
She swallowed. “I have no idea.”
Gabriel snorted. “I don’t think that’s true.”
She hunched her shoulders, feeling the muscles pull. Having a conversation with him was like navigating a minefield. She bit the inside of her lip and concentrated on keeping her mouth shut.
But after a while, he said, “I should have heard you.”
His voice was cautious. She didn’t look at him, worried this was just another mine waiting to explode.
“I had the music too loud,” he said. “I don’t usually run like that it’s a good way to get hit by a car. I didn’t even look when I came out onto the main trail. I just . . .” He hesitated.
Layne held her breath. Her dad once told her the best way to get the truth out of a witness was to be patient enough to wait for them to tell you. Everyone likes to talk, he’d said. The trick is letting them talk long enough.
Gabriel glanced over, making a frustrated noise. “You ever just have to do something to get all the thoughts out of your head?”
Layne nodded. That, she understood. “So you ran four miles?”
He shrugged and stared out at the trees around them. “I had to get out of the house.”
The words rolled around in her head for a moment, and she could practically see a construction worker throwing a flag in her path. Proceed with caution.
She went with something safe. “I’m surprised you’re not saving all that energy for tryouts. They’re after school, right?”
He shook his head. “Not for me. You were right. Anderson caught on.”
Layne almost stumbled on the trail. “What do you mean, she caught on? ” God, if her dad knew she’d fixed some kid’s test especially the future felon’s he’d have her off to an all-girl’s boarding school before she could explain herself.
Yeah, and what explanation would you give? Sorry, Dad. He was hot.
“Not you.” Gabriel’s voice was flat. “She just figured out I was cheating.”
“So you’re off the team? Are you suspended? Are you ”
“A week and a half. She gave me a week and a half to hand in perfect homework and take a unit test myself. Then I can try out for the team, if I can pass.”
She stared at him. “But . . . that’s great! You can just do the work, and ”
“It’s not great.” His words could cut ice again. “I can’t even do the goddamn homework; I’m not going to pass the test.”
“But I can still help you ”
He put out a hand to stop her. “Yeah? Why?”
Breath fought its way into her lungs. “Because because ”
His eyes were fierce. “What, you want to put some do-gooder activity on your transcript? Helped the resident f**kup pass a math test? Why do you even give a shit, Layne?”
She jerked back. His chest was rising and falling quickly, and she had a suspicion that if she put a hand against the front of his sweatshirt, she’d find his heart beating every bit as rapidly as hers. Sunlight was pouring through the trees now, and sweat crept along her neck.
Abruptly, he turned away, blowing out a long breath and running his hands back through his hair. “I’m sorry. This isn’t about you.”
Layne wanted to put a hand on his shoulder, but she wasn’t sure how he’d take it. What had he said? I had to get out of the house.
She kept her voice careful. “So your parents are pissed?”
“No.” His hands dropped, falling into his pockets again. He had to have a cell phone or something there; she could see him fiddling with something. He started walking again, saying nothing, so she hustled to catch up.
“My parents died when I was twelve,” he said.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“My older brother is twenty-three, so he has custody.”
She had no idea what to say.
He glanced her way. “It’s been five years,” he said flatly. “I’m over it.”
She didn’t believe that for a minute. “So . . . your older brother . . . is he pissed?”
“He would be, if he knew. We had a big fight last night about . . . other stuff.”
She had arguments with Simon, but she imagined Gabriel wasn’t one to fight with words and tears and threats to tell a parent. “No sense adding fuel to the fire, huh?”
“Something like that.”
“Are you going to get Nick to help you?”
Gabriel hesitated. “I don’t think that’s going to happen.” Another pause. “Nick and I aren’t speaking.”
Wow, pain hid behind those words. She only had bits and pieces of this story, like reading the first sentence of every chap-ter in a book. Something powerful had happened she just couldn’t piece it together.
He’d been banned from the team, from a sport she knew he loved God, even Simon practically worshipped Gabriel’s athletic ability. He was fighting with his twin brother, and they had to be close, the way they seamlessly switched places in front of teachers and other students.
And then he’d searched for her in the library. He’d wanted to talk to her in private. He’d apologized, and she’d known how much it cost him to do it. He’d seen right through her defenses, leaving that perfectly charming sentence in her notebook.
No, not charming. Honest.
Desperate?
It hadn’t been a game. He’d wanted her to call.
Gabriel ran a hand through his hair again. “Sorry,” he said, his blue eyes dark and full of emotion. “I’ll shut up. It’s been a shitty week.”
Layne took a deep breath.
Then she stepped forward to throw her arms around his neck and hug him.
CHAPTER 19
Gabriel stiffened when Layne’s arms went around his neck.
With the way his life was going, he wouldn’t have been surprised to find her goal was to choke him.
But then she was just holding him, her slender arms full of strength, their height difference putting her head against his shoulder.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been held like this.
Yes, he could. That mother, after the fire. But hers had been a motion of gratitude and desperation. It hadn’t been about him.
He should be pushing Layne away. He could slice right through her offer of comfort and make her as miserable as he’d been last night. He’d made himself vulnerable once; he wouldn’t make that mistake again.