Nick nodded.

Hunter eased onto the step beside him. “That—that sucked.”

Nick stared at his coffee. Was Hunter looking for an apology? Or offering one? Tension crawled across his shoulders and dug in its claws.

“I’m really sorry,” Hunter said quietly. He was staring at his own mug. “I am really, really—”

“It’s not your fault.” He should have closed the door. Or hung a sign.

Or really, he should have turned Adam down to begin with.

Hunter rubbed at the back of his neck. “I didn’t think anyone was home, but then I came in and it was like ninety degrees in here. Your light was off, so I thought maybe you were having a nightmare, especially when . . .” Hunter winced. “Um, when you cried out—”

He broke off, and Nick could feel his embarrassment.

But that was it. Just embarrassment. None of those other things.

Nick cut a glance to the side. He had to clear his throat. “I left the door open so I could hear if someone came home.”

“I let Casper run for a while. I came in the back door.”

And, really, Nick had been so wrapped up in Adam that a marching band could have come through the front door and he wouldn’t have noticed.

The suspense was killing him. His voice was rough. “What did you tell my brothers?”

“Are you crazy? Nothing.” Hunter hesitated, and his voice turned careful. “They don’t know?”

Nick shook his head.

Hunter let out a sigh. “That’s kind of a relief. I thought maybe I was the only one who wasn’t in on the secret.” Another pause, and his voice held the slightest bit of fascination. “Didn’t you sneak Quinn into your bed, like, two nights ago?”

Nick twisted the mug in his hands. He still hadn’t taken a sip. “I’m not sleeping with Quinn. She needed a place to get away from her family.”

“So your room is kind of like a haven for the lost and misdirected.”

Nick looked at him. Hunter’s voice was vaguely teasing. He had no idea how to read this. He’d been so ready for an attack that a simple conversation felt like a trap.

“Quinn knows. About me. She’s a friend.”

“Does anyone else know?”

Nick thought about Chris, and his promise to keep a secret. “I don’t think so.”

“Who’s the guy? Does he go to our school?”

“Adam.” Nick swallowed. “No, he’s in college. He’s a dancer. A friend of Quinn’s.”

“How long has this been going on?”

“Not long.” He paused. “A few weeks. I met him that week school was closed.” He felt like they were side-stepping around something important, and it was killing him. “Look, if you want to change where you sleep, I get it. I can sleep on the couch, or—”