Quinn didn’t want to think about Becca. Lately, any time thoughts of Becca entered her brain, a bunch of jealousy and resentment crowded in alongside. “Well, maybe if Becca had been honest all along, I’d already know her thoughts about Tyler.”

Nick looked incredulous. “Maybe if you’d talk to her, she could be! Tyler’s best friend was one of the guys who tried to rape Becca. Seth Ramsey. He and Drew McKay dragged her onto the soccer field at Homecoming. Remember that?”

Quinn flinched. She remembered Becca’s torn, rain-soaked dress, the way her best friend had shivered in the backseat on the drive home. Chris Merrick had witnessed the attack, and Seth and Drew had been expelled from school. “I remember. But I’m not going to hold Tyler responsible for something Seth and Drew did—”

“Jesus, Quinn, fine. Maybe not then. But he tried to kill her at Drew’s party a few weeks ago. She and Chris ran into the water, and Tyler tried to shoot them. With a gun.”

Quinn didn’t say anything to that. Her brain was roiling with two different emotions.

Fear. Tyler had a gun. She’d seen it. He’d played it off by saying he was protecting his property, but . . . he’d been shooting at Becca?

Then anger. Becca had never said anything about Tyler shooting at her that night.

She’d never said anything about any of this.

Becca acted like she wanted to kiss and make up, but what was the point? Quinn was so tired of all these secrets.

Nick kept going. “I can’t believe you thought he was nice. Do you just find the most destructive people you can and latch on to them?”

She flinched. The words hurt more than anything her mom had said. Anything her brother had done. Quinn had to squish her eyes closed to keep the tears from planning an escape route.

When she was sure her voice would be steady, she looked at him. “I don’t know, Nick. Do I?”

He jerked the wheel to turn into the parking lot of the dance studio, then flung the vehicle roughly into park.

He didn’t look at her.

She wasn’t going to wait around for him to make her feel worse, so she got out of the truck and slammed the door closed.

Then she pushed into the nearly empty studio and stomped across the wooden floor, throwing her bag on the ground beside where Adam was making notes on a clipboard.

He looked as good as Nick, despite the bare feet and cutoff sweatpants. He was all unruly hair and dark eyes and caramel skin. A maroon long-sleeved tee did little to hide his build.