“No.” He was playing with the edge of her turtleneck now, running his finger along her neck in a way that made her wish she’d said to hell with the scars and had worn a tank top.

But then she caught his hand again. “Don’t you care?”

“Care?”

Anger had her shifting on the bench, ready to unleash the rage she should have poured into that idiot by the pool. “That I’m all deformed?”

“I think you’re beautiful,” he said. “I’ve wanted to kiss you since the day you fixed my test, when you stood up to me in the hallway.”

She brushed his hand away. “You have not.”

“Yes. I have. I didn’t even tell Nicky about you, and I tell him everything.” He paused, and his voice found an edge. “Almost everything.”

Layne studied his profile in the darkness. He’d told her this morning that he and his twin weren’t speaking. She wondered what had happened there.

But that edge in his voice warned her to tread carefully. If she asked, he might not tell her, and this tentative trust would be shot to hell. They’d be back at square one.

She didn’t want to turn back. Not now.

“I’ve never told anyone everything.” She took a deep breath. “I’ve never told anyone any of it.”

Everything felt fragile again. She stared at him in the darkness, wanting to take that final leap, unsure whether he’d catch her.

And then, just like when she was bolting blindly for the water, he did.

“I’ll keep your secrets,” he said softly.

She looked back at the water. “The fire was a retaliation against my father. He’s a good attorney, but he doesn’t win everything. Some guy went to jail, and his friends were mad. I don’t know all the details, because I was five, and my dad doesn’t like to talk about it. Because Simon is deaf, he can’t hear smoke detectors. There was fire everywhere—they’d thrown glass jars of gasoline into the house. When it all started, my mother went looking for Simon. She didn’t know my father had already gotten him out. And she was so busy searching his room that she didn’t even think to check mine. The firemen pulled me out, but it was too late. I’d climbed into my closet, and the wall burned through the back—”