Gabriel had spent two days barely saying a word to his twin, and it felt like water torture. He couldn’t imagine weeks passing. Months.

When they were little, they’d shared a room, a bed on each wall. For years, Gabriel had thought a twin bed meant only twins slept in them. If they dressed in the same pajamas—which had been almost every night—Mom would say they looked like a pair of bookends. Half the time, Gabriel would wake up in the morning to find Nick had climbed into bed with him sometime in the night.

Nick had grown out of that sometime in elementary school.

Only to start back up again when their parents died.

He didn’t do that anymore, of course. But now he was just one room down the hall.

Not down the road.

Or in another state.

Gabriel glared at him. His voice was tight, and probably sounded angry. “Why didn’t you say something?”

More wind streaked through the room, a good ten degrees colder than the last gust. “Yeah? When should I have said something? When you were insulting Quinn? Or maybe when you tried to burn the house down—”

“I did not try to burn the house down.” Gabriel was off the bed now, his hands curled into fists. Electricity pulsed in the walls, ready to flare.

The air turned cold enough to bite bare skin, thin and hard to breathe. “That’s right,” said Nick. “You don’t have to try, do you? You’re pretty good at destroying things all by your—”

“Enough.”

Gabriel jumped. Michael stood in the doorway, a hand braced on each side of the frame. His breath fogged in the air.

“Nick”—he sighed—“would you give us a minute?”

Nick disentangled himself from the chair, but he did it slowly, and the room didn’t get any warmer until he’d pushed past Michael to step into the hallway.

He didn’t glance back once. Not like Gabriel was looking.

Michael remained in the doorway. Gabriel didn’t want to look at him, either.

“You’re home,” said Michael.

“Yeah.” Gabriel picked at a thread on the cuff of his jeans. “Not out destroying any lives tonight.”

“Very funny.”

“How was your date?”

“It wasn’t a date.” Michael paused. “I was trying to make sure they’re not still investigating you.”

For some reason, that was infuriating. “So you’re just stringing her along to find out what she knows? Christ, Michael, that’s kind of a dickhead move—”

“You want to tell me what’s really going on?”

“There’s nothing going on.” At least this was a brother he could fight with. Gabriel stood. Got close. “I’m home. Go spend your worry on someone else.”

Michael didn’t move.

Gabriel shoved him. “Go.”

He watched Michael draw himself up, ready to hit back. But then his brother just shifted toward the door. “Thanks.”