But then he realized he might—just might—be able to work this out.

He dropped into the chair across from his brother. “Would you let me borrow the truck?”

Michael laughed, but not like it was really funny. “The last time you ‘borrowed’ the truck, I got a call from the cops at three in the morning.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Gabriel paused. “Please.”

Michael was already looking back at the laptop. “I need the truck this afternoon. I was going to run to Home Depot.”

God, like he couldn’t do that later. “Come on, Michael. Please.”

Now his brother really looked at him. Gabriel never asked him for anything. Ever.

“Where do you need to go?”

Gabriel warred with telling the truth—but Michael was more likely to say yes if he knew it was for school. “I’m picking up someone from my math class. We’re coming back here to study.”

“Try again.”

Gabriel sighed. “Really.” At Michael’s raised eyebrows, he emphasized, “Really. Why would I make that up?”

Michael studied him for an eternal minute. Then he closed the laptop. “Okay.”

Gabriel almost fell out of his chair. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.” Michael stood. “Let’s go.”

Wait a minute. “You’re not—”

“Driving? Yeah, I am. We’ll pick up this someone, I’ll bring you back here, and then I’ll go to Home Depot.”

This was some kind of punishment. Or retaliation. Had to be. “Look, if you’re just going to grill me about the fires—”

“No grilling. We can’t afford for something to happen to the truck.” Michael was already heading for the garage. “This is the best you’re going to get. Take it or leave it.”

Gabriel couldn’t believe he had to get a ride from his brother. Christ, this was humiliating. They’d always had a car. He’d never needed to beg a ride to pick a girl up.

Especially to study.

He felt about thirteen. Maybe Michael would offer to take them for ice cream, after.

“Hey,” he said when they were halfway there. “I need you to do me a favor.”

“Another one?”

“Please don’t be mean to this girl.”

“Aha.” Michael glanced over. “I knew this had to be a girl.”

“Look . . . just . . . she’s not like that, okay?”

“So not only do I have to play chauffeur, but I have to be nice, too?” Michael’s voice was full of sarcasm, but it lacked the usual edge.

Gabriel didn’t trust this new niceness—but if he snapped at Michael, his brother might abort the whole operation. “Maybe it would be best if you just didn’t talk to her at all.”

Michael fell silent for a while, and trees raced by. Finally, he said, “How bad is it?”

“How bad is what?”

“Math.”

“It’s fine,” Gabriel lied. “I just don’t want to fall behind.”