He nodded. But he didn’t write anything down.

“Look,” she said, “I can’t help you if you won’t even—”

“Jesus.” His eyes flared with anger. “I know.”

Layne almost flinched—then reminded herself that his anger had nothing to do with her. “Truth,” she said softly. “What’s wrong?”

His expression was locked down, and she had a strong feeling he wasn’t going to answer. Every time he did this, it made her feel vulnerable. More so now that her secrets were all out on the table—and his weren’t.

“I need to pass.” His voice was low, rough.

“You will,” she said. “You’ll pass the test, get back on the team—”

“I don’t give a crap about the team.” He hesitated. “I mean, I do, but . . .”

She waited.

He kept his eyes on the book. “Nick told me last night that he wants to go to college. If I can’t pass math, I can’t even graduate from high school.”

She studied him. “Do you want to go to college with your brother?”

“No—yes—I don’t—” His pencil snapped. “Goddamn it.” He dropped the pieces in the spine of the book.

Again, Layne waited.

Gabriel looked up, meeting her eyes. “I never even thought about college. The only reason I bother getting halfway decent grades is so I can play sports. I mean, I just figured we’d keep helping Mike with the business.”

“What do you want to do?”

He snorted. “I doubt there’s money for Nick to go to college, so for me to go with him . . . I mean, he’ll probably get scholarships, but—”

“No. What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know.” He was looking back at the math book again. “I never really thought I had a choice.”

Layne bit at her lip. She didn’t know the twins’ relationship well enough to judge them, and talking to Gabriel always felt like walking a tightrope. “Obviously Nick thinks he has one.”

That brought his eyes back up to hers. “He deserves a choice.”

“Why, because he’s a good student?”

Gabriel scowled. “He’s good, period.”

It made her think of her mother, volunteering for every charity under the sun—as long as she got to plan a party for it. Most people probably thought she was good, too, despite the fact that Layne’s father had worked himself to the bone to afford the lifestyle her mother demanded.

And then she’d left, like it wasn’t good enough.

No, because Layne and Simon weren’t good enough.

There were different levels of good, Layne thought. Had to be.

She tapped the math book with her pencil. “You deserve a choice, too.”

Gabriel took a deep breath and blew it out. He picked up the broken half of his pencil, the one with a writing end. “Can I choose to not do this?”