Alone.

A hand closed on his arm. “Gabriel. Gabriel.”

Nick. Gabriel turned his head and stared at his twin, wide-eyed and kneeling in the leaves like he’d been there for a while. His mirror image in a clean sweatshirt and cutoff sweatpants. No tears. No soot. No blood. Perfect.

Wind swirled through the trees to rustle the leaves. “What happened?”

Nick’s expression was wary, as if he expected Gabriel to hit him, or snap. Or worse.

“I did it again,” Gabriel said, and his voice sounded thick. He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes and struggled to breathe. “I did it again, Nicky.”

“What happened?” Nick’s voice was softer now.

Gabriel shook his head. “Just go.” His voice broke and he didn’t care. Air swirled through the space between them, and the leaves rustled as Nick shifted to stand.

Good.

But then Nick had a hold of his sleeve, of his arm, and he was pulling. Hard. “Get up. Come on.”

Gabriel fought his grip as anger pierced through the despair. “Leave me alone.”

“Get up.” Nick was still dragging at his arm. The air dropped ten degrees. “Move.”

“Let me go.”

“Move.”

“Goddamn it, Nick!” Gabriel wrenched his arm free. “I’m not going in the house!”

Another ten degrees. “Why not?”

“Because I don’t want to hurt anyone else.”

Nick stared at him for a moment. Gabriel tried not to shiver.

Then Nick clocked him on the side of the head. “I don’t care. Move.”

When Gabriel didn’t, Nick kicked him. First in the leg, then in the side. Right where that horse had gotten him with a hoof.

Gabriel swore and pushed to his feet, holding his side. “Stop.”

“You stop.” Nick got in his face. The air was colder now, thin and hard to breathe. “Stop being such an ass and come in the house.”

Gabriel sucked in a breath to fight—but the air was frigid and snapped at his lungs. His ribs hurt. His hand ached. He felt like he’d been fighting for so long.

“I can’t do this anymore,” he said, so softly that he barely heard his own voice.

But the wind would carry the words to Nick, whose expression didn’t soften. “Then don’t. Come on.”

And this time when he yanked at Gabriel’s arm, he followed.

The house was quieter than the woods had been, filled with the hush of sleep and early morning. Still, the coffeepot was brewing when they came through the back door, though no one was in the kitchen. Chris’s and Michael’s doors were closed. Nick practically shoved Gabriel into the upstairs bathroom.

“Sit,” he said, his tone clipped. He jerked at the faucet, turning the water on cold.