Hunter stepped across the narrow hallway and pushed on the door to the girls’ locker room, opening it a few inches. The lights were off, revealing a well of shadowed tile and the edge of a trash can, but he yelled through the gap. “Anyone in here?”

Silence.

Hunter hit the light switch. Pink tile came to life, leading to pink steel lockers.

Empty—but Hunter strode forward anyway, rounding the corner into the girls’ shower area. That’s where they found Simon, shivering behind one of the pink shower curtains, sporting a black eye and a split lip.

And absolutely no clothes.

CHAPTER 34

CHAPTER 34

Layne had never been a clock-watcher in class. Now it seemed every class took sixteen hours, the minutes ticking by until she could see Gabriel.

She still couldn’t sort her feelings about him. Anger, at what had happened? She had no idea whether that was his fault. Curiosity? Absolutely. Intrigue, for certain.

Fury. Fear.

Desire. Longing.

All of it.

This morning had been torture. She’d woken before sunrise, as usual. Her hands had gone immediately to her side, seeking the familiar foreign texture, sure she’d dreamed that part.

Nope. The scars were still gone.

How?

She couldn’t go to the farm—the surviving horses had already been trailered to another facility ten miles away for the time being. She couldn’t call Gabriel, not with her father still monitoring her cell phone every minute. He was already on edge enough from Simon’s black eye.

It had taken every ounce of Layne’s restraint to keep her mouth shut—instead of reminding her father that she’d suggested they go to the game. That if they’d been there, Simon could have just walked out with them, instead of relying on some other kid to drop him at home after god-knew-what happened. Simon wouldn’t have had a black eye—and he wouldn’t have had a reason to lock himself in his room without explaining it.

But now, finally, the bell was ringing, signaling the end of second period.

Layne bolted for math class.

And Gabriel’s seat, of course, was empty.

She stood there in the doorway, dismayed. Had he been hurt yesterday, and she just didn’t know about it?

Or maybe this was intentional. Maybe he’d ditched class.

Maybe he didn’t want to see her.

Her hands curled into fists. Disappointment felt just as crushing as the fury that had her pressing fingernails into her palms. As usual, she wanted to hit him and hug him at the same time.

If only he’d show up.

“Layne.”

She spun around, hands still clenched, ready to swing.

Gabriel caught her wrists, his fingers gentle through the sleeves of her turtleneck.

But then he just held her there. He didn’t push her away—or pull her closer. His voice was rough, low, just for her. “Don’t hit me.”