“Sure.”

“And thanks for . . . whatever you did back at my house.”

Hunter shrugged. “I didn’t really do anything. I just had to block his focus.” He took the stone, twisting the twine between his fingers while they waited for the game to load.

It made Gabriel think of Becca, who used to wear Hunter’s rocks strung along her wrist. “You’re not screwing with my little brother, are you?”

Raised eyebrows. “With Chris?”

“What are you really doing with Becca?”

Hunter shrugged and looked back at the twine, letting the rock untwist itself. “Nothing. She asked for my help. I’m giving it.”

“This help wouldn’t be the naked kind, would it?”

A smirk. “No. Just talking.” Hunter lost the smile. “I’m not messing with Chris. Or Becca. I wouldn’t. After . . . you know.”

Gabriel nodded. Then the screen loaded, and they were slaughtering zombies again.

“You know,” said Hunter, not looking away from the apocalypse on the screen, “I could tie that rock into the coat.”

“For what?”

“For next time.”

Gabriel didn’t look at him, just took another swig of his soda, keeping his eyes on the screen so Hunter wouldn’t kick his ass at Xbox.

But he kept thinking about those words. Next time.

There couldn’t be a next time. This time had been all about sheer luck. Luck and power. So much power Gabriel could feel it sparking under his skin, even now.

He gave a short laugh. “What happened to ‘lying low’?”

Hunter shrugged. “We don’t have to tell anyone . . .” Gabriel hadn’t been planning on telling anyone, anyway. Accidentally lighting the woods on fire was one thing. Willfully walking into a burning building—Michael would definitely have a problem with that.

“I have my uncle’s old police radio,” Hunter said. “We could do this again. On purpose.”

Gabriel gave him a look. “You mean, instead of by accident?”

“I don’t believe in accidents.”

His tone caught Gabriel by surprise.

Hunter shrugged a little, keeping his eyes on the controller in his hands. “I just mean, sometimes things happen for a reason. Think about it.”

He’d said something similar when he’d been accusing Michael of killing his father and his uncle. Gabriel wondered if Hunter still thought that wasn’t an accident, that maybe there had been more to the car crash than bad weather and poor timing. He opened his mouth to ask.

But then the zombies attacked, and their focus was back on the screen.

Gabriel pulled into his driveway well after midnight. The house was dark.

Then again, he’d destroyed the porch lights.

He hadn’t wanted to come home, but Hunter’s grandfather had come downstairs and made some bleary-eyed comments about it being a school night, and maybe it was time for friends to go.

Michael would probably be sitting in the kitchen, waiting. He’d sent half a dozen texts asking where Gabriel had gone, whether he was all right. He hadn’t shut up until Gabriel texted back that he was at Hunter’s.