“This says Dad checked this out a month after Danny died.”
My pulse starts to race, needing answers, but afraid of what I’ll find. I open the folder, finding what looks like a CD case inside with a bunch of numbers, followed by a date.
“That’s the day he died.”
I nod, swallowing hard, and open the case. Suddenly, the power kicks back on, light flooding in from the hall. Holden walks over to flip the light switch, and I take the chair in front of my dad’s desk, powering his computer on. His dinosaur of a computer takes what seems like an eternity to boot, each second making my anxiety skyrocket, and I look down at the police report that was in the same folder, but damn near everything has been redacted. Black boxes litter the page, making it impossible to make sense of it.
“You ready?” I ask, pressing the eject button, making the tray slide out. I don’t know what we’re about to find out, but I know it’s going to change everything.
Instead of answering, he sticks the disc into the tray, then pushes it shut.
“Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?”
“I need an ambulance to the falls!”
My heart slams against my ribs when I hear the voice come through the speaker.
“What’s the emergency?” the operator repeats.
“He’s not fucking breathing!”
My stomach drops and I clench my jaw so hard I’m surprised my teeth don’t crack under the pressure.
“Who is he?”
“Danny—uh, Daniel Ames.”
My eyes squeeze shut hearing his name.
There’s commotion in the background as he yells in response to something that I can’t make over the sound of the water. An image of Danny facedown on the shore pops into my mind, unbidden, and I ball my hands into fists, my throat getting tight.
“You said he’s not breathing?”
“Just fucking send someone.”
“An ambulance is already on the way, sir. Who am I speaking to?”
The caller doesn’t answer. The line cuts off, and the recording ends.
But we both know who it was.
Neither one of us speaks for a beat, but then Holden rips the monitor off the desk, launching it onto the floor.
“Why the fuck would Dad have this? Why wouldn’t he tell us?” Holden’s eyes are glassy as he looks at me, his chest heaving.
“The better question is why is he protecting him?”
Holden steps over the broken parts of the computer, making his way to the shelves that line the wall, half of it filled with books, the other half bottles of liquor. He cracks open a bottle of scotch, taking a long pull as he walks back over to me. He takes the chair opposite me, reaching over the desk to hand me the bottle. Not my first choice, but right now I don’t give a fuck. I take it from him, welcoming the burn as it slides down my throat.
We don’t talk. We sit in silence, drinking, thinking, sinking. By the time the sun comes up, the bottle is gone, and Holden’s passed out in the chair. I stagger back to my room, using the wall for support. I pause in the doorway, leaning my weight into the frame as I look at Shayne. Her blonde hair is spread out across my black pillowcase, her pink lips slightly parted, long eyelashes hitting the tops of her cheeks. My sheet is gathered at her hip, exposing the dip in her waist and her arms cover her chest, one hand underneath her cheek. She looks so fucking peaceful when she sleeps. Angelic almost.
And now I have to figure out how to tell her that her brother killed mine.
Shayne
I wake up alone. The sheets are cold, telling me I’ve been alone for a while now. I sit up, stretching my arms above my head. Last night after Holden left, I climbed on top of Thayer and rode him long and slow as he lay there with his hands behind his head, watching me move. My feelings for him only get stronger each day we spend together, and if I’m being honest, it scares the shit out of me. But I’m in too deep to walk away now.
I snag Thayer’s black shirt that I wore last night, pulling it on over my head. Padding over to my gym bag that I stuffed with clothes from my house, I sift through it to find a pair of clean underwear and a pair of Soffe shorts. After I’m dressed, I grab my phone, walking out into the hall. The house seems quiet. Too quiet. Holden must be still asleep. I use the bathroom and brush my teeth before I head downstairs in search of Thayer.
“Thayer?” I call out at the bottom of the stairs.
No response.
Dread creeps into me slowly. I can’t explain why. But it’s an overwhelming feeling that something isn’t right.
I walk into the kitchen, but he’s not there either. I check every room I can think of—the poolroom, the living room, the downstairs bathroom. I open the front door, but his car’s parked in front of the fountain. I look down at my phone, scrolling through my call log and click on his name, bringing it to my ear.
No answer.
I give up, heading back upstairs to gather some of my stuff. If he’s gone, I’m not just going to wait around for him. When I get to the top of the stairs, a sound coming from the other end of the hall has me pausing. It’s a repetitive noise. A thump…thump…thump…every few seconds.
Danny’s room.
I make my way to his door, hesitating with my hand hovering over the door handle. I haven’t stepped foot in here since before. It feels like it’s off limits. Wrong. But if Thayer’s in there…
Taking a deep breath, I twist the handle, pushing the door open. I find the source of the noise. Thayer’s standing in the middle of Danny’s room, surrounded by trophies and ribbons and plaques, bouncing a basketball.
“Thayer?”
His vacant, bloodshot eyes lift to mine and the look in them sends a chill up my spine.
“Are you okay?” I take a step toward him, but his voice stops me in my tracks.
“Get out.” His voice is cold. Emotionless.
“What happened?” I try again.
“Get. Out.”
Tears prick the backs of my eyes, threatening to spill over. “You’re doing it again, aren’t you?” I shake my head. “You’re pushing me away,” I accuse. He stares at me, not speaking, and my sadness gives way to anger. “How can you do this to me again when you know how much it hurt? When you know how hard it was for me to trust you again? Are you that selfish?” My voice rises in pitch.
I see the muscle in his jaw flutter beneath his skin, but he still doesn’t speak.
“If you let me walk out that door, Thayer, I promise you I won’t be coming back,” I manage to get the words out without my voice cracking. Tears stream down my face and I hate that they do. I hate that he’s seeing me break. Thayer’s eyes flash with something, his eyebrows tugging together, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he turns away from me.
“I guess I have my answer.” I swallow past the lump in my throat, feeling my temper flare. How can he be so cavalier when my heart feels like it’s being smashed into a thousand pieces? “You’re an asshole. I don’t know who’s worse. The self-serving boy who’s afraid of feelings, or the idiot who fell for it. Again.”
I shouldn’t be surprised. Deep down, I always knew it was going to come to this. We ignored harsh truths for temporary bliss. But it doesn’t make it hurt any less. I storm down the hall and over to his room, holding on to the anger that courses through me, knowing it’s only a matter of time before it turns into heartbreak. I haphazardly throw all my shit into my bag. Unzipping the front pocket, I pull out the makeshift necklace Thayer made with the barn key, squeezing it in my palm before I toss it onto his bed.
It’s time to let him go.
Head down, I jog down the stairs, bag over my shoulder. Somehow, my feet get tangled up in the strap to my bag in my haste to get out of here, but two strong hands shoot out to catch me before I fall, steadying me. I right myself, pulling away to find Holden standing in front of me with something that looks a lot like pity in his eyes.
Without a word, I move around him, slip my shoes on my feet, and walk out of Whitt
emore. For good.
To my credit, I managed to make it all the way home before I broke. I turned my phone off and left it downstairs, then crawled into bed where I’ve been ever since, with the exception of using the bathroom a couple times. A day ago, I would’ve been scared to be here alone at night. Funny how heartache overrides fear.
I lie in bed, my cheek against my tear-soaked pillow, wondering how Thayer was able to do a complete one-eighty in such a short period of time. And why? Because Holden found out about us? But he seemed fine afterward. He sure didn’t seem to have a problem with it when he was buried inside me five minutes later. It had to be something else. He was in Danny’s room when I found him, and my gut tells me what I’ve been ignoring all along. No matter how much he might want me, his resentment is stronger.
“Shayne?” Grey’s voice calls out, startling me out of my thoughts. What the hell? I sit up in my bed, quickly drying my face with the bottom of my shirt, then press the heels of my hands against my puffy eyes, taking a deep breath. I drop my hands just as my door swings open, revealing Grey with his brown hair curling over the edges of his backwards Red Sox hat.
“What’s wrong?” he says, immediately stepping into my room.
“What are you doing here?” My hoarse voice sounds foreign to my own ears. I haven’t uttered a word since I left Thayer’s yesterday. God, I’m pathetic.
He frowns, his eyes searching mine. “Mom left a message saying she was going to be out of town and told me to come check up on you.”
I huff out a bitter laugh. “Well, I’m fine. You can leave now.”
“Yeah, you really seem fine,” he retorts, sarcasm dripping from every word.
“It’s a little late to start giving a shit.” I’m being an asshole, and I don’t even care. I’m sick of the secrets and lies, I’m sick of always trying to fix everything and everyone, and I’m sick of being an afterthought.
Hard eyes meet mine for a beat, and then he’s backing away, closing the door behind him. I flop back down on my bed, staring at the ceiling.
Sometime after the sun goes down, there’s a knock on my bedroom door. I blow out a breath, swinging my legs over the side of my bed and trudge toward the door. I open it, fully expecting to go another round with Grey, but instead, I find a bowl on the floor. Oatmeal with brown sugar. And a slice of toast.
My chin wobbles. I miss my brother so much it hurts, but how can we even begin to fix things if he won’t be honest with me? I take the bowl and toss it on top of my dresser. I have no appetite to speak of.
I crawl back into bed, put some Netflix on my laptop, and eventually pass out.
Thayer
“Are you gonna tell her?” Holden asks, elbows leaned up against the kitchen counter.
“Eventually.” I have to. I just haven’t figured out how. When she found me in Danny’s room, I was still raw and half-drunk. I couldn’t talk to her, not in there, of all places, even if I was coherent. I stayed up all night thinking about what the fuck that nine-one-one call means for us. I went from resenting her for Grey’s part in Danny’s death to trying to protect her from the truth in a matter of weeks. The last thing I want to do is hurt her, but judging by the look on her face, I ended up doing it anyway. I could practically hear her heart breaking, and I just sat there, not knowing what the fuck to say or do to fix it.
I knew I fucked up when I saw the barn key on my bed. Shayne loves the barn as much as I do. Maybe even more. The fact that she gave it up tells me all I need to know. She’s done. And I can’t even blame her.
“You should’ve seen her face, man. I’ve never seen her like that.”
“Not what I want to fuckin’ hear.”
If there’s one thing I’ve learned about Shayne, it’s that she hates being vulnerable. Especially in front of people. She acts like it doesn’t bother her that her mom’s never around, that her brother went from being her best friend to a stranger in a matter of months, but I know it does. I see her. When we lost Danny, I still had Holden and Christian. Shayne had no one. Every single fucking one of us turned our backs on her, all for reasons that didn’t have shit to do with her.
Sad blue eyes pop into my mind and I swipe my keys off the counter. Fuck it. “I’ll be back.”
Shayne isn’t Grey. Shayne is innocent. And she’s mine.
Without another word, I stride through the house and out to the Hellcat. Holden doesn’t need an explanation. He knows exactly where I’m going. I jump in, start the engine, and speed off toward her grandmother’s house.
I don’t give a fuck what happened. I lost her once. I’m not doing it again.
Shayne
The sound of Thayer’s Hellcat pulling up the drive sends a jolt of fear straight through me. Not for me. For Grey. I run out of my room and out the front door, thankful for the fact that Grey’s truck is parked in the garage.
Thayer’s slamming the door shut, prowling toward my door when I step onto the porch. When he looks up and sees me, he stops short, a surprised look crossing his features. He probably expected me to hide away in my room, which I would’ve if Grey wasn’t somewhere inside.
I’m a mess. My hair was never brushed after my shower yesterday, my face is puffy and swollen from crying and it’s free of makeup. My hoodie hangs past the bottom of my sleep shorts, and I’m wearing socks that reach the middle of my calves, but Thayer’s eyes roam my body, looking at me like he hasn’t seen me in months instead of two days.
“You need to go,” I say, folding my arms over my chest.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Not until you talk to me.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
“I disagree.” He takes a step toward me. “Last night—” His eyes drift over my shoulder, focusing on something behind me. His face contorts with anger, his entire demeanor shifting. “What the fuck is he doing here?”
“What am I doing here?” Grey asks, his tone challenging as he comes to stand in front of me. “I live here, motherfucker. What are you doing here?”
“Grey, go inside,” I say, coming around to stand in front of him, planting my hands against his chest to push him toward the door. He looks down at me, his eyes flashing with understanding.
“Is he the reason you’ve been crying all weekend?” He looks over my head at Thayer. “Did you fucking touch my sister?”
“You killed my brother. It’s only fair I fuck your sister.”
“Thayer!” I snap. What the hell is he thinking? Humiliation courses through me, my face getting hot. Grey takes advantage of my stunned state, charging past me, and judging by the look on Thayer’s face, that’s exactly what he was hoping for.
Grey throws a punch, but Thayer dips a shoulder, dodging the hit as he tackles Grey to the lawn. He raises his arm before slamming his fist into Grey’s face, the other hand gripping the collar of his shirt.
“Thayer, stop!” I run down the steps, then pull on Thayer’s arm, but he shakes me off easily.
“I didn’t fucking kill him,” Grey grunts.
Thayer lands another punch before Grey somehow gains the upper hand. They’re a pile of elbows and fists as they take turns getting their hits in until both of them are beaten bloody. If they don’t stop soon, someone’s going to be seriously hurt. I run back into the house, grabbing my phone off my bed, and call Holden.
“That was fast—”
“Holden, get over here fast. Grey’s here.” That’s all I need to say.
“Motherfucker. I’m coming.”
I drop the phone, running back outside.
“I heard you!” Thayer yells, sending another fist into the side of Grey’s face. Grey looks dazed, his eyes rolling for a second before he seems to come to. “I fucking heard it. You were with him when he died.”
What?
His elbow comes up like he’s going to hit him again, but I don’t think Grey can take another blow.
“Thayer!” My scream is desperate and guttural, surprising even myse
lf, and I finally break through to him. He looks at me over his shoulder, fist raised, chest heaving.
“Please stop. Please, please, please,” I cry. “He’s my brother.” My voice cracks on the last word, sounding weak.
Thayer releases his hold on Grey and staggers to his feet just as Holden’s Range Rover comes barreling down the drive. He jumps out, taking in the scene before him with murder written all over his face.
Thayer bends down to grip Grey’s shirt, pulling him to his feet. “Get in the fucking car.”
“Thayer, no.”
“I’m not going to hurt him.” My face must convey how little I believe him. “Anymore,” he tacks on belatedly. “This shit ends tonight.”
Grey drags his arm across his bloody mouth, then spits onto the lawn. “Agreed.” He ambles over to Holden’s Rover, hopping into the back seat. Instead of taking the Hellcat, Thayer climbs in the front next to Holden.
If they think I’m letting Grey walk into the lion’s den alone, they’re mistaken. Before Holden can drive off, I jog over, jumping into the back seat, then close the door. Thayer’s eyes meet mine, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say they were full of remorse. But then he turns away, looking out the windshield.
“Bleed on my seats and I’ll finish the job,” Holden says, then he lays on the gas, heading for Whittemore.
To say this is awkward would be a massive understatement. Thayer and Holden are on one side of the poolroom, arms folded over their chests, and Grey is on the other. I stand in the middle, leaning against the pool table behind me. The tension in the room is palpable. This is the first time we’ve all been in the same room together in over a year, and my stomach is all twisted up in knots, having no idea what to expect.
“Start talking,” Holden says, breaking the tense silence.
“I didn’t kill Danny.”
“But you were there when he died.” Thayer states it as a fact, his voice void of emotion.
Tell Me Pretty Lies Page 23
