Tell Me Pretty Lies

by Charleigh Rose

  Hot tears roll down my face, hearing him describe Danny’s last moments and what followed.

  “He threatened me,” Baker chimes in, pushing his foot against the table leg until his chair teeters on the two back legs. “He saw the camera around my neck and smashed it into pieces. Told me he’d kill me if I ever spoke a word of it. My dad had some legal troubles, and he offered to make them go away in exchange for my silence.”

  “I wanted to go to the police. I wanted to turn myself in, but he wouldn’t let me. He said I wasn’t throwing college and basketball away over an accident, but we all know it’s because he didn’t want that kind of scandal to reflect on him. He covered it up and had the records sealed, and that was that.” His eyes slide to mine. “Until you came back.”

  I shake my head, batting the tears off my cheek. “What do I have to do with any of this?”

  “Come on, Shayne. You’re smarter than that.” His head lolls to the side. “They suspected Grey. Grey was gone and your parents split. He was the perfect fall guy. But the second I saw the way they acted with you, I knew it was only a matter of time before they let you back in.”

  “You knew they’d eventually find out Grey didn’t do it.”

  He nods. “I tried minor shit at first, trying to scare you away, or at the very least, make you switch schools. But that night in the parking lot, you saw something you shouldn’t have. And that put you on my dad’s radar. I told him I had it under control. That I’d handle it. Because believe me, Shayne. He’d do much worse.”

  A chill licks its way up my spine. I believe that. Without a doubt.

  “He controls everything and everyone around him. If someone steps out of line, he doesn’t handle it well. But I’m not playing his game anymore.” He stands, wobbling on his feet. “So here’s my proposition.”

  “You really think you’re in a position to negotiate?” Thayer asks, his voice low and menacing. “What did we say we’d do if we found out who killed Danny? You were there when we said it, remember?” he taunts.

  “We said we’d get revenge—” Holden supplies.

  “No matter who it is,” Thayer finishes, moving around me, but Christian nods at Baker, signaling something.

  “Check your phones.”

  Thayer pulls out his phone and I lean in to see what it is. It’s a video from an unknown number, presumably Baker’s. He clicks on the triangle to play the video. It starts out with Christian and Danny roughhousing on the cliff, laughing and trying to push each other. The camera zooms in, and I can see the wide smiles on their faces.

  “I win, motherfucker!” Christian’s distant voice calls out, leaning over the cliff with his hands in the air, laughing victoriously. The video is taken from behind, but you can see the moment he realizes something isn’t right. His hands lock behind his head as he calls Danny’s name, over and over, then he’s pulling his phone out of his pocket, running down the path to the bottom. You can hear Baker whisper “shit”, and then the only thing we can see is the ground as he runs to help.

  Thayer stops the video, most likely not wanting to see what comes next. I don’t blame him. Holden does the same, throwing his phone onto the table in front of him.

  “He smashed my camera, but he didn’t think about my phone,” Baker says.

  “The whole thing is recorded. This is how you take him down.” Christian looks between us, gauging our reactions.

  “But it implicates you, too,” I say, stating the obvious.

  He lifts a shoulder. “I’m ready.”

  “Talk to me,” I murmur, running my fingers through Thayer’s hair that’s still damp from his shower. His head is on my chest, his arm hooked around me, holding me close. Christian left a couple hours ago with the promise to turn himself in tomorrow. I think I’m still in a state of shock, so I can’t even imagine how Thayer must feel. Selfishly, I’m scared he’s going to shut down and push me away again. I don’t want to fall asleep, afraid I’ll wake up tomorrow and everything will have changed.

  “I should’ve known. I should’ve seen something,” he says, sounding like he’s on the brink of sleep.

  “You couldn’t have,” I say. “And it’s time to stop blaming yourself.”

  It’s somewhat comforting that Danny wasn’t killed in cold blood, but somehow, I don’t think that would be the right thing to say. Thayer doesn’t respond, and eventually, I hear his breathing even out, telling me he fell asleep.

  Thayer

  Shayne’s body is like a furnace against me when I wake up. Her back is to my chest and both my arms are locked around her upper arms, like I was holding onto her, even in my sleep. I expected to feel like shit when I woke up after last night’s revelations, but instead I feel…free. Like maybe I can finally move on now that I know what happened to my brother, even if it meant losing my cousin.

  Shayne stirs in my arms, arching her back on a stretch, and then she turns in my arms to face me, sleepy, blue eyes meeting mine.

  “You’re still here,” she says, her voice raspy with sleep.

  I pick up her wrist, bringing it to my lips to kiss the scar there. “Where else would I be?”

  Shayne

  4 months later…

  Opening the door to my room, I toss my backpack onto my bed, noticing an envelope on my pillow. I round the bed, plucking it off from the comforter. Shaking it, I feel something heavier than paper inside. I open it, finding the rusted barn key and a note.

  Meet me in the barn.

  Excitement swirls inside my stomach. After some convincing, Thayer went back to school. It’s a miracle he wasn’t dropped from his classes with how little he actually attended. Even with the distance, we manage to see each other several times a week, but I didn’t think I’d get to see him today. Not wasting any time, I turn back around, grabbing an envelope of my own off my desk and stuffing it into the back of my denim shorts before I sprint through the house, avoiding the moving boxes that line the halls.

  We’ve still got a couple months left in this house, but we had to get an early start on packing, especially with all the stuff my grandmother collected. Somewhere in one of those boxes is the name, address, and phone number belonging to my father. Turns out, that was who my mom was with that night. He wants to meet me, but I haven’t decided what I want to do yet, so she stuck his information in an envelope for me to open when I’m ready. For the first time in my life, I don’t feel like something’s missing. I’ve never felt so whole. And it’s not only because of Thayer, but I have Holden and Grey back, too. If only the three of them could come to terms with the fact that they’re half-brothers, life would be pretty much perfect. But for now, baby steps.

  I take off through the woods that are lush and green now that the snow has melted, heading for the barn. We haven’t been out here in a while now that we don’t have to hide, and I’ve missed it. I slow my steps once I get closer, noticing something different. The wood looks newer, and it doesn’t look like it’s on the verge of collapsing.

  “Thayer?” I call out, pushing the door open, finding him standing there in his signature black shirt and jeans with his hands stuffed into his front pockets. “Oh my God,” I say, not believing my eyes. Everything looks brand new. There’s an actual floor for one, and two couches—the original one and a new one—with blankets and pillows thrown across them. A coffee table sits in between them, and twinkle lights hang from the rafters above.

  Thayer walks toward me, scratching the back of his neck. “What do you think?”

  “I love it,” I say, meeting him halfway. Everything is all fixed up. I bet the roof doesn’t even leak anymore. It’s still our barn, just cozier. And definitely cleaner. Thayer takes my hand, pulling me over to the old couch before he sits down, tugging me onto his lap. I sit on his thighs with my knees on either side of his legs, and his palms grip my thighs.

  “Hi.”

  “Hi,” I say, leaning in to press my lips to his. “This is amazing.” I look up at the lights, my hands braced on his sho
ulders. “But why?”

  “I fell in love with you here.” He leans forward to kiss the column of my neck, causing goosebumps to prick my arms. “It’s where you told me you loved me.” Another kiss. This time to my collarbone. “Where I felt you from the inside for the first time,” he says, his hands sliding around to squeeze my ass. “And I’ll probably fucking end up marrying you here one day, too.”

  I bite down on my lip, trying not to cry as he sucks and licks the sensitive skin on my neck. A vision of a sixteen-year-old Thayer on the day we met pops into my mind, his brooding yet curious eyes inspecting me as I slipped inside the barn to get out of the rain.

  It was my third day living at Whittemore, and I was bored, exploring the property when I stumbled upon it. I hadn’t even met Thayer before then, and I was fascinated with him from the moment I saw him. Who would’ve thought we’d end up here?

  “I love you,” I say, my fingers tracing the tattoo on his shoulder. “I love you so much it hurts sometimes.”

  “I love you,” he says, his hands sliding up my back, hitting the envelope sticking out of my pants. “What’s this?”

  I smile, almost having forgotten. “I have something for you, too. Open it.”

  His eyebrows cinch together as he opens the envelope, pulling the letter out. His eyes scan the paper, and I see the moment realization sets in.

  “UMass?” His eyebrows jump up to his hairline.

  I nod and Thayer smiles—really smiles—and it feels so good to see him do that again. It feels even better knowing I’m the one who put it there. UMass is a mere mile from Amherst, and I ended up getting a Division II athletic scholarship for volleyball. It’s a partial scholarship, but it’s better than nothing.

  “You’re moving in with me,” he states it as a fact rather than a question, tossing the letter to the table in front of us.

  “We’ll see.” I laugh, knowing I’ll be moved in the day I graduate.

  Leaning over, he lays me on the couch, his hips fitting between my thighs. His mouth covers my nipple over the fabric of my T-shirt, sucking it into his mouth and my back comes off the couch, arching into him. “I can be very convincing.”

  My mom was right. Finding a love like ours is like catching lightning in a bottle. And I’m never letting go.

  First and foremost, to the readers, whether you’re just discovering me or have been there since the beginning, thank you. I’m so grateful that you’ve taken a chance on me.

  Leigh, thank you for talking me out of my 329374 meltdowns while writing this.

  Sarah Grim Sentz! You are an absolute angel. I couldn’t have done it without you.

  Tijuana, thank you for always sending me encouragement when I need it the most.

  Thank you to my amazing editor Paige Smith for sacrificing to get this one done. As always, please don’t break up with me.

  To the bloggers, thank you for busting your asses all day every day. I appreciate you. I probably won’t ever have my shit together, and I’m so beyond thankful for everything you do to fit me into your busy schedules. <3

  Lastly, my reader group—my sweet baby Angels—I love you. You’re my happy place. Thank you for your endless support.

  Continue reading for a look at Bad Habit…

  PROLOGUE

  Then

  Three years ago…

  The first time I laid eyes on Asher Kelley, drunk and bleeding, I decided two things. The first being that he was the most beautiful boy I’d ever seen in my entire life. I was sure of it. And the second thing? He was the kind of boy that I should never, under any circumstances, get involved with. But, even my pre-pubescent self knew on some level that I’d gladly reach inside my own chest and offer him my beating heart if he’d only ask.

  What I didn’t know then was that would be the first of many nights just like that one. Turned out, Asher’s dad was a little bit of a drunk, and a lot of an asshole. If it wasn’t his dad, it was some poor soul who decided to cross Asher. He was always looking for trouble, it seemed. Or maybe trouble just knew where to find him.

  My brother, Dashiell, was always quick to kick me out of his room on the nights Asher snuck in. It became routine to them. Just another Thursday night. But seeing him tumble through my brother’s window never ceased to break my heart and make it beat faster all at once.

  Over the past three years, Asher has pretty much become a permanent fixture in our lives. My parents are either oblivious or don’t care enough to question why he’s always here, or why he occasionally dons a black eye or a split lip. Part of me hates them for it. They’ve made their feelings on Asher clear. They don’t like him hanging around, think he’s a bad influence. But Dash is stubborn, and loyal to a fault. So, they tolerate Asher at best.

  I’m sitting cross-legged on the floor of Dash’s room playing Guitar Hero on his Xbox when I hear the telltale tapping on the window that signals Asher’s arrival, and I’m immediately uneasy. Dash was supposed to meet Asher and their other friend, Adrian, at a party earlier. Alarm bells go off, and I drop the guitar, scurrying over to the window on my knees. I help him slide it open, and he hefts himself over the sill.

  “Asher? What happened? Where’s Dash?” I reach for the lamp on Dash’s bedside table, and when it illuminates his swollen, bloody face and T-shirt, I gasp, my hand flying to my heart.

  “Asher!” I run to his side and help him to the bed. He stumbles over the laces of his untied combat boots, almost taking us both down.

  “Oh my God, say something!” I panic, warring between getting my dad or calling the police.

  “Calm down.” He chuckles darkly. “You’re going to wake up your pops.”

  “That’s exactly what I’m going to do,” I snap, before turning on my heels. Someone needs to do something for once. And being a pretty powerful attorney, my dad is someone who can actually help. I feel a hot hand grip my wrist, and despite the circumstances, my already racing heart quickens at his touch.

  “Come on,” he says in a hushed, gravelly tone. “It’s just a little cut. You should see what he looks like,” he tacks on with a hint of a smirk tugging at his full lips.

  “Is that supposed to make me feel better?” I ask, trying to jerk my arm out of his grasp, to no avail. “Because it doesn’t. Not even a little.” Tears start to fill my eyes, and his own soften at the sight.

  “I’m okay, Briar,” he promises, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “Just hang out with me for a while until Dash gets back.” Indecision swirls in my gut, and I bite my lip, contemplating my next move.

  “Fine.” I sigh. “I’ll be right back.” I tiptoe out into the kitchen, my bare feet sticking to the hardwood floor. I grab a washcloth and run it under the sink before snagging a bandage out of the cabinet. I’m no nurse, but it’s better than nothing. When I come back to the room, Asher is sitting on the bed with his elbows on his knees and his hands fixed on either side of his neck. I drop to my knees in front of his spread ones and gently brush his dark hair off his forehead. His eyes snap up to mine—one green with yellow flecks, and the other a honey brown with flecks of green. He swallows, his throat bobbing with the motion. I avert my eyes and bring the damp washcloth up to dab at the dried blood crusted near his eyebrow. He clenches his jaw, but says nothing as I do my best to clean him up.

  “Where’s my brother?” I question, if only to distract myself from his close proximity. Up until recently, I’m fairly certain Asher has only ever seen me as an annoying little sister. Lately, things have been…different. Like all the air is sucked out of the room when we’re in it. And I can’t help but wonder how no one else feels it when it’s suffocating me.

  We’ve had a few almost moments. I thought he might even kiss me once. I was walking out of the bathroom in my towel, and there he was, waiting on the opposite wall with his arms crossed. His eyes raked down my damp body, my long, blonde hair dripping water onto my pink toes, leaving a puddle at my feet. His nostrils flared. I squeezed my towel tighter, and he moved toward me. He e
xtended his arm, and I could feel the heat of his skin at my hip, even through my towel. I sucked in a breath, closing my eyes. Then…nothing. I opened my eyes to see that aloof smirk back in place, his face mere inches from mine. His hand gripped the doorknob I was standing in front of.

  “I need to take a piss,” he said, moving past me. I swallowed my embarrassment, rolled my eyes at myself for thinking he might actually kiss me, and scurried back to my room, leaving him chuckling behind me.

  “He’s at the party,” he says, bringing me back from the past. I feel my cheeks heat from the lingering mortification of that day.

  “I never made it there,” he clarifies. “I just thought I’d chill here for a while.” He doesn’t elaborate, but I know what he means. Until he cools off. Until the alcohol catches up with his piece of shit dad, and he finally passes out.

  Rising on my knees, I blow on the gash above his eyebrow to dry it off a little before applying the Band-Aid. His eyes squeeze shut, and one hand comes up to grip the back of my bare thigh. I freeze, feeling that tightening low in my stomach that only seems to happen when Asher is near.

  “It doesn’t look that bad now,” I say quietly, reaching forward to pluck the Band-Aid off the bed next to him. I feel his thumb rub small circles on the back of my thigh, and I try not to gasp. Crazily, I wonder what that hand would feel like between my legs. I shake that thought from my head and smooth the bandage over his cut with my thumbs.

  “Head wounds tend to look a lot worse than they really are,” Asher says, clearing his throat and pulling away. I back up, still dazed, as he stands and reaches behind his neck to pull his blood-speckled white tee off his back before balling it up and tossing it to the floor. I think he’s going to take one of Dash’s shirts, but he doesn’t. He plops back down on the bed, exhaling roughly, running a hand through his hair. I gulp watching the way his forearms flex with the motion, and when he lies back on the bed, displaying the muscles on his stomach, I have to look away.