Page 20 of The Lies We Tell Ourselves

The liquid in the bottle glinted in the moving light of the flames as if to remind me this bottle was in fact not empty and that it needed drinking. There was only so much I could process at the moment. All I wanted was to chase oblivion and forget tonight ever happened. I lifted the bottle to my lips and swallowed down one burning mouthful after the next until my lungs screamed at me to take a breath.

As the world around me blurred, my racing heart calmed and a soothing numbness spread through my veins. My eyes felt heavy as the exhaustion I spent every day ignoring grew stronger.

“What the fuck happened?” McCormack said as he dropped down in a seat opposite me. I rolled my eyes and brought the bottle back to my lips.

“Cap, seriously, who was that kid?” My head rolled in the direction of Vieck’s voice as he took the chair next to me. I shrugged and carried on drinking.

“Daisy said he was a freshman,” Stevens muttered, loading more logs onto the fire that had all but burned out. “Said you made him cry?”

Buchanan laughed, passing out beers to the guys before plopping down next to me. “Seriously, Cap, what the fuck?”

“Nothin’,” I grunted.

“Michelle also told me that she saw Elise running down the stairs in tears.” Stevens smirked and tilted his head, watching me too closely for my liking. “What did she do?”

“Or didn’t, more to the point.” I snorted.

“She get freaked out over that whopper you’re packing?” Vieck raised his bottle at me before taking a drink.

“Somethin’ like that.” I tipped my head and closed my eyes, done with this conversation already.

“Seriously though, Dillon.” My eyes flew open as I glared at Buchanan. He raised his hands in mock surrender. “What happened with the kid?”

“Yeah! Everyone is talking about you going postal on him,” Stevens added.

I heaved a sigh. “Nothin’, I told ya.”

“Cut the shit, Cap.” McCormack leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “This isn’t like you.” I grunted, making him chuckle. “I know you’re a prickly fucker, but this?” He waved his hand toward the house. “This was something else, right? Something personal?”

I couldn’t hide my wince even if I tried. I wedged the now half-empty bottle of tequila between my legs and carded my hands through my hair. “It doesn’t matter.” I sighed.

“It does, man,” Stevens said. “You know we’re here for you, right?”

“We got your back, Cap!” Vieck agreed.

“We’re a team!” McCormack nodded.

“Fuck off, all of you.” I took another swig of the burning liquid, and the world started to move all on its own.

“No,” Buchanan said, his tone brokering no argument. “You tell us what the hell that was all about, and let us help you for once.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose and tried to order the thoughts and feelings churning around in my mind. I couldn’t tell them the truth—that I loved and hated that boy in equal measure. That he knew a secret about me no one else knew—one that would most likely lose me my place on the team. Coach had never outrightly said anything against queer players, but there was enough undertone in his commentary to know he wasn’t an ally in any form, and the whole reason I was here would be ripped away from me in an instant. I couldn’t allow that to happen.

I might be an unsociable ass and generally hate everyone, but these guys were more like family to me. We’d all arrived as naive freshmen, and we’d partied hard and played harder to get where we are today. So I owed them something, some semblance of the truth. But not the whole truth.

“I know him from back home.”

“Called it,” Stevens whooped.

“Shut up.” Vieck laughed and whacked him around the head. “He’ll never tell us if you keep butting in.”

I cleared my throat; it felt thick and dry. A bead of sweat ran down the back of my neck, even though I felt cold to the bone. “He… his dad.” Fuck. I raised the shaky bottle to my lips and swallowed down the liquid fire. Normally, cheap-ass drinks get better the more you drink, but this paint stripper only got worse. My fingers and toes started to feel numb as the alcohol spread through my body. “His dad beat me up when I was a freshman, broke my arm and stuff. I ended up in the hospital for the weekend while they set the cast and monitored me for concussion.”

I looked around at the guys. Each and every one of their faces wore the same expression. Complete and utter shock, disbelief, and anger.

“He fucking WHAT?” Buchanan bellowed, his hands clenched into white-knuckled fists.

“Yup he told his old man I was bullying him.” Lie. “That he was afraid to go to school.” Lie. “That I’d threatened to break his legs.” Lies! All of it—fucking lies. I was the lowest of the low. Even if I begged on my knees, Jamie would never forgive me once he found out the truth.

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