Page 50 of Yours to Break

He had practically served us Oliver on a silver platter. He wasn’t allowed to take him back now.

Lane ended our staring contest, letting go of Oliver to turn back towards the person he was supposed to have been here for. But I saw how his hand had caressed Oliver, lingering on the small of his back for a split second; Lane had done it so I’d see. I doubted that Oliver knew how possessive his friend was.

Something about Oliver attracted folks like us.

“I’m ready,” Lane stated, drawing me out of my head.

Oh, right. Cousin. Murder.

Oliver returned to his rightful place at my feet, managing to settle some of my increasingly violent thoughts. Hudson ventured over to flank Oliver’s other side, and I wondered if he’d also seen the hand thing.

Greyson joined Lane to stand beside the metal table holding his abusive cousin. They were quiet as they spoke to one another. I could tell it was an emotional moment for Lane. Grey kissed his lover’s forehead chaste, then stepped back to give him space. Lane moved to stand closer to Tate’s head, looking him directly in the eye as he began to speak.

“I’ve made countless speeches to you in my head over the years. I never expected to be able to actually recite them to you. It’s so weird being able to speak uninterrupted like this… Do you still remember the last time? You said that you’d gotten a girlfriend, so you didn’t need me anymore. That you weren’t a homo. It felt so strange… I’d gone so long thinking that it would never end. I was a kid, Tate.I was just a kid…” He closed his eyes for a moment as he breathed deeply. “And when you said you didn’t need me anymore, I felt destroyed. It was so confusing, you know? I hated every little thing you did to me. I hated even looking at you or hearing your name. So why the fuck was Iupsetthat you were letting me go? I couldn’t figure that out for years. I went through high school thinking I was sick and perverted. But, no… No, I felt that way because you had killed my motherfucking soul and then thrown away the husk of my body. I was a fuckingchildwho was made to believe no one would ever want me but you, and then youfucking left? I’m glad you did. I’m even grateful for it. But I felt so messed up. I felt like maybe I wasn’t actually a victim since I wasn’t jumping for joy when you abandoned me.”

Feeling Oliver begin to shake, I tore my gaze from Lane and the power he wielded so brightly. Tears streamed down Oliver’s face as he listened to his friend.

“I wish there were something I could say that would make you understand, but there’s not. You’re the exact same now as you were back then. In your eyes, your preteen cousin was obviously seducing you and you justhadto rape me. Although, you probably don’t consider it rape, do you? How deranged are you that you truly believe Iwantedit? I’ve tried so hard to understandwhy. I’ve tried to make excuses for you in my mind. I’ve gone back and forth for years in my head about whether or not those two years actually happened or if I had made it all up. I questioned my very reality because of you.”

Lane circled the table, stopping at the small tool cart that held the few weapons I had left there for this moment. Seemingly without a thought, his fingers grasped the handle of a butcher knife, lifting it from the cart.

He confidently climbed onto the operating table, knife now held between his lips, straddling his older cousin. I was convinced he was either high or had a concerningly high tolerance for pain. Maybe the years of suffering overrode his injuries, giving him the strength to ignore his physical pain in order to put an end to the person responsible for it all.

“I’ve been thinking about how to kill you. I thought about torturing you. I thought of a lot of inventive ways of murdering someone. But now I’m just tired of spending my time thinking of you. I want to go home, have my boyfriend pamper me, order sushi, and fuck. I want to watch a movie in his lap while my cat sits in mine. I want to forget you ever existed. And I will. Not tonight, not tomorrow, not even a month from now, but eventually. You won’t control me any longer. I’ll no longer want to throw up when I see your name. I’ll be able to drink the brand of beer you always made me drink.”

“The reality, Tate, is that you have donenothingin your life to be remembered by,” Lane stated. “I stabbed another guy to death recently. I don’t remember most of it, but apparently it was pretty gruesome. Honestly, I think I took out all the violence meant for you on him. You could consider yourself lucky, or you could piss yourself thinking about how slow this blade will pierce you. I’m going to savor every second of it.”

He held the knife just over his cousin’s heart, taking a moment to breathe before slowly pushing the blade into the skin. His face appeared peaceful as he watched Tate thrash his head around, his screams muffled by the gag still between his lips. Lane took his time, just as he had promised.

As the hilt of the knife met Tate’s chest, Lane twisted his hand and pulled up. Bright red blood poured from the wound, soaking Tate’s shirt and pooling onto the cool metal of the table. He steadily pushed the blade into his skin. We watched as centimeter after centimeter disappeared. When a little over half of the blade was in, Lane twisted the knife and plunged it to the hilt. He then smoothly and quickly pulled the knife from its sheath. Blood flowed freely out of the wound, cascading down Tate’s sides onto the gurney.

Lane closed his eyes, panting, only opening them when Grey approached the head of the table. Lane smiled before rushing forward to take Greyson’s lips in a heady kiss. The three of us observed from the sidelines, content in watching but not interacting with the scene before us.

Lane breathed out, “Thank you.”

“For what, baby?” Greyson asked.

“For letting me really live again.”

Our brother tilted his head, asking, “What do you mean, sweetheart?”

“Before we met, I was just going through the motions. I felt so broken, Grey. I was alive, but I wasn’t living. You didn’t need to give me his life for me to feel alive. I’m glad he’s gone, but right now, I don’t feel any different from how I felt before his heart stopped. He didn’t need to be dead for me to feel complete. You complete me, Grey.”

“Baby–”

“I’m not done,” Lane snapped. “I just don’t want you to think that I love you only because you gave me justice. I love you so much, Greyson.” Lane’s voice caught in his throat. He murmured, “Can we get married?”

“Baby, are you proposing? And here I was, planning a whole thing, just for you to ask me from on top of a dead body.”

20

Oliver

It felt like bees were buzzing around underneath my ribs. For a minute, I even considered if the past few months had all been a weird fever dream, because none of this felt real.

Maybe I was in a coma or something?

I wasn’t sure why Lane’s proposal was what finally made me snap out of this weirdly happy trance I’d been in. It was the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back.

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