Tell Me Pretty Lies
Charleigh Rose
Shayne
I cling to my brother’s arm as he leads me up the rain-slicked steps and through the door to Whittemore, thankful for the support. My shaky legs have threatened to go limp beneath me more times than I can count today, between the wet, soft ground at the cemetery that tried to swallow my heels and the fact that I’ve never been good in anything other than sneakers to begin with. As soon as we enter the foyer, the smell of one thousand casseroles hits my nostrils. Why do people think food makes everything better? Sorry your loved one died. Here, have some fucking potato casserole. Hope that helps!
“I’m going upstairs,” Grey says flatly, unlatching my grip on his arm. His eyes are bloodshot, and I’m pretty sure he’s still in a state of shock. And probably a little high.
“You okay?” I ask. Stupid question, considering. But it’s more than Danny’s funeral. He seems distracted and distressed.
“I’m fine.” He gives me a perfunctory kiss on the top of my head, and I spot Thayer over his shoulder, casually swiping a bottle of brown liquor from the bar. Grey heads for the stairs and I glance around, wondering if I’m the only one seeing this. Holden and their cousin Christian sit on the white sofa, glassy-eyed and ties loosened, elbows resting on their knees. I look to my left as Greyson’s intercepted by Mom and her fiancé August—Thayer and Holden’s dad—before he can make his escape. Mom pulls him in for a hug, and August claps him on the shoulder, and Grey tenses. Dozens of people I’ve never even met before are gathered in the house we’ve called home for the past two years, mingling and remarking on what a tragedy it is to lose someone so young.
I want to throw something.
A crashing sound brings my attention back toward the bar where a glass has now shattered on the hardwood. Thayer steadies himself on the edge of the bar cabinet, staring blankly at the broken glass. His grandfather appears, pulling him upright, and Thayer tries to shake him off.
“Man up,” he orders in that quiet-but-deadly tone that brooks no argument. “Your family needs you.” His hands tighten around Thayer’s upper arms, shaking him a little.
“Move,” Thayer says through clenched teeth. Instinctively, I hurry over to him, trying to attract as little attention as possible, ready to intervene. I know two things for certain by the look on Thayer’s face. One, he’s two seconds from punching his own grandfather at his brother’s funeral, and two, nothing is going to stop him from leaving right now.
“I’m so sorry for your loss,” I rattle off the cliché line, stepping between them, even though it’s the last thing I want to do. William Ames is as powerful as he is old, and not nearly as nice. He eyes me like I’m a nuisance, but he brings me in for a polite hug and a kiss on the cheek, knowing people are most likely watching. I fight the urge to wipe my cheek.
“Thank you, Shayne,” he says as if it pains him to play nice, his hands still holding my forearms. When he tries to release me and walk away, I tighten my grip on his arms, sidestepping with him in an effort to buy Thayer more time.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” I ask innocently. His piercing blue eyes bore into me, and his wiry, white eyebrows are set in two permanent, angry slashes, giving him a villainous appearance.
Thayer takes advantage of his distraction and prowls for the door without looking back, and I let out a relieved sigh once he’s out of sight. Crisis averted. For now.
“I think we have it covered,” William says shortly, bringing my attention back to him. I let go quickly, taking a step back. His nostrils flare and he makes like he’s going to go after Thayer.
“Let him go,” I say, my voice firm even though this man scares the shit out of me. I’ve never been this assertive with him. I don’t know where this is coming from, and judging by the unimpressed look on his face, he doesn’t either. “He’ll only cause a scene if he stays here,” I say, trying another tactic. No one wants that, least of all William. His family acquired this estate in the early 1800s, making the Ames family one of the first, and he won’t let you forget it. Owning the oldest and most trusted cargo airline turned passenger airline makes for a very rich man, and being a rich man means people are always watching, waiting for you to fall from grace. To a man like William, appearances are everything.
He scoffs, walking away, and I don’t waste any time hurrying for the door in search of Thayer.
“Thayer?” I call out, closing the front door behind me, but I don’t see him anywhere. Thunder rumbles in the distance, the weather mimicking the somber day, and I scan the front yard, knowing in my gut he isn’t here. My eyes lift, gazing out at the trees surrounding the property. These woods are massive, but I know exactly where he went. Without thinking of the consequences, I hurry down the steps and take off in a sprint, but I don’t get far before my shoes trip me up. I pull them off, bracing one hand against a tree for balance, before tossing them into a pile of leaves.
The wet ground seeps through my knee-high tights, but I don’t care. I push through, running as fast as I can. My hair whips in the wind, and I don’t realize I’m crying until the cold air hits my tear-streaked cheeks. Raindrops fall slowly at first, but by the time I get to the old barn, my clothes and hair are more than a little damp. When I see that the barn door is slightly ajar, I slow my steps and breathe a sigh of relief, knowing he’s here.