Tell Me Pretty Lies(83)

“I have a bad feeling about him,” I admit. “Grey said he got there before the ambulance on the day Danny died. At first, I just figured he had connections and someone tipped him off about the nine-one-one call, knowing he’s family. But why would he cover for Grey like that?”

“He knew Grey was blood,” Holden supplies.

Thayer shakes his head. “No. Samuel doesn’t give a shit about that. He’s gonna beat his own son but protect his half-nephew? That doesn’t add up.”

“Where is he now?” I ask.

“Fuck if I know. He’ll be here tonight, though,” Holden says, crumpling up a napkin before tossing it onto his plate.

“We’ll talk to him then.” Thayer reaches over to grab the leg of my chair, sliding me toward him, then he’s pulling to set me sideways on his lap with his hand on my thigh. “Anything else I should know?”




A few hours later, the house is full of people. Taylor had the audacity to show her face after everything. She waltzed in like nothing happened, but Holden cornered her, telling her to leave. She pouted about it not being fair because all her friends were here, so Holden told her if she wanted to stay, she’d have to apologize to me.

I’d like to say that I didn’t find a sick satisfaction in watching her fumble over her words with jealousy written all over her face as Thayer hugged me from behind, kissing my neck, oblivious to her presence, but that’d be a lie. Her apology was anything but sincere, but I didn’t care. She’s irrelevant to me and the people I care about, which is the best revenge for a girl like her.

Christian still hasn’t shown up, and I can’t say I’m not a little nervous to face him after betraying his trust. Hopefully, he’ll understand.

A commotion from out back has me pushing up onto my toes in an attempt to see over everyone and into the backyard.

“Motherfucker,” Thayer mutters, pushing his way through the crowd of people gathered in his kitchen, heading for the back door. I’m right behind, still not sure what’s happening, but once we step outside, I see Liam, Valen’s boyfriend, laid out in the grass, holding his bloody nose. Valen has her hands cupped over her mouth in shock, and Holden’s hovering above him.

“By the way, I fucked your girlfriend,” he shouts, throwing his arms out.

“Holden!” Valen yells, rushing to help Liam up off the ground, but he shoves her away, refusing her help.

What. The. Fuck.

“Touch her again, motherfucker,” Holden warns, taking a step forward, but Thayer steps in front of him, holding him back.

Liam pulls himself to his feet and spits in the grass, wiping his nose with the back of his sleeve before he turns to go back inside, and presumably, right out the front door. I run up to Valen to see what the hell is going on.

“Are you okay? What happened?”

“I need to talk to him,” she says, pointing toward the direction Liam went. “I promise I’ll call you later, okay?” She gives me a quick kiss on the cheek, and then she’s heading back inside.

“Valen…” Holden says, his eyes begging her to stay. She turns to look at him over her shoulder, hesitating, but then she turns back around, disappearing inside.

Valen and Holden? Holy shit. I know I’ve been distracted lately, but how did something like this escape my notice?

Once they’re gone, everyone goes back to drinking, and the drama is already forgotten. Holden’s eyes are angry and hard, but I can see the hurt he’s trying to conceal.

“Are you all right?” I ask, walking up to him and Thayer, rubbing my arms against the cold. I’m wearing fleece-lined leggings, my Sherpa jacket, and a beanie, but I’m still freezing. It’s as if we’ve skipped fall and went straight to winter.

“I need a drink,” he says, heading back inside for the kitchen.

Thayer and I exchange looks, and I can tell he’s just as clueless as I am. We follow him inside where he promptly walks up to the island counter and takes a swig out of some tequila someone left out, then jams a hand through his hair, seeming conflicted.

“What happened?” I ask.

“Valen is the devil. That’s what happened.”

I frown, confused, but before I can say another word, Baker and Christian come barreling into the kitchen. Christian’s arm is around Baker’s neck as Baker drags his drunken body toward us.

Thayer straightens, taking in the sight.

“Found him at the falls. He almost went over,” Baker explains, shrugging Christian’s arm off. He stumbles, losing his balance, and Thayer walks over to him, jerking him up by his jacket before planting him in one of the chairs at the dining table.

“Stay,” he orders, pointing a finger at him like a dog.

“Everyone else, get the fuck out!”

Holden walks out back, making the same announcement. Baker turns to leave, but Thayer stops him.

“Not you.”

Baker works his jaw, hesitating, but ultimately, he listens, taking a seat on the other side of the table. Christian starts to slide off his chair and I rush over, catching him before he hits the floor. I shove on his shoulders to push him upright, and bloodshot eyes meet mine so full of pain and something else I can’t place.

“Why do you insist on being nice to me?” he slurs. “If you would have just stayed away…”