Tell Me Pretty Lies(84)

Ice fills my veins, like my instincts realize something before my mind can catch up, and I stumble back, my butt hitting the floor. People are still making their way out of the house, and someone steps on my fingers, but it barely registers. Suddenly, another piece of the puzzle snaps into place as a single phrase from the night of the fire pops into my head.

Just be glad you were in the kitchen when it happened.

“How did you know I was in the kitchen?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Baby, what the fuck?” Thayer says, his arms hooking underneath mine to pull me to my feet, but I can’t tear my eyes away from Christian. And judging by the way he’s looking at me, he knows I’ve put it together.

“It was you, wasn’t it?”

“Shayne,” Thayer says, looking between the two of us. “Explain.”

“It was him. This whole time—my locker, my tires, the window…”

“You?” Thayer says, incredulous. “You were behind it?”

“It was supposed to scare her. I wasn’t trying to hurt her—”

“You weren’t trying to hurt her? You set a fire in her house!” Thayer lunges for him with murder in his eyes, but I step in front of him, my hands on his waist.

“Hitting him isn’t going to give us any answers.”

“No, but it’ll feel good,” he argues, his jaw flexing in anger.

“Look at him. He’s barely conscious as it is.”

“I’m drunk, not deaf,” Christian says, his voice garbled.

“Why?” Holden chimes in. “Why the fuck would you go through all that trouble?”

I turn around to face him as my brain works overtime trying to work out the last piece of the puzzle. “What did I ever do to you?”

Why would he want to scare me away? And why would he be drunk at the falls? Then it hits me. That look in his eyes I couldn’t place…it was guilt. Guilt because—

“You killed Danny.”

Christian doesn’t answer at first, but then he drops his head into his hands, and his shoulders start to shake.

“You better deny that right fucking now,” Holden barks.

Christian looks up at him, eyes shining with tears. “It was an accident.”

His admission hits me like a punch to the gut, and I feel Thayer’s chest heaving behind me. I tense, knowing I won’t be able to hold him back this time. I stick my hand behind me, locking my fingers with his in an attempt to calm him, but it’s in vain, because he’s on Christian before I can blink.

“You killed my brother!” He fists Christian’s jacket, throwing him up against the wall. Christian doesn’t put up a fight, and Thayer pulls back his fist, sending it into his face. His head bounces off the wall, his nose spurting blood. “You could’ve killed my girl.” Another punch. This time to the stomach, and Christian doubles over. “You lied to us for a fucking year!” He lands one final punch to his gut, and then Christian’s sliding down the wall into a puddle on the floor.

“Thayer, stop!”

I know what he did is wrong and fucked up in so many ways, but all I can think of when I see Christian like this is the scene in the parking lot where his dad doled out the same abuse. I look over to Holden and Baker, but neither one of them moves to help, so I insert myself between them right before Thayer’s about to send a foot into Christian’s stomach. He stops himself, looking at me like I’ve grown three heads.

I stand on my tiptoes, bringing my hands to his face, forcing him to focus on me. His nostrils are flared, his jaw set hard. “This isn’t going to help anything. Hurting him isn’t going to bring Danny back.” His eyes squeeze shut as if he’s in pain. “We’ll make it right,” I promise him. “But not like this.”

“We were fucking around, daring each other to jump like we always do,” Christian says, pulling himself up to sit against the wall, clutching his stomach. “He was being a pussy, talking about how it was too cold. We started wrestling, trying to push each other off, but I got the upper hand.”

He stops, leaning his head back to look up at the ceiling as tears roll out of the corners of his eyes. “I fucking laughed. I laughed as he fell. And then I looked over the edge, waiting for him to jump out of the water and flip me off, but…he never came up.”

“Finish your story so I can fucking kill you,” Holden says, his eyes glassy, arms folded over his chest.

Christian nods, resigned to his fate. “I panicked. I couldn’t think, so I called my dad as I ran for the shore. He told me not to call the cops and said he was on his way. I jumped in, looking for him. Then he showed up,” he says, flicking his chin at Baker, who’s sitting there with his hood on, staring blankly ahead. “He was there doing some shit for his photography class. He saw the whole thing, then jumped in to help me. Eventually, we found Danny. I don’t know how long, but it felt like hours.”

He inhales deeply, pressing his eyes with the heels of his palms. Shock has all of us paralyzed. I don’t even think we breathe, waiting for him to finish.

“We pulled him out, but I could tell…” he trails off, his hands balling into fists. “I could tell he was dead. I didn’t know Grey had texted Danny, or that he told him to meet us there. I heard him calling Danny’s name, and I looked up, seeing him on the cliff. I panicked. Again. So we ran. The next thing I know, Grey’s yelling. He must have seen Danny on the shore. My dad came and got rid of Grey. Made it seem like he’d take the fall if he didn’t get out of there.”