Forsaking Truth (27 page)

They couldn’t look at
each other. Jesus, how could he have done that? He hadn’t kissed anyone but
Luke in over half a decade and he
just kissed his
fucking sister.

“Did it change
anything?”

He turned and faced
her. Clearing his throat, he shifted through the guilt and tried to analyze any
other feelings. “It felt dirty, like I was kissing my sister.”

She laughed without
humor. “Are yo
u going to tell Luke?”

God, Luke. He should,
but Luke would freak. He didn’t want that. Not for him, not for Luke, and
certainly not for Sheilagh. “No.”

She nodded.

After a while he said,
“Let’s go back to the bar. Your guy looked a little stunned when
you took off. He’s probably worried about you. God knows
what they’ve done to him.”

“I’ll follow you
back.”

He gently caught her
arm. “Are we okay, Shei? I do love you. I’m sorry for being a jerk.”

She nodded. “We’re
okay.”

When they reached the
pub, Tris
tan opened her door. They walked in silence
and were greeted by loud voices. Sheilagh tensed and increased her strides.
“This isn’t good.”

Tristan chuckled
behind her, but his laughter died when he saw Luke’s face. He was angry. Lines
of apprehension brack
eted his eyes and mouth. His
stomach sank. Tonight was going to be a long night.

Luke slammed the barn
door and threw his keys on the table. Tristan came in a moment later.

“Luke, will you please
stop.”

Luke drew in a steady
breath, looking anyt
hing but steady. He fisted his
hands at his hips and seethed. “What happened?”

“Nothing.”

He turned and pinned
Tristan with a skeptical glare. “You’re fucking lying and you know it!”

Tristan flinched. “We
talked.”

“Why is that your job?
She has a fucking b
oyfriend. He could have gone after
her!”

“He doesn’t know his
way around here. She’d been drinking. I just reacted.”

“Because it’s
Sheilagh. For six years she’s been a thorn in our side and I’m fucking sick of
it. Her feelings for you are childish and stup
id, yet
you antagonize her and provoke them.”

“I just worry about
her!” he shouted, again coming to Sheilagh’s defense.

Luke’s eyes narrowed.
In a viciously low voice, he asked, “And when do you worry about me?”

Tristan scoffed. “I
worry about you all the
fucking time!” How could he
even imply he didn’t worry? “You have some nerve. How about you, Luke? Twice
today Finn came to my defense while you just sat there with your thumb up your
ass.”

“If I get involved
people will suspect things.”

Tristan threw his
keys. “Stop using that as an excuse! I’m not asking you to
blow me in public! I’m asking you to take my side, be a fucking friend! I
deserve it, God damn it!”

“And what do I
deserve, Tristan? I sat there looking like a fucking bitch while you ran off
after
my sister like she’s the most important thing
in your life.”

“This has nothing to
do with Sheilagh.”

“It has
everything
to do with Sheilagh!”
Luke roared.

“Why? Because she
knows about us? Who cares?”

Luke was breathing
heavily. In a nearly silent voice,
he said, “Because
if you said the word she’d betray me.”

Tristan paused, maybe
a second too long. “No, she wouldn’t.”

Luke met his stare and
Tristan felt like he could see all his secrets. Guilt had him shifting
uncomfortably.

“What happened
tonight?”

“No
thing.”

“
Don’t
fucking lie to me!”
His shoulders jerked back as Luke’s voice rattled the
rafters.

“Fine! I followed her
to the mountain and we talked. She was really upset. I told her she had to stop
hoping I’d change. Sheilagh didn’t do anything wrong.”

T
he room was silent for a moment. “Did you?”

Tristan twisted and
forked his fingers through his hair. He gave Luke a pleading look. “Don’t do
this, Luke. Don’t make this about her. We have enough problems of our own
without bringing her into it.”

“Did. You.
Do. Something. Wrong?”

He sighed. If he
didn’t come clean Luke would never let it go. In a sad voice he confessed, “You
make it so hard, Luke. I just want to love you, but sometimes you make it
impossible, because me loving you only adds to the things you
hate about yourself. I’ve put up with it for six long
years, and it hasn’t gotten better. I know you could leave me at any minute and
go find a normal life. I don’t have that option. And…sometimes I wish I did.
For both of our sakes.”

Luke’s expression wa
s tight. “You didn’t answer my question.”

Tristan shut his eyes.
“I just wanted to see if I could change.”

“What does that mean?”
His question came to his ears, hushed rage, livid enough that he didn’t need to
shout.

“I kissed her, but
it—”

“Get out.”

Tristan stilled.
“Luke—”

“I said get out!”

He couldn’t breathe.
This wasn’t happening. It would be so easy to pin the blame, but he couldn’t.
He’d done this. He’d crossed that line. He bent and picked up his keys.
Swallowing tightly he walked to the door.
Without
turning around, he said, “For the record, Sheilagh was innocent in all this.”

The door closed and
Luke roared. His hands gripped the edge of the dining room table, flipping it
on end, sending the chairs crashing to the floor. He turned
and slammed his fist into the wall, puncturing the
sheetrock.

He couldn’t breathe.
How could they have done this to him? Tristan and his own sister? He punched
the wall again and when his knuckle split, he turned and slid to the floor.

Tristan was suppose
d to be his. Forever. His head fell back with a thump. He
knocked it back again and again and again until the pain was enough to distract
from the vise choking his heart.

Glancing
dispassionately at his hand, he noted blood from his knuckle crusted his na
ils. Twisting off his ring, he lobbed it toward the
kitchen, not caring where it landed as it pinged off the oven and rattled over
the tile floor. It was all bullshit. They were never going to get married, not
in this world or this lifetime. Everything the
y ever
had suddenly seemed superficial.

His hand went to his
chest and clawed at his shirt. Why did it have to hurt so much? Staring at the
ceiling, his temples wet with runaway tears, he trembled through the pain.
Never in a million years had he thought T
ristan would
cheat on him.

Since the day Sheilagh
had discovered their secret, he had an uneasy feeling. She’d made it perfectly
clear she wanted Tristan and while Tristan continuously dismissed her efforts,
he’d never been stern enough to truly stop them.
He
could be cruel and fierce with Luke, but he coddled his sister.

He was so tired. Tired
of trying to be a man. Tired of trying to please everyone. Tired of life.
Something had to give, because this misery was eating him alive.

Luke sat on the floor
unt
il dawn, holding his phone, waiting for it to
ring, but Tristan never called. Early that morning he heard a car door slam in
the distance and thought it might be Tristan. He ran to the front door and
opened it. Disappointment immediately swamped him when n
o one was there. Then he saw Sheilagh and Alec putting bags in the BMW.

He didn’t think. He
only reacted. Slamming the barn door, Luke barreled over to the Beamer and got
right in his sister’s face as she was about to get in the car. He shoved her,
knockin
g her bag out of her out of her hand.
“What
the fuck, Sheilagh?”

The driver side door
opened, but Luke didn’t back off.

She swallowed and
looked at him, too much pride in her eyes, even if it was mixed with shame. In
a steady, but low voice she said, “I’m
sorry. I’m a
terrible person. I know.”

Luke’s nostrils
flared. If she was a guy he’d have knocked her out by now. It took every bit of
self-control he had left not to hit her.

He panted, emotion
clogging his throat. Furious and disgusted, he snapped, “When
is enough ever enough with you? I’m sick and tired of
feeling guilty over some bullshit childhood crush you have! He’s mine. Do you
fucking get that?
Mine
. We’ve been committed as much as
society allows for over five years and never has shit like this hap
pened before. I’m your fucking brother!”

Her eyes blinked
repeatedly. “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head, his
eyes narrowing. “Are you? Are you ever really sorry? When are you going to
start thinking about someone other than yourself?”

“That’s enough,” Alec
qu
ietly said and Luke turned his scowl on him.

The front door of the
big house opened and their father stepped out. “Luke? What’s going on?”

Glancing over his
shoulder at his father, he returned his glare to his sister, hissing so only
she could hear. “I’m
done with you.” With that he
marched back to the barn and slammed the door.

By Wednesday,
Tristan’s insides were tighter than a taut fiddle string. Work was torture.
Luke wouldn’t look at him. If he said his name, he turned away
like he didn’t hear him. Tristan was dying on the inside
and Luke didn’t seem to care.

On Friday, he waited
for him in the locker room where Luke usually went after collecting his check.
When Luke turned the corner Tristan stood from the bench he’d been wa
iting on and Luke stilled. After a second he went to his
locker as if Tristan were only a ghost of his past.

“Luke.” He stepped
behind him, but Luke acted like he didn’t hear him. “Luke, can we please talk?”

He shoved his gloves
into the locker and slammed
it shut. When he made to
walk away Tristan tried to clutch his arm, but Luke stepped out of his reach.
He looked hard at the opposing wall, not meeting Tristan’s eyes. “Your shits
boxed up. I’d appreciate it if you sent Ryan or Kelly over to get it.” With
that he turned and walked away.

Tristan sucked in a
breath, every speck of oxygen like a hot blade cutting through his lungs. His
chest seized, as he couldn’t breathe. Gripping the wall, he let out a moan. A
harsh sob ripped from his throat as everything
inside
of him turned to ash.

“Tristan?”

Screwing his face
tight and cursing himself, his fingers pinched the tears from his eyes and
turned. “Hey, Ry.”

Ryan’s face was
riddled with concern. “What happened?”

He drew in a tight
breath. “Nothin’.” There had n
ever been a less
convincing word to pass his lips.

Ryan came to him and
pulled him into a hug. “Hey. Breathe. It’s okay.”

His arms tightened
around him as he silently sobbed into his best friend’s shoulder. His face
dampened with tears and the heat of his
jagged
breath. “He hates me.”

“No, he doesn’t.”

But he did. Tristan
hadn’t told Ryan what happened because he’d thought they’d work through it like
everything else. That wasn’t going to happen though. Luke had packed him up
like a shameful secret in his pa
st and they were
done.

“What the fuck’s goin’
on here?”

Ryan tensed and
Tristan quickly pivoted, collecting himself and rubbing away all traces of
emotion.

“Go away, Dalton,”
Ryan snapped.

“Aw, this is a real
Kodak moment. Come see what I found, Chad. Ryan
and
Tristan sharin’ a firm embrace after a hard day workin’ in the yard.”

“Shut the fuck up,
Dalton,” Ryan snapped. “Come on, Tristan.”

He followed Ryan out
and Dalton called, “Bunch a’ fuckin’ faggots around here. Take it to the
theater you fuckin’ Mary’
s.”

“Ignore them,” Ryan
said as they left the hanger.

Tristan had barely
heard what Dalton had said, but he was sure it was something offensive.

The following week
Ryan had gone to collect his belongings from Luke. Six years accumulated a lot
of shit. Ryan
carried the last box into Tristan’s
room and hung by the door. Tristan was useless. He’d stayed in his room staring
blindly at the television for six days straight.

“You okay?” Ryan
asked.

“Sure,” Tristan said
unconvincingly.

“Why don’t we go out,
grab a
beer?”

“How did he seem?” He
wasn’t going anywhere.

Ryan sighed. “Not
good. He wouldn’t talk about it. Maybe you guys just need some time.”

Yeah. Time.

The following week
Ryan dragged him out of the house. They walked into O’Malley’s and Tristan
froze the
second he saw Luke sitting across from some
willowy creature, smiling and handing her a drink.

Tristan pivoted and
left. Ryan came out after him. “Tristan, wait! We can go somewhere else.”

Fuck. It hurt! It
fucking hurt so bad. He slammed his palms into
his
truck and breathed through the pain. He couldn’t do this. “I gotta get out of
here.”

“Where are you going?”

“I don’t know,”
Tristan answered, holding it together by a thread. “Away.”

He drove and wound up
somewhere in Wells County sitting at some hole
in the
wall dive. That night he checked into a motel and proceeded to drink the next
ten days away, only seeing daylight when he ran out of beer and ventured to
find more.

He would never survive
living in Center County if Luke moved on. On day eleven he’d
contemplated killing himself. Without Luke, who would miss
him?

He sat in the dingy
motel room and dialed his phone. He was grasping, but someone had to help him.

“Hello?”

“Mom?”

The line was quiet.
“Tristan?”

God, he hadn’t heard
her voice in so long he’d
forgotten what it sounded
like. “Yeah.”

“Why are you calling?
Is something wrong?”

Everything. One would
think after not hearing her child’s voice for ten years she’d sound a little
more relieved. Instead she sounded suspicious. “I just wanted to say hi.”

“Val, who’s on the
phone?”

His blood ran could as
he heard his father’s deep voice.

“It’s Tristan.”

“Why’s he calling?”

The phone muffled like
her fingers were covering the receiver, but he still heard them. “I don’t know.
I’ll be off in a second.”

A sec
ond, that’s all the time they had for him? He dropped the
phone at his side and went to the bathroom. He had no one.

When he returned to
Center County he went with the mindset that he wouldn’t be staying long. His
first day back to work landed him in Frank
’s office.

“Where you been, son?”

“I had some things I
needed to take care of.”

Frank’s gaze studied
him. “You back to work?”

Tristan nodded. “I’m
not sure how long I’ll be hanging around, but I’d like to keep my job until I
figure out what’s next.”

“You k
now you always have a job here, Tristan. You’re family.” No
he wasn’t, but it was kind of him to say.

He didn’t see Luke
that day or the next. He was stuck on a shift with Dalton, Chad, and Finn over
at the 75
^th
Acre. Finn pulled him aside at lunch.
“Trist
an, you all right?”

There was no point
lying. Finn knew who he was. “I’ve been better.”

His gaze scrutinized
him. Finn was not someone who spoke without first considering his words. “A lot
of that’s been going around.”

He was silent for a
while. He took a
few bites of his sandwich and
quietly asked without looking beyond his meal, “How is he?”

Finn sighed. “Not
good, but he’s trying to convince us all otherwise.”

“He’ll get better.
Just give him time.”

Dalton came over to
the truck and tossed down his
battered lunch box.
“You two pussies havin’ a heart to heart or are us other guys allowed to join?”

Finn rolled his eyes,
bunched up his trash and turned away. “Breaks over in twenty.”

Luke tossed on some
deodorant and slid on a shirt. Grabbing h
is gym bag,
he headed to his truck. His stomach was unsettled since last night, but this
was all part of the healing process he supposed. Thank God he had the gym. It
was the only thing that kept him going.

He pulled up at Lisa’s
house twenty minutes later
and waited in the truck
for something inside of him to tell him he was ready. After about five minutes
he forced himself out and rang the bell.

The door opened and
Lisa smiled. “Hey, handsome. Perfect timing. Dinner’s on the table.”

Luke’s mouth curved in
to something he hoped resembled a grin as he followed her
to the kitchen. She’d made mashed potatoes—the buttery kind Tristan liked—and
steak. Over dinner they chatted and she asked him about working as a logger.

Once the meal was
finished, they settled on
to the couch to watch a
movie. Luke had already seen the film when it came out last fall. Both he and
Tristan thought the plot was predictable and the actors were below par.

Halfway through the
movie, Lisa shifted and rested her head on his shoulder. Her h
air smelled too flowery and her earring poked through his
shirt. She sighed and snuggled closer.

As though he was a
puppeteer pulling a string, he consciously commanded his arm to raise and pull
her close. She turned and smiled at him, pressing a kiss on h
is neck.

A while later her hand
found its way to his thigh and rubbed through his jeans. Her nails were painted
and it looked strange seeing such dainty fingers against the denim covering his
knee.

When the movie was
over neither of them seemed to want to
move. The
credits rolled and the room dimmed. Lisa slowly sat up and climbed to his lap.
Her narrow arms wreathed his neck as she straddled his thighs. Her mouth found
his and her lip-gloss irritated his lips.

After a while, she
took his hand and guided it
under her shirt. It had
been years since he’d felt a woman’s breasts. He’d practically forgotten what
to do with them. She sat up and removed her shirt. When her fingers unclasped
her bra and dropped it to the floor, he did as she expected and leaned forw
ard, capturing the tiny nipple in his mouth. He sucked, but
it all seemed pointless. Her hips rocked and he got no pleasure from the whole
act.

A few minutes later
she whispered in his ear, “Come on. Let’s go to my room.”

He followed her like a
zombie and
watched blindly as she stripped down to
nothing. He stood compliantly as she removed his shirt and unbuttoned his
jeans. He stepped out of his clothes and she placed a condom in his hand.

He stared at the tiny
square of foil and blinked, struggling to reca
ll the
last time he’d worn one. With Tristan. In the beginning.

She led him to the bed
and did stuff to him. He shut his eyes in order to fight back the repulsion of
foreign hands climbing over his skin. He was barely hard and knew if he slipped
the condom
on at this point he’d lose his erection
completely. “Can you get me a glass of water?” he asked.

She stilled. “Sure.”

When she slid into her
robe and left he curled onto his side. His eyes pinched shut as he gripped the
pillow, breathing through the tears that threatened to come. He couldn’t do it.
He couldn’t replace the most meaningful person in his life with a collecti
on of meaningless encounters. But more importantly, he
couldn’t pretend he wasn’t changed. This was no longer him and the reality of
who he was seemed inescapable.

When she returned he
was pulling on his pants.

“What’s wrong?”

He approached her as
he slid
on his shirt. “I just got out of a
relationship and this is going a little too fast for me.”

Her soft features
turned hard. “Don’t you lie to me, Luke McCullough. You’ve been single for
years.” She put the glass of water on the bureau with a click and tig
htened her robe. He gathered his boots and left.

When he got home that
night he went straight to bed. His face pressed into the pillows and he moaned
through the pain flaying him wide. He’d thought if he could sleep with a woman
he’d remember how great it
used to be, but he
couldn’t even manage that.

Everything reminded
him of Tristan. It didn’t matter that his personal effects were gone. His stamp
was on everything he owned, down to the color of his walls, the angle of his
kitchen tile, and the shadow of h
is soul. No matter
where he turned there was no escaping the phantom of his past. The reality was
there. Tristan owned his heart.