Page 111 of Top Shelf

“Did you ever tell anyone?” I ask, voice quiet. It’s a rich question coming from me, but given his outburst today, I’m curious.

He shakes his head, jaw tight. “No one would have believed me. I was the angry screw-up, the kid always in detention, the one who couldn’t go a day without throwing a punch. Meanwhile, my cousin was the golden child. 4.0 GPA. Track star. He was going somewhere, and I was…a mistake.”

The way he says it, like it’s a fact, like he’s already accepted it as truth…it makes something in me break. I want to reach into him and carve that belief out by force. Instead, I lean in to press my forehead against his chest and rasp fiercely, “You could never be a mistake, Lucian.”

He goes quiet.

I run my fingers down his neck and over his shoulder, the motion light and soothing.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

“I didn’t want to be touched after that,” he continues after a few moments. “But I didn’t want to feel dirty either. So I started fucking around. Started…pretending as though I liked it. That I chose it. I made it a joke. A game. Like if I could laugh about it, it wouldn’t own me. If I acted like it never touched me, then maybe it didn’t.” He laughs humorlessly. “And now I don’t even know what the fuck I want anymore.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” I whisper. “None of it.”

I don’t think Lucian knows how to cry. He’s never permittedhimself to do so. But he shudders, and for Lucian, that’s practically the same thing.

We lie there, quiet and tangled. His arms locked around my waist. My fingers against his chest. Our bodies wrapped up together.

When his breath finally evens out, he leans into me like I’m the only thing keeping him from falling apart.

And I promise him silently: I’ll hold him together as long as it takes.

28

WREN

We must have dozedoff at some point, because the next thing I know, I’m waking to the buzzing of a cell phone.

“Uggghh,” Lucian groans, sounding half asleep. “Make it stop.”

“I’m pretty sure it’syourfriends who are blowing up my phone.”

“Yourboyfriends,” he retorts, eyes still closed. I pause, mid-reach for my discarded pants.

Boyfriends? Is that what they are?

Another buzz interrupts my thoughts, and I fish my phone out of my pocket, checking the screen. There’s a whole load of messages.

Ronan

Where the hell are you two?

Silas

Please tell me Lucian didn’t do somethingstupid.

Silas

We heard what went down in comms.

Ronan

We’ve checked the rink, gym, and locker rooms.

Ronan

Is he okay??