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“Because…” The word came out as a croak, and he took another sip of water. “Because I’ve never forgotten what I did.” He put the glass down, then wrung his hands. “I’ve tried to be a better person, but the guilt just never goes away. It’s always there, gnawing at me.”
“‘Guilt’?”
Butch gaped at him. “Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about. It’s my fault Scott Nelson died. You were there, for Christ’s sake.I’mthe reason he never made it past seventeen-years-old.”
Sol could’ve been cast in marble, he was so still.
“You don’t know that,” he said in a quiet, flat voice.
Butch snorted. “Oh yes I do. I pushed him too far, and that was why he killed himself. And I’ve lived with it ever since. Even his mom knew it was my fault.”
Sol stared at him. “Shetoldyou that?” Butch nodded, his heart heavy with misery. “When?”
Butch couldn’t look him in the eye.
“The morning after he hanged himself.”
Chapter 43
May 6, 1988
“Sweetheart, are you okay?”
It took a moment for his mom’s voice to register. Butch glanced up from the milk and cookies he hadn’t even touched. “’M fine.”
Her brows knitted. “You don’t look fine. You’ve hardly said a word since you got home from school. Did something happen today?”
It was more a case of whathadn’thappened, but he couldn’t tell her that, not unless he wanted to be on the receiving end of a barrage of questions.
Scott Nelson hadn’t been in his English class, and as soon as Butch noticed his absence, his stomach had gone into churn-mode, big time.
He couldn’t face me, not after yesterday. He probably couldn’t face anyone, if it comes to that.
That wasn’t surprising, seeing as Butch had called him a fag and a queerboy, he’d demanded to know who Scott was dating, when he was gonna start wearing lipstick and mascara, and all kinds of similar comments designed to detract attention from himself and make it clear to everyone there that Butch Buchanan was no fag.
Which was ironic as hell, seeing as the main recipient of his barbs was the person Butch had fixated on for almost a year, and was probably the least gay of the two of them. Not that Scott had a clue how Butch felt—Butch had beensocareful around him. And offense was better than defense any day, right?
Scott was good-looking to the point of almost pretty, with light brown hair he always wore kinda long, down to his shoulders, except when it was tied back in class. His eyes were hazel, framed with long lashes that made Butch’s heart skip a beat every time he caught sight of them, along with the fine, chiseled cheekbones that made him yearn to cup that sweet face in both hands, lean in, and—
Such thoughts usually resulted in a more vicious verbal attack than usual, while his stomach roiled in a mess of self-loathing.
He couldn’t be attracted to Scott Nelson.Hewasn’t gay—Scottwas. Hadn’t he caught Scott looking at him in class sometimes? Did he think Butch hadn’t noticed? Didn’t he see all the girls that flocked around Butch like moths to a flame? Butch had made sure to kiss Veronica Chapman in the cafeteria, where everyone could see—especially Scott.
He knew he’d treated Scott badly, but hey, Butch wasn’t the only one, right? There was Cal, Pete, Sol… They’d come out with just as much shit. Except he knew where he led, they followed.
“Are you going to eat those cookies or just stare at them?” Dad said as he came into the kitchen. “Your mom made your favorites—the least you can do is take a bite out of one of ’em, and tell her they taste great.” He scowled. “You should show more appreciation.”
Butch was about to protest that hedidappreciate everything Mom did, when he heard the squeal of brakes outside.
Dad shook his head. “That’ll be one of those assholes you run around with.”
“Honey, language,” Mom murmured.
Dad ignored her. “Pete Calhoun’s dad bought him a car when he turned eighteen, didn’t he? Well, don’tyougo getting any ideas—I can’t afford it. You want a car, you’re gonna have to work your ass off for it, which means doing a damn sight more on the ranch than you do right now.” Another scowl. “Why can’t you be more like your brother?”
Butch tried his best to let the tide of words flow over him. His dad had been like this ever since Butch reached his teens, and he had no clue why. Maybe it was a male thing, but Dad wasn’t the same way with Deke.
Loud hammering on the front door made him almost jump out of his skin.
