Forsaking Truth (3 page)

“Your cousin
said you were gonna play for the NFL.”
Nothing
like avoiding the question.

Luke’s lips sealed
tight. “
Was
being the key word.”

“So how about I don’t
ask you about that and you don’t ask about Texas?”

He liked this guy.
“Sounds good to me.”

He turned down
his aunt’s street and Tristan asked, “Am I gonna need
anything for work on Monday? Ryan ain’t starting for a few weeks, but I need
the money. I don’t much like being a free loader and I’d rather be workin’ than
sittin’.”

“Good pair a boots,
jeans that don
’t got holes, set of leather gloves,
and a mindset to work your balls off will get you started on the right foot.”

“Then all I need is
some new jeans. Where can I grab a pair around here?”

“You got a car?”

“A truck, but it’s
busted. I’m working on it.”

“Te
ll you what, I need some shit for some work I’m doing at my
place. I’m headin’ to Wells Borough tomorrow. They’re some good places that
sell good brands. If you want, you can go with me.”

“All right.”

“I’m leaving around
seven, so be ready by seven
fifteen.”

“Sounds good.” Tristan
opened the door to his truck and hopped out. The ring—he saw once the interior
light kicked on—had an upside down Y on it, sort of like a Greek letter. Maybe
it was from a college fraternity. “See you tomorrow, Luke.”

His g
aze ripped from Tristan’s hands. They were strong hands and
he’d be a good worker judging by the way they were calloused and slightly
battered. When he met the other man’s stare something tightened in his chest,
sort of like the poignant and visceral adren
aline
jolt one gets when they barely missed getting in a car accident. “See ya.”

The door closed and he
pulled away, unsure why he kept having anxious jolts in his chest. He hadn’t
felt anything like that since he’d last ran down the field at the snap of
the ball.

Tristan slipped out
the front door and slid a smoke out of his crumpled pack, pissed he’d started
up again. The house was still quiet, being everyone didn’t get in until after
two. He’d woken up to the sound of Ryan puking in the toilet
and fumbling down the hall.

His lips closed over
the end of his cigarette and he drew in a long pull of smoke as he waited for
Luke’s truck to show. Luke.

Fuck, the guy was a
masterpiece. If he’d really blown out his leg like everyone said, there was no
telling by looking at him. He was like a fine piece of
chiseled flesh. Not gay though. Definitely not gay.

That was for the best.

College had bought him
some time. He’d managed to escape his past and be himself in an
ask
don’t tell
sort of sense for a fe
w peaceful years. Tristan had
known all along he couldn’t go back home once he graduated.

Although his mother
had sent him off with tears and hugs, his father banished him with a look of
disdain, the same evil glare he’d given him that day in high school
he’d caught Tristan with his hands in Jason’s pants, right
before...

His mind went back to
that week and the weeks that followed, suffering the memory in order to remind
himself this was a new beginning and he’d be wise to play it safe. Nothing had
ever be
en more gut wrenching than those moments of
his past, nothing more fundamental to his knowledge of human behavior.

His father had beaten him so badly he’d
lost consciousness. When he woke up Jason was gone and Tristan’s body was black
and blue, some part
s of his skin split open from the
latch of his dad’s belt.

It took five days for him to leave the
house and return to school. The most excruciating part of waiting for his body
to heal was waiting for Jason to answer his calls.

The following week when he
resumed school he was in no way prepared for the fall out
of his father’s rage. Sporting a shiner that wouldn’t quit, he waited for Jason
at his locker like he’d done every day in the months leading up to that moment.
He still remembered the fear that his
father might
have hit Jason too.

His relief was a living thing as he
caught sight of Jay turning the corner with Tim and Kyle flanking him. All
looked on the up and up from the outside. He’d caught the relief in Jay’s eyes
only a second before his expressi
on shuttered and
hardened with a scowl.

He waited for his lover to approach,
hating that after the longest week of his life he couldn’t take him into his
arms then and there. Kyle whispered something as they neared and Tim snickered.

“What are you doing he
re, faggot?” Jason said and every pumping, functioning,
twitching part of Tristan’s body ceased moving.

“What?”

“You heard me,” his lover said snidely.
“We heard what you did and we don’t want you hanging around no more.”

“Checkin’ us out and shit,” Tim ta
cked on.

Tristan stepped back. “What the hell are
you talking about?”

“Everyone knows it. Your dad caught you
whacking off to guy-on-guy porn and beat your sorry faggot ass.”

He blinked, because words weren’t making
sense. Not the ones meeting his ears or
the ones
ricocheting in his head. “Jason—”

“Dude, he looks ready to cry,” Kyle
said, making a sound of disgust. “Fucking pansy.”

Tristan ignored him and drilled his gaze
into Jason’s. His mind pleading and his eyes begging him to stop. They could
figure it
out later, but stop this shit right now. It
was only making it worse.

“If I didn’t feel sorry for your pussy
ass I’d kick it right now, but it looks like your dad did a fair job,” Jason
said and something inside of Tristan broke, snapping loudly and vibra
ting his soul. He couldn’t breathe. “Now get out of here.”

He was going to puke. Why was Jason
doing this? They loved each other. They’d been through all the firsts together.
They were best friends. Fuck. The pain only got worse with every breath.

He turne
d like
a zombie and slowly took the first lurching step away.

“Cocksucker,” Jason mumbled and
something inside of him exploded.

Tristan twisted on his heel. His arm
whipped out so fast there was no time to pull it back. Jason’s sweet face
connected with h
is fist and they were suddenly on the
ground surrounded by a swarm of shouting students.

His ribs screamed as Jay’s fist pounded
into his side. He tasted blood and was pretty sure he’d be pissing it soon. A
whistle blew and he was yanked off his back and
tossed
roughly to the lockers. Coach Brown scowled at the group of them.

“What the heck is going on? Tristan, get
to Principal McLeay’s office. Now! Jason, get to the nurse and then report to
the office. Everyone else, get to class!”

The rancid taste of f
ilter filled his mouth and Tristan tossed his butt in the
street. Those days were long over. He’d heard Jason was married to a woman now
and on his second kid. He wondered if his old lover was happy, being someone he
wasn’t. He wanted not to care, wanted t
o hate him for
breaking his heart, but he did care and couldn’t hate him no matter how he
tried.

He never spoke to Jay
after that and their year together was something his first lover would likely
take to the grave. His father had been in too deep a rage t
o recall who the other kid was when he’d caught them.
Tristan could have told, could have ruined Jason like Jason ruined him, but
that was the thing with love. It made people incredibly selfless, most times
when they shouldn’t be, and Tristan protected Jas
on
the way he believed one should always protect those they loved.

College had been
amazing. He’d fucked around with other guys and gotten Jason out of his system.
There had been a few encounters with the wrong friends, but on a campus the
size of theirs,
there were plenty of others.

He’d met Ryan
sophomore year, but it wasn’t until they roomed together that his friend asked
if he was gay. Tristan’s stomach had knotted like it always did when confronted
with that question and clueless how the other person
would
react. He’d debated lying, but something in Ryan’s eyes gave him the confidence
to come clean.

“Yeah. That a problem?”

Ryan shrugged as though he expected as
much. Was he that transparent? Most women thought he was hetero. “So long as
you know I’m
straight, we’re good.”

He gave him a smug grin. “Ry, even if
you were gay, you ain’t my type. No offense.”

His roommate laughed. “None taken.”

After that things went
on as they always had. Ryan was a good friend and an even better surrogate
brother. He’d
become the family Tristan never had.

His scalp prickled and
he turned just as Luke’s truck pulled up at the curb. Excitement tunneled
through him. He didn’t know why he was so anxious to go shopping with the other
guy, but he was. His body seemed to have i
ts own
personal high-speed reaction to the guy’s presence, gay or not.

Taking even, measured
steps to the curb, he rounded the truck. Pulling open the door he hopped in.
Luke’s intoxicating scent he recalled from the night before hit him like a ton
of bric
ks. The trace of soap complimented his natural
musk like nectar compliments the anther of a flower.

“Hey,” he greeted,
sliding onto the leather seat.

Luke nodded. “Hey. I
grabbed you a coffee. Didn’t know how you took it, so all the shit’s there.”

Trista
n glanced at the center console. Two cups and a bunch of
condiments sat in one of those coffee caddy things. “Thanks. How much do I owe
you?”

Luke’s eyes focused on
the windshield as he pulled away. “Don’t worry about it. Next cup’s on you.”

When they reac
hed the stores Luke disappeared toward the hardware shop
and Tristan went for a stroll in the Working Gear. Shit was fucking expensive.
He’d have to take a trip back after his first paycheck because at the moment he
could only afford two pairs of jeans and
the
necessities. His boots were taped at the toe and they’d have to hold a while
longer. He wondered how much he’d be making at the yard and was pissed he
didn’t have the sense to ask when Ryan’s dad had offered him the job.

Didn’t matter. A job
was a job and this was the only one on the table at the moment.

He found Luke in the
hardware store looking at samples of tile. Tristan knew a thing or two about
putting down tile. He’d done a job in high school when he’d worked for H
abitat. The program teacher was a jack of all trades and
taught him quite a bit about construction.

“You tiling
something’?”

Luke turned, the bulk
of his body rippling under his shirt as he faced him. “Yeah. I’d like to. I’m
trying to figure out how much o
f a pain in the ass
it’ll be and if I’d be better off with laminate.”

“Nah, you don’t want
laminate. Tiling’s not too hard. You got a cutter?”

“I can rent one here
for fifty bucks a day, but I’m not sure if I’m ready for all that. Never used a
wet saw befo
re.”

“It’s cake. I can show
you.”

“Really? You know
how?”

“Sure. Show me what
grout you’re thinking about.”

Luke debated over two
samples and ended up going with an earthy design and darker grout. They rented
the cutter and were on their way back to his pl
ace an
hour later.

“You hungry?” Luke
asked as they drove through town.