Colton shook his hands out instead of drying them, then ran his damp fingers through his hair, taming the unruly blond locks. He continued to ramble on as he headed out of the restroom with Chris following behind, but not before grabbing a flyer, folding it, and tucking it into his back pocket. For Michael, he thought. But, if he were honest, Colton’s mention of good money definitely had his interest piqued.
Chapter Three
Coming Clean
In the weeks that followed their initial meeting at the club, Colton became a permanent fixture in Chris’s life. He loved the guy’s fearless attitude, and his personality was infectious. He was always happy and energetic; he reminded Chris a lot of the bunny rabbit that beat the drum on those commercials. Michael and Max immediately warmed to him as well, and having Colton around to hang out with and join the three of them for dinner and movies made Chris feel less like that third wheel.
Plans were made one Saturday afternoon to see the movie Kingsman and to maybe introduce Michael and Max to Club Berlin, but it was an unseasonably nice day, so Chris decided to grill instead. Max went down to the bodega on the corner for beer and sodas while Chris prepped the burgers and Michael sliced the veggies. When Colton arrived, he helped them carry the food and extras upstairs to the rooftop patio. “Wow, it’s gorgeous outside today, and the garden is starting to bloom.” Michael smiled and ran his fingers through the flowers, pulling off a couple of brown leaves.
The rooftop garden wasn’t very spacious, just an open area that held a large picnic table with benches, a couple of patio chairs, and a grill. Along the perimeter of the building, adjacent to the wall, was an L-shaped area with wooden boxes for plants and herbs, and several large pots that held rosebushes Michael had planted the previous year. He’d just fired up the grill when Max joined them, dragging the wheeled cooler full of beer and water behind him. Chris turned when Max hollered his name and caught the can of Budweiser that sailed toward his head.
Chris stoked the fire, chuckling as he listened to Michael tell Colton about a coworker of his that he wanted to set Colton up on a blind date with. Other than that, he wasn’t paying any attention to what was taking place behind him. He set the uncooked patties on the grill along with some corn and veggies wrapped in foil, closing the lid just as he was bathed in ice-cold water.
Chris jumped and yelped at the same time. “Fucking son of a bitch!” He whirled around to three smiling faces: Max stood mere feet away, holding an empty bucket and wearing a shit-eating grin. Michael pursed his lips to stop from laughing, while Colton was cackling so hard, he almost fell off his bench. Chris jerked the wet shirt over his head, balling it up and chucking it at his best friend. Michael caught it in the air before it could make contact with his face, dropping the wet shirt on the ground. “If you three hoodlums don’t mind, I am trying to cook our dinner here.” Thankfully he was standing beside a small fire, otherwise he’d likely be shivering since there was ice in his pants.
Peace washed over him. Surrounded by friends that were laughing and joking, Chris felt whole and alive for the first time in so long, he couldn’t even remember. Then Colton shrieked, bursting the calm bubble, the sound reinforcing all Chris’s negative thoughts about himself. “Oh my God, Chris, what the hell happened to you?”
He didn’t have to wonder or think about Colton’s question. Oh no, he already knew. His friend—would he even be able to call him that once he learned the truth? Colton had seen the irrefutable evidence of the worst decision Chris had ever made.
“Fuck, Chris, I’m sorry, I didn’t think…” Max was rambling apologies, but Chris waved him off.
“S’okay, Max. Colton was going to find out eventually. Let me just get these burgers plated, and I’ll tell you the story behind the scars, Col.” Chris’s voice was calm despite the warning bells gonging inside his head. This was it—time to tell Colton about the accident and Amanda and see if he ran away like everyone else.
He could feel Colton’s eyes on him as if they were fingers, gently grazing the ink and scars. Instinct had him almost reaching for the cold, wet shirt to cover the permanent reminder of the life he’d so carelessly taken. Instead, he took his time flipping the burgers, knowing full well Colton was taking stock of every square inch of his bare skin. There was a large raven taking flight that stretched from shoulder to shoulder, wing tips drawn in indigo and violet, and a cross that was etched horizontally on his lower back, at the base of his spine, with intricate detailing in an attempt to hide the mottled skin that lay beneath the design. It was the area of his body that carried the brunt of the damage from the accident—the physical destruction, anyway. The mental and emotional scarring was far worse, but that was his burden to bear.
He met Colton’s eyes when he turned, but just briefly—the young man averted his gaze, staring down at the bottle in his hand. Chris set the burgers in the middle of the table, sliding onto the bench seat beside Colton. Patting his friend on the knee, Chris smiled at him when he looked up, nodding at the burgers as he handed Colton a paper plate.
“So, you know that Michael and I grew up together and that I was supposed to go to Bama on a football scholarship, but that fell through and Michael convinced me to move here to New York with him.” Chris had shared some of that time in his life with Colton—the accident and subsequent injuries that ended his dream of playing football—but he’d left out quite a bit of detail. “Well, what I haven’t told you, what I never tell anyone, is what happened the night of the accident.”
“Chris, you don’t have to…” Colton started, but Chris quickly cut him off.
“Yes, Col, I do. You should know the truth about what happened that night, about…” Chris ducked his head, staring at the paint chipping off the table. “…who I really am.” He’d never been one to pull his punches. Best to rip the Band-Aid off quickly—less blood that way. Lifting his head, Chris looked into Colton’s eyes, needing to see the man’s reaction to what he was about to tell him. “I wasn’t the only person in the truck that night. My girlfriend, Amanda…she…died…” Colton gasped, his hand covering his mouth. The shock and revulsion Chris expected to see in Colton’s stare wasn’t there, though, and he was taken aback.
After a few intense moments of awkward silence, Colton reached for his hand. “Tell me everything, Chris. All of it, and let me decide for myself what to think afterward. I feel like people who aren’t in your life that should be, parents and siblings, maybe judged you too harshly, and that’s what you expect from everyone now. Short of you committing murder, Chris, I’m still your friend.” Just the word, “murder,” made Chris jittery. But he’d gotten good at masking his pain from the world around him.
Chris stared at his plate, playing with his untouched burger as he revisited the past he still worked hard to overcome. He told Colton everything from how he and Amanda met, fell in love, and made plans for a life together after high school—every major event in their lives that led up to the night of the party. How Michael tried to convince him not to drive, but he did just to prove that he was invincible. How he wasn’t even allowed time to grieve Amanda’s death before he had to stand in front of a judge and a jury and plead his case. His downward spiral into booze, drugs, and depression before Michael picked him up, slapped some sense into him, then dusted his ass off and dragged him to New York to start a new life.