“No, you fucking didn’t,” Niko snapped, and his tone was so harsh that August’s mouth clicked closed. “You said he was beating you with a whip, which I’m pretty sure counts as a form of torture. Your brain was probably shut down and in no condition to follow through with a rational thought. Your fatherdied because he was an awful person who was stupid enough to give himself a heart attack. End of story.”
August tried to sit up, but Niko braced an arm against his chest until he went limp again.
“I think you need to talk to a professional. Tonight.”
Icy panic gripped August’s heart, threatening to tear it from his chest. “No!”
“August—”
“I’ll talk to you.” August blurted the words out too quickly, and he bit his tongue. The sharp sting was followed by the taste of blood flooding his mouth for the second time that night. “Please, I’ll be scratched if anyone finds out about this. I can’t lose hockey. It’s all I have left.”
August knew how pitiful he sounded, but every ounce of his pride had flown out the window the moment he had puked in his tub while sobbing like a baby.
The darkness covering his eyes lifted, and August blinked them open, meeting Niko’s terrified green orbs.
Green.Fuck.
“Then talk to me,” said Niko. “But then we’re going to the hospital to get your hand checked, and you have topromiseme that you’ll make a therapy appointment by the end of the month. I know you hate the idea, but I’m so fucking scared for you right now that I feel sick to my stomach. This isn’t a small issue, Gusty. This is some PTSD shit that neither of us is equipped to handle.”
The end of the month sounded doable, and if it kept the team therapist away until he had time to rebuild his defences, then he would take it.
The problem was…he didn’t know where to start.
Niko caught on to his struggle, and being the most amazing friend that he was, he asked August a question to get the conversation started.
“You slept with a guy?”
Quinn.
That was as good a place to begin as any.
August inhaled slowly, and then he told Niko his story, starting in high school when he was in love with hisboyfriend.
Saying it brought him close to another panic attack, but he kept his shit together and told Niko what he knew. Most memories were still spotty, but he did the best he could, finding it easier to remember more the longer he talked. It was like a scroll was unravelling in his mind, revealing a secret that had been locked away, almost forgotten.
They had an earlypractice the next day, but Niko never told him to stop, and he didn’t rush him. Other than asking a question now and then, he didn’t say anything to avoid interrupting August’s thoughts.
It was confusing, but August felt lighter with every admission and every fear he spoke into reality. He was so fucked up that he wasn’t sure if his story had any truth to it by the end, and that fact had him shaking with anger toward himself.
“I think I’m…bisexual,” August said shakily. “But I don’t know for sure—how do I know it’s all real?”
Niko was wearing an unreadable expression, and he had gone so quiet that August was worried that he offended him in some way.
“It has to be real,” said Niko, his voice dipping into a tone that soundeddangerous. “Because now I know the story of how you got those scars on your back.”
Scars? He had scars?
Niko jumped to his feet and held his hand out for August to take, giving him no explanation.
Frowning, August accepted the help and began the difficult task of getting to his knees before he finally pushed onto wobbly legs. He didn’t understand what was happening as Niko helped him hobble over to the sink, making sure he was leaning on the counter before sprinting from the room.
Left alone with his reflection, August glared at the wretched state he was in. He couldn’t stop himself from placing a hand to his face, as if feeling his skin under his bloody fingers would somehow make him believe he was a real person.
He didn’t have enough time to ponder the horrifying thought because Niko came back into the bathroom with the large mirror from the guest room held in his hands.
“Take your shirt off,” Niko ordered.
August did as he was told, ripping his shirt open so he didn’t have to bother with the rest of the buttons. Tiny clinking sounds filled the room, anchoring August to what he was doing, but his movements still didn’tfeellike his own.
