Page 68 of The Art of Drowning

No.

No, no, no, no, no.

This was bad. Disaster level bad. Tsunami without the warning level bad.

Damien climbed off the bed and put himself between me and Sam, with his hands up in surrender.

“I can explain,” he started, but Sam just glared at him, then looked through him like he didn’t even exist to focus on me.

“I don’t care that you’re gay. I care that you’re a friend-stealing sack of shit. Damien is my friend. My best friend. And you couldn’t let me even have that, could you? What else are you going to take from me?”

“I—what?” Color me confused. “I didn’t take anything from you. Damien is still your friend.”

Sam scoffed and I looked at him, really looked at him, and I realized with startling clarity that Sam hated me. I didn’t know if it was a new emotion or something that had been building for a while now, but I could feel it like it was another presence in the room. Just the three of us and Sam’s bad attitude along for the ride.

“Don’t you dare even speak his name,” Sam ground out. “After what the two of you did. Going behind my back like this.”

“We wanted to tell you,” Damien said, and Sam’s head whipped around to face him so fast that I thought Sam looked possessed or something. I’d never seen him this angry before. This hurt.

“There shouldn’t be anything to tell.” Venom dripped from every word. “There shouldn’t be anything going on between you. I bet you thought you were so smart, too smart to get caught. But the two of you are fucking obvious. Fucking sick. I mean, Damien’s practically your brother.” Sam’s face turned into a snarl.

“Damien might be a brother to you, but he’s never been that for me.”

“And you’ve never been that for me,” Sam fired back. “You’re just this fucking fake. Did you know that? This fake-ass brother. This fucking betrayer. A fucking thief and a liar.”

Sam’s words shouldn’t have hurt as much as they did, but he knew where to strike for maximum impact.

“Sam,” Damien tried to speak, but Sam lashed out at him, shoving him hard in the chest with both hands.

“Get out of my house. Get out.” He shoved him again, then grabbed his arm and started trying to force him from the room. “Get out!”

“Sam, calm down.” I started to rise up out of bed, and then he was there, pushing me back down.

“Don’t tell me to calm down.” The look in his eyes was wild and full of hatred. He stepped around Damien and closed in on me. His eyes narrowed into slits and he stared at me like he’d never seen anything more offensive in his life. “You. Ruined. Everything.”

He wasn’t shouting. I thought there would have been more shouting, but Sam was ice cold. He looked at me like I was a stranger. No. An enemy.

Sam’s hostility had been something I felt brewing in the background for a while now. At first, I’d tried to talk to him about it, but then I decided whatever. It didn’t matter. He was just a moody little bitch. But maybe it went beyond that.

“He’s my friend, Callum.”

The rage poured off Sam in waves, and I knew there was no reasoning with him.

“How could you? My own brother.”

The shock of being discovered was quickly wearing off, and the longer Sam scowled at me the more I wanted to punch him in the face. Would it help? Absolutely not. Would it be satisfying? Probably.

“You say that word like you think it means anything. You haven’t wanted shit to do with me in a couple years, Sam. So why should I care about that now?”

Sam turned. “Damien, you need to leave.”

“Only if Callum tells me to go.” Damien tilted his chin up in defiance, though I could see the heartbreak etched into his face. This wasn’t what he wanted to have happen. If Damien pushed back too much, there would be no salvaging their friendship.

“We can talk later, Damien. You should go.” I hated that I couldn’t cross the room and go to him. That I couldn’t kiss him goodbye or even look at him too long.

Sam’s gaze was still sharp as a knife and pointed at me. I didn’t care if Sam never forgave me, but I hated the fact that I’d ruined their friendship. When Damien didn’t move, I tried again.

“Let me try to fix this,” I said, staring at him, hoping he understood what I couldn’t say in front of Sam, who still vibrated with rage. He was one step away from exploding.