Page 1 of Furious
Chapter 1
True Lies
CHANCE
“Iwish Coach Harrison didn’t have such a hard-on for early practices on a Saturday morning.” I yawn, wishing I could have my coffee in an IV. “There isn’t enough coffee in the world this morning.”
I don’t get the sympathy I was hoping for from Lev. My best friend takes a sip from his own mug of coffee. He’s glaring at a spot in front of him on the kitchen table as if the dark wood had done something to offend him.
“I thought you were the morning person between the two of us,” I chuckle. “But I must have been wrong. Do you want more coffee?”
The words die in my mouth the second Lev lifts his gaze to look at me.
It turns out he isn’t grumpy because he’s tired. He’s pissed off. At me.
“What?” I ask, but maybe I should have kept my mouth shut.
The only reaction my question has is to make a muscle on Lev’s jaw pop. I’ve rarely seen him so angry.
“We wouldn’t be so tired,” he bites out. “If we hadn’t spent last night racing motorcycles right outside campus.”
“Ah, that’s why you’re acting like someone just pissed in your cereal.” I confront him. “What were we supposed to do? We’re freshmen and if we want to bond with our teammates, we need to pledge Gamma Delta Tau. Is it my fault if our president chose a motorcycle race as our initiation task?”
Lev shakes his head. “Last night isn’t even the biggest problem. Do I have to be the one to point out the elephant in the room?”
It’s a rhetorical question, because he doesn’t wait for my answer before continuing.
“We walked right into a trap. When I first saw those bikes hidden in that abandoned hangar, I didn’t know what to think. I wondered why our frat president had risked bringing motorcycles within city limits. I know that Gamma initiation tasks tend to be questionable. So we can share a secret with our brothers and that should guarantee our undying loyalty. But there’s a difference between questionable and downright illegal.”
I can’t help but chuckle at Lev’s choice of words. “Spoken like the true son of two lawyers.”
I pipe down at Lev’s withering glare.
“What I don’t fucking get,” he says with a vehemence that’s completely out of character. “Is how can you be so fucking cavalier about the shit storm we just got into? Calvin Fox has always been bad news. No one missed him after… Bridgeport.”
Fuck. Just the mention of that day makes me want to punch something. My fingers clutch my coffee mug with such force that I’m surprised it doesn’t shatter in my hands.
Lev knows we don’t talk about that day in this house. It’s been like that since we came back from Bridgeport without Atlas.
That’s why what he says next shocks me to my core.
“He had no choice but to retire from racing. He wasn’t the one who hit Atlas’s bike, but after he kept racing while another rider was down and the race had been officially suspended? No team would touch him with a ten-foot pole. No matter how hard he tried.”
It’s my turn to glare at my best friend. “Shut the fuck up, Lev. Stop talking about it.”
“No.” He slams his empty mug on the table. If he leaves a mark, Kelly will be furious. “We’re going to talk about it. We need to. I know you, Scott, and Ares have decided that Atlas’s name shouldn’t be spoken in this house. But it’s unhealthy, if you ask me.”
Lev and I have had our differences over the years. We’ve been best friends since I can remember, and we’ve always fought like brothers. But we’ve never come to blows. Today could be the day, though, if he doesn’t shut up. “Lev, I’m fucking warning you.”
He raises his voice. “No. You need to fucking listen to me. I don’t care if it’s uncomfortable and I don’t care if it hurts. I lost someone too that day. I know we aren’t blood, but you, Ares and Atlas, have always been brothers to me. I miss him too.”
I know he does. It still doesn’t change the fact that just hearing his name brings that pain back to the surface.
The only way Dad, Ares and I have been able to keep breathing, has been by shoving the pain and the loss as deep down as possible. Every time someone mentions what we lost, though, that pain comes back to the surface. It’s raw and dark and, unless we shove it back into a tight sealed compartment, it’ll swallow us whole.
“Different people grieve differently.” My tone is now pleading. “You have to respect the way we chose to grieve.”
He grabs my forearm, forcing me to meet his gaze. “If you keep burying it where you can’t reach it, it’ll never fade away.You can’t run away from pain and loss, Chance. Because no matter how deep down you shove it, it’ll always be there. Waiting for you. You can’t outrun pain.”
