Page 47 of King of Lies (Mayhem Manuscripts Season One: 1nf3ction #6)

Keaton

Six months later

“Keaton, sweetheart. Do you have five minutes for an old lady?” I stopped dead and turned back toward the house. Ignoring a summons from August’s grandma was tantamount to putting your balls in a vise. Even if she was smiling sweetly and using endearments.

“Of course,” I said, heading back inside. “Shall I make tea?”

“That would be lovely.”

Tea meant lemon tea. They grew lemons on the grounds, and honey from the beehive sweetened the tea.

If this community lacked anything, I hadn’t found it yet.

I took my time making it, pondering what Caroline wanted.

Deep down, I already knew. Somehow, she’d figured out August, and I had argued, even though we’d kept it in the bedroom and he’d left at first light without seeing her. She never rose early, yet she knew it.

We took tea in the living room, Caroline choosing the couch with the best view across the grounds. It also got the lion’s share of the sun on days where it showed its face. Today was one of those days.

She smiled when I deposited the bone china—yes, actual bone china—cup in front of her and patted the empty seat next to her. “I have a story to tell you,” she said as soon as I sat.

“Okay.”

“It’s about a small boy who used to run headlong into danger.” She smiled at my expression. “You’re wondering why I’m telling you this.”

“Perhaps,” I admitted.

“Well, humor me. Maybe you’ll learn something.”

I sipped my tea, my hands comically large around the delicate cup, and waited.

“This small boy was somewhat wild,” she continued.

“I can imagine that.” There was no point in pretending we weren’t talking about August.

“He was always off looking for adventure. When he was younger, it wasn’t a problem.

He could only get into so much trouble here.

Scabbed knees. Bee stings. A broken arm.

Burned clothes.” She shook her head. “We never worked that last one out when he didn’t have matches.

” I smiled at the picture she was painting.

“What were you like as a child?” she asked.

I shrugged. “Not that bad. Probably because I had my sister to look after.” Mentioning her triggered the familiar pang in my chest. It had dulled, but I doubted it would ever vanish completely. Anderson’s death didn’t change that. “I shouldn’t have joined the army,” I admitted.

“Absolute poppycock!”

Startled by Caroline’s sudden rudeness, all I could do was stare.

“You can’t live your life for other people,” she said firmly.

I frowned. “I suppose not.”

“You can’t,” she repeated. “Do you think I couldn’t have kept August here if I wanted to? He’d have been safe, but he wouldn’t have been happy.”

I stiffened as the conversation veered a little too close to last night’s argument. Caroline shot me a knowing look. “Anyway, that boy grew into a man who knew his own mind and needed to see the world.”

“And see it, he did.”

She nodded. “I hoped he’d ride around on that damn motorcycle for a few weeks, get bored, and then come home. But it didn’t happen. His trips grew longer, and his time here shorter. He always returned, but often just for a night or two before leaving again.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

She shot me a look that said I was being stupid. “How long have you been here?”

“Six months.”

“And how many times has he talked about leaving?”

I shook my head, frustration building. “He hasn’t. But only because he’s got a bee in his bonnet about keeping me safe. I don’t want to be the one who holds him back. I keep telling him he should go and live his life.”

Caroline’s pointed stare said she wasn’t willing to do all the work, that I had to figure some things out for myself.

I thought through everything she’d told me.

“You’re telling me if he wanted to go, he would,” I said slowly.

“It’s not that simple, though, is it? Because he loves me. I’m not disputing that.”

Caroline raised an eyebrow. “And do you think that teenage boy, the one who only had a grandmother after his mother and father died, didn’t love me?”

“Of course not.” Heat that had nothing to do with the tea crept into my cheeks.

“But he left anyway,” she said. “Love doesn’t keep someone somewhere if they’re not happy.” She leaned closer. “But if you keep pushing him away, maybe one day he’ll go. Just to get a moment’s peace.”

“I’m not pushing him away.” Even as I said it, I knew it was a lie. When had we switched roles so that I’d become the liar? I’d become so convinced I knew what August wanted that I’d stopped listening when he told me I was wrong.

“Is he still teaching you to read?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

“What kind of teacher is he?”

“Terrible. Impatient. Critical.” He had an interesting reward system, but I wasn’t about to share that with his grandmother.

“And what else do you do together?”

“We walk. We talk. We take the bike out sometimes when he’s sure it won’t rain. We play cards, even though he always cheats.” He did. It turned out a conman couldn’t break all of his habits.

“You have sex,” Caroline added. “Or are we pretending you share a bed like brothers?”

“Jesus,” I muttered, suddenly unable to look at her. August had told me she was up front with certain things, and I’d seen his face when he’d read parts of her diary, but hearing about it and being on the receiving end of it were two different things.

“Is it good sex?”

Could you choke on tea? I wanted to try. Maybe if I tipped the rest of the liquid down my throat all in one go. “You should ask August,” I muttered.

“Hmm… I should ask the one I’m related to rather than the person he’s having it with, should I?

” I shrugged. “I’m going to assume it is good.

” She smirked. “So you have good sex, you do plenty of things together, he’s teaching you to read and write, you’re teaching him to shoot a crossbow, and you both help with the farming. What’s missing?”

I frowned. “What do you mean?”

“You’re convinced he’s not happy. That must mean something’s missing.” She thought for a moment. “Maybe you’re boring.”

“I’m not!” It came out far more defensive than I’d intended.

Caroline hid a smile behind her hand. “Just a suggestion.”

“I get it,” I said. “You don’t have to hammer it home. I should stop assuming he’s not being honest and listen to him.”

Caroline set her cup down. “Where were you going before?”

“Out.”

Her look said that vague answers wouldn’t wash with her. “To see August? To sort things out?”

The lie on the tip of my tongue shriveled beneath her hard stare. “No.”

She nodded, unsurprised. “Why not?”

I sighed. “Because I’m a stubborn son of a bitch who convinced himself the argument was August’s fault.”

Caroline shifted her position, sitting up straighter. “I won’t be around forever to bang your heads together.”

“We would have made up.”

“When?”

I winced. “Two… three days, maybe.”

“What a waste of days.”

“Yeah.”

She took the half-empty cup out of my hands and set it next to hers. A clear dismissal. “And now what are you going to do?”

“I’m going to find him.”

“And?”

“I’m going to apologize for being an asshole.”

“And?”

“I’ll tell him I love him.”

“And?”

I was running out of things to say. “I’ll… tell him I’ll do better from now on, and that I know he doesn’t lie to me anymore. If he says he doesn’t want to be anywhere but here, I’ll believe him.”

Caroline nodded, satisfied at last. After a pause, she raised an eyebrow. “You’re still here.”

I lurched to my feet, reaching the door before she called after me. “I meant what I said. I won’t always be around to give either of you a good talking-to.”

I found August in the wheat field, deep in conversation with Barclay, the other man shirtless as usual. It seemed to happen a lot around August. Funny that.

There were several ways I could handle this. I could wait politely while they finished their conversation. I could join the conversation and then request that August accompany me somewhere to talk when it reached a natural lull. Or… I could be less subtle.

I had a feeling Caroline might approve as I chose the latter and strode over to them, throwing August over my shoulder and walking off without a word.

Barclay stood open-mouthed as I carried August toward the cowshed.

Not glamorous. Not romantic, but it had a roof, a door, and—apart from the cows—privacy.

“Keaton, what the fuck are you doing?”

“Apologizing,” I said as I tipped him unceremoniously into a pile of straw. By the time I closed the door, he was struggling upright and spitting straw from his mouth. The cows watched me impassively as I pulled the milking stool closer and sat.

He plucked a stray piece of straw from his hair. “Go on then.”

“What?”

“Apologize.”

“I just did.”

“That is not an apology. That’s an abduction followed by…” He glanced around at the straw. “I don’t even know what the fuck this is.”

“We’re talking, aren’t we?”

He leaned back on his elbows. “We are.” He studied me, eyes narrowed. “Want to tell me what’s going on?”

“Last night, I may have been…”

“Stubborn? Pig-headed? Blinded by your own stupidity? Deaf to common sense?” August smirked. “I’ve got more if you need them.”

“I don’t, thanks.”

He raised an eyebrow—so much like Caroline in that moment it made me wonder if he’d live to a ripe old age too. I hoped so. And I hoped I got to share as many of those years with him as I could. I leaned forward. “If I ask you some questions, will you promise to answer honestly?”

“Yes.”

A knock sounded on the barn door. All the cows turned toward it, one letting out a soft moo.

“It’s me,” Barclay called. “Are you okay, August? Want me to get someone?”

“Who?” I asked, unable to stop myself. “Who are you going to get? Are you going to drag Caroline all the way down here?”

Silence. Barclay apparently had no comeback. “I’m fine,” August shouted. “This is just the way we are.” Something about that made him smile. And because he was smiling, I smiled too.

“Questions,” he prompted once Barclay’s footsteps faded.

“Your life here with me differs a lot from the one you used to have.”

“Not a question.”

“I’m getting to it.”

He spread his hands in mock surrender.

“I find it hard to believe this is what you really want.”

“I know that. You’ve said it a time or two.”

“So… is it what you want?”

“Yes.” No hesitation. No blink. Not even a twitch. “If I didn’t, I’d leave. I’d make up an excuse.”

“Are you happy with me?”

This time he thought about the question. “Most of the time.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“When you’re not picking unnecessary arguments and tossing me into cow dung.”

I rolled my eyes. “It’s clean straw.”

August’s grin said he was winding me up.

“I love you,” I said.

He tilted his head. “Sorry, I didn’t catch that. You’ll have to come closer and say it.”

I shuffled the stool an inch closer. “I love you.”

“Nope. Still didn’t hear it.”

Another inch. “I love you.”

I should have seen it coming. Six months with him had shown me exactly how his devious brain worked. So as he yanked me down into the straw, I couldn’t work out how I hadn’t avoided it. Maybe I hadn’t wanted to, because if he was there, there was nowhere else in the world I wanted to be.

The straw threw us together, August’s weight pressing me deeper. “Apology accepted.”

I shoved him off and rolled onto my back, straw going into places I’d rather not have had it.

For one long moment, we stared up at the barn ceiling in silence.

“I’ll listen in the future,” I said. “I just find it hard to believe that I’ve been this lucky, and maybe there’s a part of me that feels like I don’t deserve it. ”

August put his hands together and clapped slowly. “And there we have it, the truth at last.” He rolled his head toward me. “You do. We both do. And it’s about time you accepted that.”

“No more cons?” I asked.

“No more cons. My luck was always going to run out one day, so it’s better to stop before it does.”

I nodded. “I’m not going to argue with that.”

“And should I ever get itchy feet, I’ll tell you.”

“If you do, we’ll go together. And we’ll just make sure we stay out of the rain.”

“Definitely.”

“There’s one thing I can’t work out,” I mused.

“What’s that?”

“How Caroline knew we’d argued.” It was the silence that gave August away this time. I struggled upright. “You told her.”

“Well, you wouldn’t listen to me. What else was I supposed to do to get you to listen?”

Shaking my head, I tried to get out of the straw, but August clung to my arm. Eventually, I gave in and sank back in. “Your tactics are underhand,” I said.

“Always.”

“But I love you anyway.”

“I love you too.”