Misery settled on his shoulders. How had this all gone so wrong? He’d been in the right, and now Dalton was twisting everything to get out of trouble. Cal tightened his lips and refused to back down. “What are you going to do about the mess you made?”
Dalton yanked the power cord from the saw, grabbed his baseball hat from the rung, and headed toward the door. “I’ll fix it.”
“How? More lies? Gonna promise to marry her until after the inspection comes through? That’ll really help us.”
His brother spun around. “I said I’d fix it. From now on, keep your damn nose out of my business and my sex life. Get your own.” He gave a snort. “Interesting, though, you lecturing me on combining work with pleasure while you’re hot for Morgan Raines. How about that as a potential disaster, dude?”
His ears buzzed with pure rage. “Did you touch her?” he asked softly. Deadly. His hands trembled with the urge to beat his brother senseless for taking another woman he was interested in. The image of that fateful night rose up before him in full, mocking imagery.
Excited about his upcoming wedding, he’d been tipsy as he stumbled into the house, making his way toward his bedroom. The room spun, but he was happy. He loved Felicia with the ardor of a man who had a future full of bright vision and endless fortune on the horizon. He had a plan, and finally all his hard work was paying off. He’d get out from under his father’s thumb, make his own way at Pierce Brothers, have a big family, and be happy. God knew, he craved a slice of happy after his mother’s death. Until the door swung open and he caught his brother with his future wife wrapped in his arms, her head tilted back, lips curved in a soft, intimate smile telling him they’d done this many times before. Dalton whispered something in her ear, and she gave the familiar giggle he associated with her happiness, but this time it wasn’t for him. He stood and watched his brother hold his fiancée, and a strange numbness overcame him. Was he enraged? Brokenhearted? Ripped to pieces? He should be. Cal remembered thinking in that moment that he should go apeshit crazy. Instead, he felt . . . disappointed. Such a lukewarm emotion for a man who watched the woman he thought he loved and adored in his brother’s arms.
The rest was a blur. The accusations. The tears. His brother’s defense. Cal walked away, and the strong bond between them was splintered into a thousand pieces. It was more hurtful than losing his future wife. Losing his brother had been far, far worse.
Dalton shook his head in disgust. “Touch her? No. Give me a little respect. And unlike you, if you want to go for it, I won’t be getting in your way.”
He and Dalton had always seen women in a very clear way. Tristan had been different, a bit of the artistic, emotional type they used to make fun of. He was the kind to write poetry and think deep thoughts in the woods. He’d been smitten with Sydney for years, and they’d had some secret love affair when they were kids. Dalton and Cal had joined forces to torture him. But the night Dalton took his woman away, Cal realized they’d never be able to repair their relationship. It was too . . . broken. Too far gone.
“Why’d you have to do it?” he asked bitterly. “I trusted you.”
The demons swirled in the room between them, and Dalton swore viciously. “What do you want from me, Cal?” he asked. “Another apology? Another vow I never fucked Felicia? I didn’t. I never would. She came on to me, and I knew if you got married she’d cheat. You wouldn’t listen to me, so I decided to prove you’d be making a mistake. Instead, I made the mistake, and I’ve paid for it for years. I’m tired of paying for something I did because I loved you. I’m done. With all of it.”
The door slammed behind him. The sound echoed in the silence, and Cal squeezed his eyes shut, trying to find his balance in a world that was beginning to sway beneath his feet. An odd need to forgive and delve deeper into Dalton’s explanation pulled at him. But he fought it back, because in a way, he agreed with Dalton.
Cal was done with it, too. All of it.
chapter thirteen
Morgan twisted her fingers nervously and paused at the massive front door. Maybe she should turn around. After all, Cal and Dalton had some issues to work out, and it probably wasn’t a good time to intrude. Besides, she wasn’t good at this stuff. The bottle of champagne she’d brought suddenly felt obnoxious, and the banana cream pie purchased from Eddy’s Gourmet Bakery in town seemed pushy. Oh, why hadn’t she stayed in her hotel and ordered room service? The Greek salad was quite delicious, and she’d built relationships with the kitchen and waitstaff who anticipated her every order and knew she tipped well.
What was she doing here?
Morgan turned on her heel to flee.
The door swung open.
Trapped in midflight, she turned her head and caught Cal’s knowing grin. He reached out to snag the presents, amusement dancing in those smoky gray eyes. “A woman who’s on time is my favorite kind. Is this pie from Eddy’s? I’ve died and gone to heaven. Come in.”
Too late. The door slammed behind her, and she was greeted by the enthusiastic moaning and wriggling fur bodies she was beginning to adore. Scratching their heads and trying to keep clear of their thumping tails, Morgan allowed herself to bask in the overabundant pure emotion of animals who just loved and welcomed her to their home. The pang of wanting something that made no sense hit but quickly dissipated. Morgan grew up in a solid home with loving parents and was well taken care of. She was grateful. What was she missing, then?
After her diagnosis and the disastrous breakup with Elias, she’d made sure she focused on ambition and career success. It was a good thing. She was used to relationships that were . . . clean. Built on mutual favors, similarities, and secure walls to keep out messiness. But these dogs gave her a glimpse of something else, something that was so deliciously blissful and pure and decadent. A sloppy, all-consuming affection and focus that made her feel like the most important person on the planet.