Tell didn’t even bother with a shot glass; he just chugged straight from the bottle.
How the f**k could Tell ever look at his father again with anything except disgust? With this…Casper had gone beyond alcoholic ass**le unhappy with his lot in life and taking it out on everyone around him. The man was a f**king psychopath. An evil manipulator. A f**king puppet master. An evil sonuvabitch.
Casper McKay had pitted his sons against each other. He wreaked havoc with his own brothers and caused a rift in the family that’d taken years to repair. He verbally abused his wife. All of those things were bad by themselves.
They should’ve washed their hands of him years ago. Fuck that forgive and forget mindset. Fuck that honor thy father tenet.
There was no doubt in Tell’s mind that Dalton was Casper’s kid. No doubt. If Dalton had spoken to their mother, he would’ve learned firsthand that Joan McKay hadn’t been unfaithful. Yes, she’d left Casper once. She’d gone to stay with her family in Nebraska. But her aunt and uncle had convinced her that marriage was a lifelong commitment in the eyes of God and advised her to return to her husband and work it out. So she had.
Tell had accidentally overheard that conversation between his mother and mother-in-law one night last year when he’d been up feeding Jackson. They’d talked about their struggles with being more afraid to leave a bad marriage than to stay in it. How long it’d taken to muster up the guts to leave for good.
He thought of Jackson and got that warm surge of love. How could a father do to his own child what Casper had done to Dalton? Plant the seeds that his son wasn’t really his son and watch that kid cut himself off from his entire family?
Because he could. Because Casper knew Dalton wouldn’t tell anyone. Just like he hadn’t told anyone about the years of physical abuse he’d suffered at the hands of their father.
Fury boiled through Tell like hot lava.
What a f**ked up mess.
The booze hit him hard. He shoved the bottle out of reach and cradled his head in his hands. If he felt this lost and miserable for Dalton, how had Dalton felt the last three years?
After Dalton had first left, Tell had reached out to him, but when Dalton’s response times got longer, it’d gotten easier to put off making that phone call. If he had any guilt, he’d quickly squashed it with the self-righteous reminder that the phone lines ran both ways.
Dalton had shut himself off and they’d let him. They’d f**king let him.
He’d never felt more like a miserable f**king excuse of a human being as he did in that moment.
The floorboard creaked behind him. “Tell?”
He was too choked up to respond.
“Sweetheart, are you okay?”
He shook his head.
“What’s wrong?”
“Everything,” he said hoarsely.
A pause. “Talk to me.”
“I don’t know if I can.”
Georgia draped her arms over his shoulders, hugging him from behind. “I’ll be right here, holding on to you until you’re ready.”
Tell took the strength and comfort she offered and began to talk.
After he finished, his beautiful, sweet wife rested her damp cheek against his. No surprise his tenderhearted love had shed tears for Dalton. “I’m sorry. What else can I do for you?”
“You’re doin’ it. Every day you do it for me. I’ve got so much…because of him. He’s the one who kicked me in the ass to tell you how I felt about you. He all but gave us this house. It’s f**kin’ killin’ me that he’s been dealin’ with this shit alone.” Tell didn’t bother to hide his tears. He just closed his eyes, held onto her and let them fall.
“You can be there for him now. You guys can get past this.”
“Why would he want to?”
“If he didn’t want to, he wouldn’t have come back.”
“He came back because me’n Brandt didn’t give him a choice. He’s staying here because of Rory.”
“Will Dalton go to her?”
“No. I’m pretty sure he hasn’t told her about any of this.”
“Tell. Baby. Rory deserves to know.”
“That’s not my call.”
“Then I’m making it mine.” Georgia retreated and unplugged her phone from the wall charger. She scrolled through her contact list and held the phone to her ear, sliding a notepad on the counter within reach.
“Georgia. What are you doin’?”
She held up her hand. “Hey, Rielle, it’s Georgia McKay. Look, I’m sorry to be calling so late, but I need to get in touch with Rory. No, it’s not an emergency. All I can say is it has to do with Dalton. Okay. I’m ready.” Georgia scrawled the numbers on the notepad. “Thanks, I appreciate it. I’m sure nothing is wrong, but I wanted to check in with her. Good-night.”
Georgia immediately dialed the number.
“Rory? Hey. It’s Georgia McKay. Your mom gave me your number. Have you heard from Dalton tonight? He went out with his brothers and Tell just got home. I wondered if Dalton drove to your place afterward.” Pause. “Don’t worry; they didn’t end up in a fistfight. And Tell…he’s a bit wrecked after what went down and he says Brandt is the same way. I don’t know how Dalton is faring, or if he planned to call you, but I figured you’d want to know. Uh-huh. As far as I know. I’d start there first. If Dalton needs anything, please call us right away—no matter what time it is. Thanks, Rory.” She hung up.
“Why’d you do that?”
Georgia set down the phone. “Whether or not Dalton tells her is his choice. But if they’re involved on the level I believe they are, it’s also Rory’s right to know if he needs her. It’s her right to be there for him.”
He closed his eyes when she wrapped herself around him.
“Come to bed.”
“In a bit. I should call my mom. She needs to know—”
“And you need some time to process this. Besides, didn’t you promise Dalton you wouldn’t bring it up with her?”
“No. We said we wouldn’t bring it up with Dad. I’ll honor that. But I won’t keep this from her.”
“You shouldn’t. But Joan will have plenty of sleepless nights after you talk to her. So let her have the rest of tonight.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
The porch light was off so Rory knew Dalton wasn’t expecting her.
She’d gotten a little freaked out by Georgia’s phone call. Whatever happened must’ve been bad.