She hoped so.
THE TORY COUNTRY Club was eye-roll-worthy, in Cal’s opinion. Over-the-top and flowery, and man, all he wanted to do was put his feet up on the coffee table in the lobby, grab a beer, and watch a baseball game.
Or he’d rather be home, playing video games with Asher. He knew the kid would have been fine by himself all night, but Gabe had said he could spend the night at his house with Julian. Cal figured that was a better idea, so Asher didn’t have to rattle around in his house all by himself. Cal would still rather be home with him.
Cal kept those thoughts to himself, though. He shook hands when Jenna introduced him to her colleagues, and he smiled. He even made small talk about the weather, which was painful. But Jenna beamed at him, her smile lighting up the entire place.
He managed to escape to a corner of the room with a vodka tonic clutched in his hand. Jenna worked the crowd, her dress swishing around her legs. He crunched the ice in his glass with his molars, shifting uncomfortably when the thought of his hand up that skirt made his pants tight.
“You might wanna simmer down on the eye-fucking,” a voice said next to him.
He looked down at Delilah, who sipped from a martini glass and peered at him over the rim. Her hair was down, black and straight and so long it touched her elbows.
“Didn’t know the kid’s department sold dresses that tight.” He gestured toward her purple dress.
She scowled. “It’s called petite, jackass.”
Cal grunted and let his eyes drift to Jenna, who had her back to them, round ass in view. “I like a good handful.”
“Don’t be a pig.”
He snorted.
She plucked at his shirt. “I did pretty well, didn’t I? Jenna like your clothes?”
He grinned wolfishly. “Yeah, she liked ’em so much, she—”
“Oh, shut up.”
He laughed. “So what are you doing there?”
She waved a hand into the crowd. “I came as a plus-one.”
“With you?”
“Some guy named Marshall.”
“Marshall?”
“I just want my name in the raffle. Some great stuff is up.”
“So you seduced a guy so you could get invited?”
She winked at him.
“You’re a bad influence on Jenna.”
She pushed his shoulder gently. “You have nothing to fear. That woman is gone for you.”
He didn’t answer that, because he sure hoped so. He was gone for her. If he thought about it, he might have been gone for her again the second he saw her standing outside his garage next to that Dodge Charger. He didn’t know how Jenna felt. Of course, he caught her watching him, a small smile on her face. She was attentive and caring, but that wasn’t the same thing as falling in love with him. He’d avoided talking to her about it the last two weeks, but it was time now, time for them to finally put into words what they’d been communicating with kisses.
He didn’t have time to think about it now, though, because Jenna was walking toward them. She hugged her friend, and they chatted for a minute about clothes and stuff Cal didn’t care about. Then Jenna announced it was time to sit for dinner, and Cal did care about that.
It was worth it too. Slices of rare roast beef and garlic mashed potatoes and roasted broccoli. Must have cost the company a pretty penny. Jenna’s eyes flitted around the room during dinner until he placed a hand on her thigh. “Eat.”
She looked a little guilty, but she dug in and cleaned her plate. They sat at a table with her brother and his date, her parents, and some other higher-ups in the company. Cal kept his head down and his mouth full, so he wasn’t asked to contribute to any conversations. He let the voices carry over his head.
Dinner was fine until Dylan finished off what had to be his third drink and looked at Jenna with a gleam in his eye.
Cal’s backbone stiffened.
“So you think this event will actually have a lasting impact?” Dylan asked, propping himself up with an elbow on the table.
Jenna’s face was composed, and Cal knew if they were in private, she’d probably light into her brother. But not in public. “I do think it will. Something had to be done.”
It was a reference to the damage her brother had inflicted on the company. No one at the table missed that. Dylan’s eyes narrowed. “Thank God the brilliant Jenna was able to come back into town to fix everything. Never mind that I’ve been working my ass off at this company for ten years, helping to build it to what it was—”
“No one is saying you don’t work hard, Dylan,” Jenna’s father said sternly.
But Dylan was on a roll. “So now you’re back to play the hero and to finish this white-trash fairy tale you got going on.” He waved in Cal’s direction.
Jenna sucked in a sharp breath, and Cal curled his hands into fists under the table. He told himself Dylan was drunk. He told himself to ignore the words, that he didn’t care what Dylan thought of him. Because he didn’t. But this was Jenna’s night, and he didn’t want Dylan embarrassing her.
“Dylan,” Jenna said in a firm voice, “enough. Why don’t you switch to drinking water?”
Her brother stood and sloppily smoothed his tie. “I think I’ll get another drink. We have to get our money’s worth out of this open bar we’re paying for, right?”
Cal stared at the man’s back, wanting to go after him and get in his face. Instead, he reached over and slipped his fingers into Jenna’s. She shot him a wobbly smile.
The night went pretty fast after that. Cal stopped drinking because the last thing he wanted to do was embarrass Jenna.
They listened to the raffle and clapped when Delilah squealed about winning an all-expenses-paid ski trip.
Then Jenna dragged Cal on the dance floor to slow dance, because Cal didn’t do any other kind of dancing.
The strains of “Wonderful Tonight” by Eric Clapton came through the speakers set up by the DJ booth. Jenna’s arms were on his shoulders, her fingers twirling in the hair at the base of his neck. He curled his hands around her waist, so his fingers rested on her lower back and the top of her ass. Most other couples kept it a little more PG, but Cal was tired and wanted Jenna as close as possible.
Her hazel eyes peered up at him in the dim light. “You were amazing tonight.”
“Me? I didn’t do anything. This was all you.”
“Yeah, but—”
“You planned this event. I heard people talking about how nice it was and how much they loved it and how proud they were to work for MacMillan.”
She blushed slightly.
He squeezed her waist. “That was all you.”
“Thank you. I’m just saying that I know this isn’t your thing, but you’ve been amazingly supportive all night.”
“Wouldn’t have thought to be anything else.”
He’d spent a long time with his head down, working hard within a small circle of family. He’d found a place to rent to open up his own cycle repair shop, so once he told his father about it, he’d have his dream job. And in one summer, he now had a half-brother and a woman at his side who made his heart pound. He’d spent so long trying to separate himself from the kid he’d been that he hadn’t realized that kid might have actually known a thing or two.
Eric Clapton’s lyrics filtered into his brain, and with Jenna’s upturned face full of devotion, all he wanted to do was say what was in his heart. This would change it all, he knew, this final acknowledgement of what had been steadily growing between them since she got back to town.
He had to take the plunge, because he trusted Jenna to be there at the bottom. He trusted himself to make it there. He raised his hand and brushed her hair off her temple. “Love you, Sunshine. Not sure I ever stopped. But what I felt for you at eighteen is nothing compared to how I feel for you now.”
Jenna’s mouth dropped open, and her hazel eyes were wide. She didn’t blink. She didn’t speak. Her fingers still clung to him, and so he focused on that, on her b
ody against him, and waited for her to process his words.
She licked her lips, and her eyelashes fluttered.
And then she smiled.
But not just any smile—no, this was the smile, the one that lit up her entire face, made her glow, made her shine. Cal didn’t want to move from this spot, not for a long while, as he basked in the warmth and absolute beauty of his Sunshine.
She opened her mouth, but whatever she was going to say was stopped by his cell phone ringing in his pocket. He normally would have ignored it, but he wanted to check to make sure it wasn’t Asher. When he pulled it out of his pocket, Gabe’s number was on his screen. It was the only thing that could tear him away from this moment.
“Jenna, it’s Gabe, so I gotta—”
She waved him off, her hand trembling. He hated to leave her there on the dance floor, at this moment, which seemed crucial, because he didn’t know if he’d breathe again until he heard what she was about to say. But what if something was wrong with Asher?
He put his phone up to his ear, but he couldn’t hear over the music. As he headed back down the hallway of the bathrooms, the call disconnected. He frowned at it and called back, getting Gabe’s voicemail. “What the hell?” he muttered, staring at his phone so intently that he wasn’t looking where he was going and nearly walked into someone. He pulled up abruptly and lifted his gaze to the hazel eyes of Dylan MacMillan.
The guy didn’t look like he wanted to move either. He was listing slightly to the right, a consequence of the rum-and-Cokes he’d been sucking down like water. But his arms were crossed over his chest.
And his eyes were cold as hell.
Cal straightened his back, already thinking of an endgame, a way to avoid a conversation and get the hell away from Dylan.
He wanted to answer this phone call, get back to Jenna, and find out what the hell she was going to say.
The way Dylan’s lip was curled, the way he looked down his nose at Cal, chafed Cal’s skin like sandpaper, but he held firm.
“So how will your relationship end this time, huh? Because we all know it will.”
Cal sighed. This conversation is already starting off well. “I’m not doing this with you.” He made to walk past Dylan, but the guy sidestepped to block his path. Cal clenched his fists and counted to ten.
Dylan was so close, Cal could smell the rum on his breath and a hint of his expensive cologne.
“It’s so easy for her,” Dylan snarled. “All she has to do is come back to town, wave a wand, and everyone falls for her. She gets the job and the man.”
Cal tried to let the words go in one ear and out the other, but his blood was beginning to boil. He didn’t care what Dylan thought of him, but he did care if he was disrespectful to Jenna. “Did you ever think about how that happens because she deserves it? Because she works hard and people notice?”
Dylan’s nostrils flared. “And everyone’s talking about you coming here on her arm, how sweet it is that you two are back together. Everyone forgets the Paytons don’t belong here, especially not at the country club.”
Cal threw his arms out to his sides. “Honest to God, Dylan. What the fuck is your problem with me? I couldn’t care less about you. I don’t care that you exist, so why the fuck do you give a shit about me?”
Dylan turned blazing eyes on Cal. “I’m tired of everything always being about her!” He shoved Cal in the chest with both hands, and since Cal was unprepared, he stumbled back a foot.
Cal clenched his fists and rolled his jaw, because what he really wanted to do was take Dylan’s block off, put a fist through his face. Break his nose just like he did ten years ago.
“I wish everyone could see what you’re really like.” Dylan’s voice was full of barbs. “And then they’ll see she’s not so perfect.”
Cal’s shoulder twitched, his whole body wanting him to throw a punch, but he thought back to half an hour ago, when Jenna danced in his arms. They weren’t eighteen anymore. Cal wasn’t a hothead. He’d walk away, because punching this guy at the country club would only make everything worse.
“Cal?” Jenna’s voice filtered through the music.
Dylan’s eyes widened. He glanced over his shoulder, and then he turned back to Cal. In two strides he was in front of the bathroom door. And Cal watched in horror as Dylan pushed the door open, then grabbed the handle, and slammed the door back into his own face.
“What the fuck?” Cal roared.
And Dylan screamed a high-pitched wail as he held his nose, which was now gushing blood.
Voices came closer, reaching the end of the hallway, as Cal watched Dylan bend at the waist, howling like a banshee.
Everything was in slow motion then. Jenna’s dad was screaming for security. His wife, with a blanched face beside him, looking like she was going to faint. Dylan clutching his bleeding face, pointing at Cal. “He hit me! The asshole hit me!”
There were men around Cal, jostling him, grabbing his arms. He stared at his knuckles, scarred from labor, and wondered how the hell he was going to prove he hadn’t touched Dylan. Who was going to believe him over the son of the company’s owner?
Time froze when Jenna appeared at the top of the hallway. She was backlit from the lights on the dance floor, so her hair was a dark wavy mass around her face. Just a moment ago, he was there, floating on a high in her light. And now, not five minutes later, everything was back to fucking black. The contrast stung his eyes and pierced his heart. Cal stared at her, shaking his head, unsure what to say. “I didn’t—” he began, but Dylan started wailing louder, drowning out Cal’s assertion of the truth. Cal could probably take out the guys holding him with a couple well-placed elbow jabs, but how would that look? That would only make him look guiltier. So he didn’t fight. He’d have to explain later, if he even got the chance. He allowed himself to be dragged down the hallway toward a back door.
Away from Jenna.
She stood there among the chaos. Motionless. Staring at him.
He hadn’t known the knife of disappointment could flay him alive. He knew now.
FIVE MINUTES LATER, his mind wasn’t on what had happened in that damn hallway of the country club. Because his phone rang again, and Gabe was hysterical with apologies, and Cal was doing ninety on the way to the hospital, thinking he wasn’t sure he’d make it through seeing another brother lying on one of those beds.
Chapter Twenty-Four
THIS WAS DÉJÀ vu to Cal. It was Max all over again—when he’d been attacked on his college campus, pistol-whipped in the back of his head.
Cal had nearly gone out of his mind when he saw his youngest brother on that hospital bed, a bandage around his head.
And now . . . well . . . now it was happening again. Except this time, it actually was his youngest brother, the one he didn’t know existed, lying on the white-sheeted mattress, a bandage on his head, his broken arm in a brace. The nurse said they’d cast it later.
Cal had shown up at the hospital to find a crying Julian and a hysterical Gabe, who apologized profusely. Cal hadn’t said a word as they led him to Asher’s room. Their words were nails hammered into his brain—how Gabe had given Asher a ride on his motorcycle around the yard. The bike had backfired, and Asher had fallen off, cracking his head on the driveway and breaking his arm.
Jesus fuck. He’d kept Asher in Tory to keep him safe. And he’d done exactly the opposite, suffering through a fucking party he didn’t even want to be at, while the kid fell off a bike and landed in the hospital.
He’d been so busy with Asher and Jenna, he’d completely forgotten about fixing Gabe’s bike. It just . . . slipped his mind.
Asher had been sleeping when Cal arrived at the room, so Cal talked to the doctors to find out that Asher was mostly fine, but he was being monitored for a concussion. While feeling like he was going to vomit in the fake plant outside his brother’s room, Cal had called his mom to tell her what happened. The hospital needed insurance information. Cal had expected a guilt trip from he
r. He’d expected something¸ but all she’d said was to have Asher call her when he woke up.
Fucking ridiculous.
And now he sat on a bench outside Asher’s room while the kid slept, telling himself to breath. In through the nose. Out through the mouth. He had his head between his legs, his hands laced behind his neck.
This is exactly what he’d wanted to avoid. This was why he’d spent ten years shutting himself down. Because this fucking hurt, to be so worried about someone else, to not have control. It made him want to gather everyone he cared about and stick them in a bubble where he could watch them and protect them all the time. He’d told himself he’d try this whole family thing all over again, and it hadn’t taken long before it all got fucked up. Hadn’t taken long before Cal realized he wasn’t strong enough to deal with all of this again. Even right now, he was sick to his stomach, one step away from a mental breakdown. He’d tried this—the whole responsibility thing—and he’d failed.
His fists clenched, his chest constricted. He needed to get his shit together before Asher woke up.
He kept his phone off, having told Jill to call Asher’s phone if she wanted to get in touch. Because he didn’t want to hear the disappointment in Jenna’s voice that would mirror that look on her face—the same one she’d give him a decade ago.
So he was done. He didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t want to see it. He didn’t know what he’d been thinking, reaching for this elusive dream of Jenna and a family.
Because right now, while Asher slept, his face pinched in pain, Cal couldn’t remember why it was worth it. Not now, while Jenna’s disappointed expression ghosted in front of his eyes everywhere he turned. Not now, when his vision was blinking between Asher and Max, injured.
Maybe he wasn’t strong enough. Maybe he’d reached the limit now. The reserve was gone. He was dry.
He was that eighteen-year-old kid again, wishing for things that would never happen. Fuck this shit. He was done. Life wasn’t complicated back when he lived alone and kept everyone away with a scowl. He wanted that back.
He needed a shower. He needed a drink. He needed anything to get rid of these bugs crawling under his skin.
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