“If she woulda made him happy, he wouldn’t’ve been lookin’ for it all over the goddamn county. That little bitch made him miserable from the day he married her. And she’ll make you miserable too. Mark my words.”
Brandt shoved him again, hard. “I’m so f**kin’ sick and tired of you running off at the mouth about her. You don’t know a thing about Jessie. You never have.”
“And I never will.”
“Brandt. Let him go.”
He felt rather than saw Tell and Dalton move in behind him. But he couldn’t make his hand release his father’s shirt. He couldn’t move his arm.
“Come on, bro. This isn’t helping.”
A beat passed and Brandt finally let go and stepped back.
A smirk twisted his father’s face. “Felt good, didn’t it? To give in to that anger? I saw it in your eyes.
No matter what you say, no matter how hard you try, you know the truth. You’re just like me.”
Infuriated, Brandt lunged for him again, but he got there too late.
Tell had pinned their father against the wall. “Shut it, old man. Brandt may’ve gotten the hair trigger temper from you, but my anger has been smoldering for years and I guarantee you don’t want me to give in to it. Ever.” Tell shoved him once and stepped back.
Their dad’s eyes slid to Dalton. “What? You ain’t gonna tell me how long you’ve been gunning for me? Waitin’ for the day to beat the crap out of your old man?”
Dalton said nothing.
He laughed cruelly. “Still actin’ like a boy, letting our brothers do all the talking, taking all the punishments to save your precious hide. How long before they realize you ain’t worth it?”
“Stop it. All of you,” his mother said, sobbing. “Stop it right now.”
Silence.
Brandt glared at his father, his rage a living thing.
“You can have her or a stake in the ranch, Brandt, but not both. You choose.”
He didn’t look at his brothers or his mother as he picked up his hat and left.
Jessie had just gotten back from feeding the animals when she noticed Brandt’s truck was parked in front of her trailer. No sign of him. He’d probably gone inside.
Without saying anything to her? That was strange. Brandt always searched her out when she did chores. Always.
Maybe he was tired. Yesterday was long and emotionally trying for both of them. Not to mention he’d kept her up half the night, making love to her until they fell asleep still joined—which had been a first for her, and more romantic than she’d imagined. Draped across Brandt’s warm body, her head nestled under his chin, her knees curled by his hips with his c**k still embedded inside her, his hands cupping her ass.
She’d woken up a couple hours later when he hardened inside her. He rolled her over and made love to her again, whispering words of devotion. Declaring his undying, never-ending love for her. Making promises she actually believed.
It’d been the greatest night of her life.
Smiling, she dropped the bucket and the pitchfork next to the gate and raced to the house. She burst inside. “Brandt?”
No answer.
Lexie lifted her head and gave her a crabby look for disturbing her nap.
Huh. That was weird. Brandt’s boots weren’t on the rug. His clothes weren’t hung up on the coat tree.
She kicked off her overshoes and walked down the hallway. “Brandt? You okay?”
No answer.
He wasn’t in the bathroom.
He wasn’t in the bedroom.
Maybe she’d just missed him and he was in the barn.
As Jessie was slipping her boots back on, she heard her cell phone beep, indicating she had a voice mail. She snatched the phone off the coffee table and checked the missed calls. Tell had called. Four times in the last hour.
Her stomach sank to her toes. She dialed her voice mail and listened to the first of two messages.
“Jessie. Brandt is on his way there. Or I assume he’s on his way. He’s not answering any phone calls from me or Dalton and…Jesus. We’re freaked out. It didn’t go well with Dad today and…Just call me, okay?”
Didn’t go well? What the hell did that mean? The next message started to play.
“Jess, I know I already left you a message, but it’s really important you get back to me right away and let me know you’re okay. I’ve never seen Brandt like this.”
Never seem him like this. Like what? Why would Tell be worried that Brandt would hurt her? Brandt would never ever hurt her.
Maybe he’s worried that Brandt will hurt himself.
Oh God. No.
Fear spiked her pulse. Jessie tore down the steps and sprinted to the barn. But when she reached the side barn door, which had been left ajar, she skidded to a stop. Busting in on him was a bad idea.
She slipped inside as quietly as possible. The familiar scents of hay, manure, dirt, grain and grease didn’t offer the usual comfort, especially when she heard harsh grunts and the hard and fast thud thud thud of one object striking another.
The sound of a chain rattling echoed from the tack room. A sound she recognized. The heavy bag.
She crept to the back of the barn and froze.
Any relief that Brandt was taking out his aggressions on the punching bag fled when she saw all the blood. Spattered on his face. On his bare chest and arms. Bloody streaks smeared on the canvas cover of the bag. His knuckles were raw. His forearms were scraped from elbow to wrist. Bloody scrapes spread across both his shoulders.
He’d taken off his shirt to inflict the most possible damage to his body. His neck and chest and abs were coated with a mixture of sweat and blood. When Jessie found the guts to look at his face, she couldn’t withhold a gasp. His hair was plastered to his head. His face was bright red, the muscles in his jaw flexed with every punch he threw. The veins in his neck bulged to the point she could see his pulse pounding. His forehead and cheeks and chin were wet, but she couldn’t tell if it was from sweat or tears. But it was his eyes that stopped her. She recognized the rage and grief. She didn’t recognize the feral light that made him look like a wild animal, incapable of rational thought.
He’s hurting himself. Stop him.
But Jessie was frozen in that place between logic and fear. What if she stepped in and he was so far gone he somehow hurt her? Without knowing what he was doing? Brandt would never forgive himself.
Can you forgive yourself if he has an aneurysm and you stood by and let it happen?
No. That snapped her out of her trance, watching Brandt beat the heavy bag and himself to a pulp.