Braydon(49)

Brendon grunted in response.

“What happened last night?” Braydon asked, turning to face his brother as he reclined against the counter.

Brendon was rummaging through the refrigerator, apparently not finding what he was looking for if the ruckus was anything to go by. Bottles clanked together when he stood up and shut the door.

“Not a f*ckin’ thing,” Brendon growled.

“Whoa, man. What the hell happened to your eye?” Brendon met his gaze across the room and Braydon noticed the pain etched on his face. It went nicely with the black eye his brother appeared to be sporting.

“I ran into a fist. What the f*ck does it look like happened?” Brendon retorted as he stormed out of the room, his voice carrying behind him.

Okay, clearly Brendon wasn’t in the mood to chat.

“We need to talk,” Braydon said, purposely keeping his voice soft enough that maybe Brendon wouldn’t hear him.

When Brendon marched back into the kitchen, Braydon realized he hadn’t been quiet enough.

“Talk, then. I’m all ears.”

Braydon stared cautiously at Brendon. He took a deep breath and then exhaled slowly. “I wanted to apologize.”

That obviously wasn’t what Brendon was expecting to hear, because his eyes widened, his head cocking to the side.

“What? I’ve been known to apologize before,” he said, jokingly. Sort of.

Brendon didn’t so much as crack a smile. “You don’t have anything to f*cking apologize for,” he argued, his hands planted on the center island that stood between them.

“Sure I do.”

“Bullshit. I’m the one who f*cked up. I f*cked everything up. God damn it!” Brendon pushed back from the counter, gripped his head with both hands, and then once again stomped out of the kitchen.

Braydon was at a loss for words as he watched his brother retreat to the other room.

Okay, so that wasn’t how he had expected this discussion to go. He had anticipated Brendon nodding his head, agreeing that it was about time he came clean. Seeing Brendon pissed off shouldn’t have surprised him, at least not if his attitude over the last few days was anything to go by, but honestly, Braydon was having a hard time reading his twin these days.

“What really happened last night?” he asked Brendon when he joined him in the living room after tossing the banana peel into the trash.

“I f*cking lost it,” Brendon said, his voice calmer than before.

“Who’s the lucky bastard with the f*cked-up face?”

Brendon glared at him and that piqued his curiosity.

“Dalton Calhoun,” Brendon finally said, sounding somewhat remorseful.

“Are you f*cking serious?”

“Yeah, but he’s fine. I’m the one who ended up with a f*cked-up face. I didn’t hit him.”

“What?” Braydon exclaimed. “He hit you?”

“Not exactly.”

Braydon’s muscles tensed. The idea of anyone attacking his brother brought out a side of him that he rarely connected with. Sure, he’d been front and center to many fist fights over the years. In the small town they lived in, guys lined up to take a shot at him and his brothers. Mostly his brothers. But Braydon wasn’t one to back down from anyone.

When Brendon didn’t clarify, Braydon opted for a different tack. “Zane told me that Dalton, Cheyenne, and Cooper are going on tour together.”

“Did he also tell you that she’s with him?”

“With him with him?” Braydon asked.

Brendon’s expression—the one that said Are you really that dense?—made Braydon feel like an idiot.

“No, he didn’t mention it.”

“Well, she’s not.”

Okay, now Braydon was really f*cking confused.

“She’s not with him?”

“No. Dalton told me not to believe everything I hear or read where he’s concerned. Apparently, the press likes to make up shit about celebrities.”

Well, that was just common sense, now wasn’t it? Braydon didn’t say as much though. It was obvious Brendon wasn’t in the mood for joking.

“Let me get this straight. Dalton and Cheyenne aren’t together, but they’re going on tour together. And somewhere during this enlightenment last night, you got hit in the face.”

“Yeah,” Brendon said, sounding defeated as he dropped into his chair.

“By who?”

“Does it matter?” Brendon retorted, albeit softly.

“It does if there’s some guy’s ass that I need to kick.”

Brendon looked up at him and laughed. A genuine laugh that wasn’t laced with apprehension.

“I was a dumbass,” Brendon told him. “I lost my shit when I saw them together. Just like always, I f*cked up.”

“What’s with all the self-deprecating bullshit?” Braydon asked defensively.

Brendon was silent for a minute, the hostility in the air rising once again. And when he started to speak, Braydon rested on the arm of the couch across the room.

“I’m the one who owes you an apology. I f*cked up. And I’m not looking for your f*cking pity. I don’t know what’s got into me lately.” Brendon paused and looked down at his hands before continuing. “I owe Jessie an apology, too.”