Page 19 of Legacy of Danger
Yeah. Time to come clean. Might be the end of his relationship with his brother. Hell, how much worse could it get? But he had to tell the entire story. "She'd tracked me down a few times in the barn, making suggestive comments. Little touches that were not consistent withsister-in-law." When he gulped, it was like swallowing glass shards. "One night, you were down in Rawlings working cattle sales. I'd been drinking, as usual. When I woke up, she was in my bed. Naked."
"Son of a bitch."
"It looked like we'd been... yeah." He paced in the too-small room, a comatose sister serving as second witness to his confession. "I don't remember any of it. I still can't believe that I did anything. With her. But I just don't know. She had taken pictures of us in bed together. Told me she'd use those pictures to break you and little Zach. Shit, it's my word against a dead woman's. But I think it was staged." His tongue tingled with the desire for something liquid and high proof to roll down his throat. "You don't have to speak to me again. You can punch me out cold, if it will help. But, God's honest truth, that's what I think happened."
Garrison sank into the vacated bedside chair and rested his elbows on his knees. "Damn."
"Yes. And no, I didn't encourage any of it. I might have been a drunken idiot, but I didn't lead her on. I swear."
His brother remained silent for the longest minute of Vaughn's miserable life.
"Do you still drink?"
"Nothing for over a year now. Not that I don't want it every single day."
Garrison flicked invisible dirt from his denim. "So you up and left. Because you were too chickenshit to deal with what had happened. Without explaining anything to us. To me."
"Figured it was better to cut myself off from this family than hurt it more. I'm sorry."
"Well, your leaving hurt us." Garrison's grim and lost expression when glanced up would haunt Vaughn for a long time.
"Damn it."
"I need time to deal with this new information, on top of the normal piles of crap waiting for me back at the ranch."
"I'm sor—"
"Stop saying that."
"Got it."
He shoved back to his feet and paced. "It's going to take a long time for me to trust you, man."
"I know. And I need to earn that trust back. I get it."
He welcomed Garrison's dude-hug and fist on the back like he'd been starved for this moment.
Vaughn went boneless as adrenaline seeped out of him. He wasn't innocent. Garrison wasn't over what had happened. But they were on the right path.
After more than a year of self-imposed exile, damn, it felt good to be at peace with his brother.
Long may it last.
* * *
After he left the hospital, Vaughn headed to his old gym, Bar None MMA, in Rock Springs, Wyoming. The ninety-minute drive in Kerr's truck did little to clarify his churning thoughts.
But once he went through a killer workout, those stress levels dropped. Sure took the edge off the hooch cravings. After an hour of beating up inanimate objects, he paced circles on the mats, cooling down.
"Man, you're cut," said one of the guys who had high-fived him when he entered.
"Good to see you, too, Marcus. Still fighting at lightweight?"
The wiry guy grinned. "Moved down to the featherweight trenches, 145 pounds or bust. I have a fight next weekend at the Owl Creek Casino in Lander. You want to come along?"
"Sure love to, but it depends on stuff going on back at the home front."
As the seven o'clock session got started, a few other acquaintances wandered over and shook hands or slapped Vaughn on the back. The gym. Hell, he loved the easy camaraderie. Like he had never left.
