Page 57 of Trails of Temptation

Three days had passed.

Grant was scarce during that time. I hadn’t realized how much George actually did for the ranch until his absence started to seep into my bones and not only affected me but everyone who lived and worked on the ranch. Randy was insanely busy, and Grant was busy picking up George’s slack.

Moira hadn’t been feeling well, so I was busy too, and I was thankful for it. Maybe it was selfish of me to be using my sick, heavily pregnant friend as a way to keep my mind off of George, but there wasn’t much I could do.

He’d tried to call me and I’d ignored him, screening his call and then turning off my phone completely. It was obvious to me now, after everything, that I’d been right about George. I’d been right about Pete, too. I got between them, thinking my love for George was enough for both of them to come to terms with allowing me to step into their bond… I’d been wrong. I’d ruined their friendship and that had had unforgivable consequences on both sides.

Night was falling when I wrapped up the after-dinner dishes and started spraying down the kitchen counters. I heard Day and Grant bickering over Day staying up late again tonight. Day had been a bit withdrawn over the last few days. He was a big fan of George and us adults had been leaving him in the dark about the situation, but I was sure he’d heard the rumors from the younger ranch hands he followed around every day. Plus, Moira had been in bed for three days straight, taking her meals upstairs instead of at the table with the rest of the family.

Our worry over her overshadowed my broken heart.

“She’s only thirty-six weeks along,” Grant said to me thirty minutes later.

I leaned against the kitchen counter, my arms crossed over my chest as I looked up at him and noticed the hard lines of his face. He was exhausted.

“What did her doctor say at her appointment today?” I asked, toying with the untouched bottle of beer I’d taken out of the fridge but didn’t have the nerve to drink like I’d planned.

“They want to try to get her and the baby to thirty-seven weeks before they make a decision about delivering. It’s safer for the baby that way, but Moira is… I’ve never seen her like this before. I barely recognize her.”

Moira had been slowly losing her strength, and it was killing all of us. But, in a very Moira fashion, she didn’t give a shit what anyone thought about it and insisted she was fine, even though we all could tell she was tired and in a good deal of pain.

“Her body just wants the baby out and there’s nothing we can do to stop it.”

“She’s so close to being full term,” I assured him, trying to smile past my own anxiety. “Just another week, right?”

“Just another week,” he repeated with an exhale. His eyes flicked up to mine and he gave me a sympathetic smile. “George should be back by then, too.”

“I doubt it, Grant,” I said, turning away from him.

He left the kitchen and I waited until I heard the door to his bedroom close before I grabbed my purse off the kitchen table and walked out to my truck.

I needed to get out for a minute, even if it was just to drive around and clear my head, but I soon found myself pulling up to Pete’s bar, looking up at the lights on in the apartment upstairs. The bar itself was booming, so I parked in the back alley and made my way up the stairs.

I wasn’t sure why, but I needed to talk to him. I needed him to actually hear what I had to say to him, even if it were to just apologize for coming between him and everything he loved.

I knocked on the door and heard someone walking in the hallway over the sound of the music coming from the bar. Pete opened it, a shocked look on his face. For a moment I thought he was going to close it in my face.

I opened my mouth but the words I’d meant to say stuck in my throat, which tightened and ached painfully as I looked up into my brother’s eyes.

Then, I burst into tears, coming totally undone.

* * *

“I was a real shithead to you, Keels,” he said, sighing as he poured a heavy glass of wine for me and himself. “I didn’t mean what I said.”

“I think you might have, just a little bit.”

Pete pursed his lips, nostrils flaring as he set the bottle on the kitchen island and met my gaze. “Sure, maybe a little. But those feelings I have… They have nothing to do with you. I guess I was a little jealous of you growing up, that’s all. Mom and Dad went through a whole lot of shit because of what Dad did and I was angry about it for a while. Angry at him for doing that to Mom. Angry at her for forgiving him. Angry at them both for acting like nothing was wrong when the whole town was talking about them for years. I was never angry at you for—for beingalive.”

“But you’re angry at me for George.”

“Yeah, of course.”

He walked over with the wine and set my glass on the coffee table in front of me. He sat opposite me, his legs splayed and his elbows resting on his knees with his hands knitted together under his chin. He still looked like hell—deep purple bruising still lingering under his eyes and fading into a pale green that turned my stomach a bit.

“I was always under the assumption that little sisters don’t fuck their brother’s best friends.”

“Well, this goes a lot further than that,” I said, wincing a bit as I picked up my glass and drank deeply.

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