“I don’t think so,” she said softly. Her throat tightened. “He was very . . . distant.”

“Morgan, today is the sixth anniversary of his mother’s death,” Sydney said quietly. “She died in a horrific car accident.”

Morgan sucked in her breath. “I didn’t know.”

“Cal doesn’t like to talk about it. The thing is, they found out she was running away with another man. They both died in the crash. Cal and Dalton and Tristan never got over the betrayal.”

Her mind spun. The way Cal seemed tired and disengaged today. The raw emotion whenever he spoke about his mother, and his refusal to discuss the circumstances of her death. The pieces clicked together, and emotion surged. Morgan had been so focused on herself, she’d never noticed the ache in his eyes. “Is he with his brothers?”

“I don’t know. They’ve been separated for five years, so I’m not sure if they’ll be together tonight.”

“Do you have any idea where he’d be?”

“No. Maybe at home. Or some bar. He wouldn’t want to see anyone he knows.”

“I’ll call and then go to his house first. Thanks for telling me, Sydney.”

“You’re welcome. You’re good for him, Morgan. He seems . . . whole with you.”

They hung up, and Morgan immediately shot him a text. Then a call that went straight to voice mail. Grabbing her purse and her keys, she decided to head to his house first.

She had to find him.

chapter eighteen

Dude, what are you doing here?”

Cal looked up. The Jack was finally doing its job, and a delicious fog softened all the hard edges. He squinted and focused on the familiar figure next to him. A short bark of laughter escaped his lips. “Hey, little brother. Fancy seeing you here.”

Dalton slid onto the bar stool next to him. He shook his head and picked up the half-empty bottle. “Started without me, huh?” His wavy hair was twisted back in a ridiculous man bun, and his face looked a bit haggard. “Well, I guess I better catch up.”

Cal dragged his bottle back across the bar. “Get your own bottle.”

Dalton shook his head and lifted his hand to motion to the bartender. She came strolling over with pure disdain, like he was an annoyance for wanting a drink. Yeah, he was beginning to like her.

“I’ll have a matching bottle,” Dalton said. His youngest brother flicked his gaze over the hot girl. “Nice tat. What’s your name, gorgeous? Mine’s Dalton.”

Her scowl grew deeper. “None of your business. You related to him?” She jerked a thumb at Cal.

“Yep. He’s my brother. But you’ll like me better.”

Cal smothered a snort at Dalton’s smooth lines. His charm was epic, but this woman only looked annoyed. “I don’t like either of you. Keys.”

Surprise shot over his face. Dalton wasn’t used to women ignoring him. Cal raised his glass in another salute to Hot Girl’s prickly attitude. “She don’t like you, Dalton. Deal with it.”

Dalton handed over his keys and smirked. “Give me some time, dude.”

The bartender slid over a bottle and a shot glass, then poured them both a glass of water. “No attitude or puking in my bar,” she warned. Then floated over to her other customers while Dalton watched her like a wolf on a starvation diet.

Cal rolled his eyes. “Really? Do you have to bang every girl you ever meet?”

Dalton poured a shot and tipped it back. “Nah, just ninety-five percent.”

“How’d you find me?”

Dalton shook his head. Some of the sarcasm drifted away. “Wasn’t trying. Just needed a place to drink and get through the rest of the night.”

“Yeah, me too.” They sat in silence for a while, listening to the soothing sounds of a bar crowd. “It never gets easier. Does it?”

“Nope.”

“Is it worse being here? Where it happened?”

Dalton peered into his shot glass like it held the answers. “Nope. I was halfway across the country, and I still kept seeing her face in that fucking coffin, while Dad pretended he didn’t give a shit she was gone.”

“Yeah.”

They drank. Cal admitted the presence of his brother next to him eased the tightness a little. Usually it was only him and the demons. Having somebody who understood gave some comfort.

“Where do you think Tristan went tonight?” Dalton asked.

A voice rang out. “Right here with you boneheads.”

Cal swiveled his head around. Tristan stood by the door, glaring at them as if they’d taken his own personal bar space. He shook his head in pure disgust and sat down on the third stool. “Out of all the bars in all the world, you have to be in mine.”

“This is kinda weird,” Dalton announced. “Did you know we’d be here?”

Tristan snorted. “No, I thought I was being smart by coming here. Thought I wouldn’t see anyone. I’m in a shit mood.”

“Join the Jack club,” Cal said.

Hot Girl came over and wrinkled her nose in disdain. “Don’t even tell me you know these two.”

Tristan gave a polite smile. “They’re my brothers. I’ll have what they’re having.”

The bartender scowled. “I don’t have another bottle of Jack. You’ll have to share.” She slid a shot glass over and put out her hand. “I need your keys.”

“I don’t drive intoxicated,” Tristan said.

“And I don’t care. Give me your keys.”

Dalton grinned. “You are really hot.”

“And you’re not.”

Cal and Tristan gave a hoot of laughter. The keys dropped in her outstretched hand and she added them to her famous glass jar. “Your brothers will tell you the rules.” She turned and dismissed them with a shake of her long hair.

Tristan leaned over. “What rules?”

“No fighting or puking,” Cal said. “Or she’ll kick our asses.”

Dalton stared at her. “That would be one delicious ass kicking.”

Tristan poured himself a shot glass and sipped.

“Thought you were more of a vino guy,” Cal commented.

Tristan turned. His amber eyes brimmed with emotion and demons. “Not today.”