"Nope." Deacon punched the elevator button and leaned against the wall. "Fuck, I'm tired."
"Molly keep you up all night?"
Deacon scowled at him.
"Not the kiss-and-tell type. Gotta respect that." Tag leaned next to him. "How was Molly this morning?"
"I imagine she was fine. Why?"
"Imagine? Weren't you with her at the hotel?"
"No. I had to deal with the fallout after confronting Julianne and Dad. It took longer than I expected." The details weren't something he wanted to share with his cousin.
Tag stepped in front of him. "But you were with Molly last night? After the party?"
He narrowed his eyes. "Why're you bein' so fucking nosy about where I was?"
"Answer the question, Deacon."
"No. I didn't go back to the hotel last night. Like I said, some shit came to a head with my folks. Dad refused to go home. Then, when I went to find Molly to tell her what was going on, she'd already left. When I returned to Dad, he'd decided to down half a bottle of Jameson. He demanded I bring him here to his office. Then he spent an hour puking his guts out. Freaked me out, so I ended up staying with him." And after his twenty-mile run, his lack of sleep the night before, the stress with the fight, finding out about Warren, the board meeting shit, it was more like he passed out when he hit the couch in the reception area upstairs at one a.m. "Why?"
"When was the last time you talked to Molly?"
"Before the thing went down with my folks."
"How did she seem then?"
Fucking questions. "What do you mean, how did she seem?"
"Was she upset? Mad? Still crying?"
"Why was she crying?" His gut clenched. In that moment he knew he'd fucked up yet again.
Tag loomed over him. "From what I saw, you left her alone almost the whole goddamn night at the club, and then you didn't bother to tell her what was going on between you and your parents. Then Clive got his hooks into her, so why the fuck do you think she was crying, douche bag?"
"What did Clive say to her?"
"He said by you talking to her about a possible board vote, you violated your confidentiality agreement and he'd see you thrown off the board."
"I'd fucking welcome that," he snarled.
"But Molly doesn't know that, does she? She thinks she screwed that up for you."
Fear began to form thorns in his stomach.
"You wanna hear what she said to me when I saw her waiting for a cab? 'Now I know where I stand with him, Tag. Behind him, not beside him.'"
Deacon inhaled and unclenched his fists. "I am one man. Yesterday and last night I was pulled in three different directions."
"And none of them pulled you toward her? Then you're an even bigger idiot than I imagined."
Rage and shame filled him. In his frustration, he turned to punch the wall.
But Tag stepped forward and then crumpled inward when his belly absorbed the impact of Deacon's fist.
"Why did you do that?" Deacon demanded, taken aback.
"The wall is cement, dipshit," he wheezed. "You would've broken your fucking hand."
"So you took one for the team?"
"I've got an iron gut." Tag winced when he stood up straight. "You aren't thinking clearly. You haven't been since you stepped boots in Texas."
"You have the fucking balls to say that to me? You're the goddamn one pushing me to be here to support you on this 'sell JFW' bullshit." And now that Deacon knew his dad had Warren as an heir? No fucking way would he take Warren's future from him. "Officially, I'm no longer backing you, Tag. Selling isn't the answer, and you know it."
Tag scrubbed his hands over his face. "I know. Hearing Uncle Bing speak yesterday . . . I figured it'd be an uphill battle. Now I'm sorry I pushed you. I didn't mean to set you at odds with your dad, D. The truth is, nothing is gonna change with JFW in the immediate future, so go deal with what you can change. Don't fuck up your fight career because you fucked up with her. Just go fix it."
Deacon turned and ran toward the door. He didn't stop even when Tag yelled, "You're welcome."
* * *
FIFTEEN minutes later Deacon sat on the bed in their hotel room, Molly's note in his hand.
Deacon,
You didn't come back to the hotel last night. While I understand you had family matters on your mind, I at least deserved the courtesy of a phone call.
Fuck.
I don't know what's going on with your parents, with your board position and future at JFW, or what your plans are for after the Watson fight. I won't berate you for keeping me on the sidelines of your decisions, but I can't take this anymore either. I've gone back to Denver, where I belong. You have too many things on your mind and too much going on in your life right now to make our relationship a priority. That's not a judgment call from me, but the truth.