“Get out!” Damen roared. “You think you’re so much better than me. Well, not anymore. I’m doing things my way now!”
“You’re making a mistake, Damen.”
With a roar, Damen shoved him. He stumbled back but caught his balance. Damn it. He was going to make his brother listen.
Charging, he shoved Damen and sent him crashing into the table. Chairs tipped over as his body fell.
“You’re coming with me.” Demarco bent to lift his brother off the floor and then threw him toward the door. “And you’re going to straighten your life out if I have to institutionalize you!”
“You’d do that, too, wouldn’t you?” He scrambled to his feet. “Mr. Perfect that you are.” He crashed into him.
Demarco slammed against a wall and couldn’t block Damen’s punch to his stomach. Bent over, he was kneed by Damen next. He staggered away from the wall and blocked another punch, but missed the next to his face. He fell backward onto his backside. Tasting blood, he watched his brother breathing hard, his hair a mess, his eyes bloodshot.
When he didn’t come after him again, Demarco climbed to his feet, holding his stomach. Screw this. He went to his jacket.
“What are you going to do?” his brother asked.
Wincing as he put his jacket on, Demarco only looked at his brother, a stranger to him now. Then he turned and left.
Chapter 6
The blizzard still raged into early afternoon the following day. Korbin had ventured out to open one of the wood planks over the window so he could see the snow. All that had done was cake the window in snow. He turned to see Savanna playing a game of solitaire. They’d started with a game of chess last night and another this morning, followed by a few card games.
She really was the type who needed to stay busy. And for her, the best “busy” was entertainment or crafts. He’d fallen into the sight of her animated face, her smiles and the happy, contented glow in her impossibly blue eyes. Her occasional laughs.
Too much time was passing. He had to get off this mountain. Get what he could on Damen and then prove his innocence. Not reveal things about himself that he never revealed to anyone. His wife’s death. Had he ever spoken of her like that to anyone? No. It hurt too much. He’d almost confessed everything to Savanna. All the details of Niya’s death. Almost. Her evasiveness about her fiancé stopped him, and he was at odds with himself over why.
Maybe because he never did talk about his wife. He kept it bottled up. While some would argue that wasn’t healthy, neither was the agony of her absence, the effect of it. Savanna buried her pain just as he did. They were silent sufferers. Savanna’s preference not to air her torment had enabled him to do the same. But there was a nagging realization that Savanna, someone who understood his struggle with loss, would listen with a sympathetic and nonjudgmental ear if he chose to unload some of his burden. And perhaps she could unload some of hers, because he would know to only listen and not push for too much information. He had a feeling they could help each other. Did she sense the same?
Korbin harbored more than Niya’s death, though. His pain included Niya’s daughter. Fallon Ellgard was from a previous relationship and refused to talk to him. He’d tried several times after Niya died. He’d succeeded only once before the funeral, when Fallon had accused him of killing her mother. She’d stood far apart from him at the service, and he hadn’t forced his presence on her. After trying a few more times after that, he’d decided to give her some time to get over her mother’s death.