He watched as she turned and stormed from the office. Then he surged to his feet. “The hell you say!”
Ty had temporarily forsaken pacing to stand at the bedroom window overlooking the carport. He had been there for a solid fifteen minutes.
Bluey's was closed; it had been closed for a while now. So where the hell was Kurstin?
Headlights swept the trees lining the green as a car rounded the curve down by the driving range. Straightening, Ty smoothed his hair but then slumped again when the vehicle turned off before reaching the complex containing his townhouse.
Dammit, she had said she'd be back to spend the night, so why wasn’t she here? He wanted to find out what happened at the bar tonight. Besides, it was late and the roads were dark and deserted at this hour of the morning.
What the hell was keeping her?
Jon-Michael caught up with Hayley in the living area. She stood at the window leading to the fire escape, her back to the room as she stared out at the dim pools of illumination cast by the street lights stretching down Davis Drive. Her spine was rigid and her face without expression when he caught her by the elbow and spun her around. "What the hell is that supposed to mean, I haven't changed a bit?" he demanded.
She twisted her elbow free of his grip. "It means you still run away the minute you’re faced with a problem. God forbid Jon-Michael Olivet should ever stick around long enough to deal with one of his messes."
He reared up, fury driving him several steps closer until he towered over her. "That's bullshit."
"If you say so."
"Damn straight I say so. It is total bullshit. You don't have the first idea how I have handled the problems that arose at work between Dad and me, so where the hell do you get off telling me I’ve dealt with them by running away?" He looked her up and down. Then he nodded. "Oh. I get it. We aren't talking about the proposal any longer, are we, Hayley? You're referring to the way I handled that whole fuck-up I made of our night by the lake." She merely looked at him and he said furiously, "I tried to talk to you about it! For years I tried, every damn time I saw you."
"You came to my house once!" Stabbing her fingers into his chest, she gave a shove, but he didn't budge. "One lousy time you tried, and then you took off for college and never looked back."
"The hell you say!"
"No, the hell you say, Jon-Michael! If we happened to be thrown together, if we had to be in the same room after that night, you would put on that Mr. Personality dog-and-pony show you're so good at and offer up some slick, facile apology. But you never once made a serious attempt to get me to listen—"
"What was I supposed to do, tie you up and gag you so I could say my piece without you screaming me down or slamming the door in my face?"
"Oh, hell no. That would have taken too much effort."
"Jesus!" Frustrated and furious, he smacked his palm against the window’s wooden casing beside Hayley's head. He glared down at her, breathing heavily.
She barely even flinched. "The only time you attempted an apology was if I was already somewhere you were and it was convenient," she continued implacably and with a bitterness she had honestly believed long forgotten. "Then—and I will give you this, Johnny—you could certainly blather on with the best of them. But I have news for you, bud. Charm only goes so far when you don't back it up with any real effort. And not once did you exert yourself to make me comprehend why you had done what you did."
Whipping her hair back with her forearm, she blew out a ragged breath. "You never went out of your way to do that. You never explained how you could have made love to me, how you could have told me you loved me, only to turn around and give the entire soccer team a blow by blow description of me losing my cherry."
"I was ashamed!" he yelled, moving as if to slap the casement again. Pulling his hand back before it made contact, he scrubbed both palms across his face until his cheeks stretched. Then, hands dropping to his side, he stared down at her. "Christ," he said hoarsely. "I was all but paralyzed by shame, okay? I didn't know what to say to set things right."
"So you took the easy way out and didn't say anything at all. And you are still taking the easy way."
"You don't know the first damn thing about it."
"I know that when you're in doubt, you walk away. I know you haven't had to fight for a thing in your life."
"I haven't had to...?” He heard himself parroting her words and broke off, swearing roundly. Then he braced both hands on the casement, caging her in and bending over her until they were eyeball to eyeball. "Let me tell you something, sister," he said between his teeth. "I have fought every single day of the past thirteen years to stay sober. I have fought not to be the irresponsible little shit I was then. I was a self-absorbed eighteen-year-old budding alcoholic who messed up your life in a big way, and for that I am sorrier than you will ever know. And when it came to making a choice between straightening things out with you or getting myself clean and sober, I freely admit I chose to fix me.
“Do you think you are the only person in the world to have trouble come knocking at your door, Hayley? Maybe we have never had a killer turn our lives upside down, but you were there with Kurstie and me after Mom died, and you know damn well being rich did not guarantee us a charmed existence. Your old man may have taken off, but at least your mother was there to cheer you on in any endeavor you were involved in. We had a father who was too fucking busy to just once watch his son play sports or see his daughter act in a school play." He stood over her, sucking in and expelling ragged breaths. "So I drank and generally acted like an asshole, and Kurstin married the first sweet-talker who offered to take her away from it all. Neither was a winning solution."
Hayley blinked warily when Jon-Michael calmed down as abruptly as he had erupted, speculation gathering in his dark eyes. He studied her closely. His right hand slid away from the window casing to fiddle with a lock of her hair. He wrapped it around his middle finger, stretched it out and rubbed his thumb over the shiny strands.
"What about you?" he asked in a voice so smooth it made the hair on her nape stand on end in alarm. "Since you're so hot to exorcise private demons, why don't we sit down and get cozy while you tell me all about your feelings on the death penalty.”
Her heart gave a tremendous thump. Simultaneously, the doorbell pealed, and with a growl of frustration rumbling low in his throat, Jon-Michael unwound the curl from his finger, pushed back and went to answer the summons.
She blew out a soft breath of relief. Saved by the bell might be a cliché but she would grab her reprieves where she could.
Kurstin breezed into the main room of the loft, pumped up on success and adrenaline. "I can't think of any other creatures quite so easy to bamboozle as city folks convinced they’re dealing with a country rube," she said with a grin, tossing her purse on the coffee table. Shoulders rocking, she punched the air overhead with pointing index fingers and wiggled her hips in a little victory dance. Brought up short, however, by the palpable wall of tension hovering between Hayley and her brother, she dropped her arms back to her side.