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Great! Fantastic! He’d spent a good part of the last eleven hours on the red eye from LA nursing a blistering headache and letting his anger stew. If his brother was spoiling for a fight he was more than happy to oblige.
‘I don’t need your invitation to speak to the woman who’s carrying my child.’ He ground the words out. Whatever issues his brother had could damn well wait.
‘Think again,’ Connor shot back, the steely determination in his face brooking no argument. ‘She’s not here.’ He shoved a door open and pointed inside a darkened room. ‘Now stop shouting, get in there and calm the hell down or you won’t get to speak to her at all.’
Sure he could feel the steam pumping out of his ears, he stalked into the room Connor had indicated. What right did his brother have to treat him like a sulky child? As soon as he got Juno’s whereabouts out of the sanctimonious bastard he was going to give him both barrels.
‘Sit down,’ Connor ordered, pointing to the leather couch.
Mac folded his arms and stood his ground. ‘Say what you’ve got to say and then tell me where she is.’
‘Sit the hell down, before I throw you down,’ Connor shouted back.
His hands bunched into fists until his knuckles whitened. But after a second’s debate, he cursed loudly and sat on the sofa. Beating the crap out of Connor wasn’t going to help him find Juno. More’s the pity.
‘So what is it you want?’ he snarled, then realised he sounded like a sulky child.
Damn it.
‘I want to know what kind of man you are. That’s what.’ Connor sneered, his eyes narrowing. ‘I want to know what kind of man has unprotected sex with a woman, then doesn’t even have the decency to find out if he’s got her pregnant or not.’
It wasn’t like that.
He wanted to yell back, the injustice of Connor’s accusations making his head throb and his stomach revolt. But the guilt that had followed him around for most of his life choked the words off in his throat.
‘You know what kind of man I am,’ he said, his voice cracking. ‘Do you think I don’t know what you think of me? What you’ve always thought of me, ever since we were lads together in that stinking hole. You think I’m a selfish, irresponsible bastard. I get it.’ He sunk his head into his hands, to release the screaming tension in his shoulders.
Anyone who said confession was good for the soul didn’t know what the hell they were talking about.
‘I’ll grant you, that was true then,’ he continued, forcing the words past lips dry as a desert. ‘But it’s not true any more.’ He raised his head to meet Connor’s eyes. ‘I want Juno back. I think I’m in love with her.’ He blew out a breath, the words taking him by surprise. ‘That’s why I’m here.’
It took him a moment to realise the contempt in Connor’s face had turned to astonishment.
‘You think I blame you for what happened? When we were kids?’
‘I know you do,’ he replied. ‘That’s why it was your wife invited me to the wedding and not you.’ Why was Connor prolonging the agony?
‘Mac, that’s ridiculous.’ He sat down, settled his hand on Mac’s shoulder. ‘I never thought any such thing. I always thought it was me to blame. If I hadn’t gone out that night. If I hadn’t been so determined to keep it all a secret. We could have got help. I could have stopped him.’
‘But you told the social worker you never wanted to see me again after we were split.’ Could it really be true? That his brother didn’t hate him after all?
‘Because I felt so ashamed,’ Connor replied. ‘I saw you that night on the stretcher, unconscious, your face all bruised and bloody, your arm cut up and bent out of shape. I co
uldn’t get it out of my head. You were my little brother, barely ten years old. I should have been there to protect you and I wasn’t. It crucified me for years.’ Connor shook his head, the bitter regret in his voice releasing something black and ugly inside Mac and setting it free at last. ‘Until I met Daisy and she made me see, it wasn’t our fault, it was his and the things the drink did to him.’
He pulled Mac into a brief one-armed hug.
‘I should have told you years ago. And you’re right, it should have been me invited you to the wedding,’ he murmured against Mac’s ear before letting him go. ‘But I was too much of a damn coward. I’m sorry, Mac.’
Mac saw the genuine love in Connor’s eyes and realised he’d found his brother again. In fact he’d never even lost him. He drew in a sharp breath through his nose. Perilously close to making an idiot of himself.
‘Apology accepted,’ he murmured. ‘But we best stop this now, or we’re going to start weeping all over each other like a couple of girls. And I don’t know about you, but I’ve an image to protect.’
Connor chuckled. ‘Don’t give me that—you’re an actor. Don’t you cry all the time?’
Mac raised an eyebrow. ‘Keep it up, pal, and I’ll have to hurt you.’
Connor just laughed, the low amused sound reminding Mac of their relationship as boys. Connor always determined to look for the best in everything and him always brooding about what would go wrong. He’d missed having him in his life.
