Tangled Love

Chapter Nineteen

Morgan paced across the hardwood floor of Brandon's living room. The surface felt cool beneath her bare feet, but didn't soothe her searing thoughts.

"You're going to wear out the floor, little sister." She flipped a gaze at Brandon over her shoulder.

"Doubtful."

"Okay, then you're going to wear yourself out. It's barely been a week since you were shot."

"I've got to move around or I'm going to get stiff." He sat back on the sofa, legs spread, elbows propped across the back. "I might buy that if it looked like mere exercise. This is nervous pacing. What's eating at you?"

Morgan didn't answer. Admitting the truth was too painful, made her look too stupid.

"Nothing," she finally murmured.

Brandon rose to his feet, until he towered over her. He'd definitely gotten the tall genes in the family, damn him. She was amidget by Hollywood's standards.

He grabbed her shoulders and turned her to face him, effectively ending her agitated waltz across the floor. "I've seen you obsess about Turn Me On in the past. What you're thinking about today has nothing to do with that, though, does it? Reggie has apologized for selling you out. Andrew's funeral was conducted with a minimum of hype, and the press has no idea where you are. Already the gossip is dying down. You're healing nicely." His gentle stare probed. "I can only think of one thing that would make you this crazy right now. Or should I say one person?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"You haven't wanted to talk about Jack since you left the hospital."

Morgan closed her eyes. "Don't say his name." "You're being stubborn, little sister."

"I'm being stubborn?" She poked herself in the chest with an angry finger. "Excuse me, but I didn't start this shit. He did. But now I'm supposed to live with it."

"Live with what, exactly?" Brandon crossed his arms over his chest. "He shot and killed a man who would have ended your life without blinking."

That's it? That's all he acknowledged? "Yes, he saved me, and I'm grateful. But did you forget the little part where he lied to me and took me to bed to get back at you? He sent you a film clip of—" She gnashed her teeth. "I still can't believe that. He..." How the hell could she put the betrayal into words? "He acted like I meant something. None of that act was true."

"I think it was."

Morgan felt her jaw drop. "Why are you taking up for him?"

Brandon shot her a self-deprecating smile. "We used to be friends, until I fucked it up. Jack wasn't going to divorce Kayla without a good reason. Despite his...lifestyle, he was too Catholic. I pushed Kayla. And pushed and pushed. God, I wanted that woman. The one thing I never did was level with Jack and just tell him I was in love with his wife. And that she was in love with me. I just took her, and I didn't care how wretched he felt because holding her made me feel better. I think he was just repaying the favor, little sister, letting me see how it felt to be on the receiving end. If you should be pissed at anyone, it's me."

"Do you have any idea what he did to me? At all?" "I hate to say this, but when I barged into that hotel room, you didn't look like you were suffering too much."

Morgan flushed twenty shades of red, she was sure, from both fury and embarrassment. "It wasn't the way he touched me."

Though, at times, that had been hard to take, to accept how much she loved it. "It was the way he pretended to care."

A sudden knock on the door sent them both turning.

Brandon cursed under his breath, then moved to open it. "God, I hope it's not the press," she muttered. "Vultures." Brandon cracked the door open, only as far as the security chain allowed. "What?"