Chapter Eight

Dalton

F irst thing the next morning, I pull through the wrought-iron gates of my grandfather's estate, my heart pounding. I'm not fucking ready to face him again, but I can't hide from the old man forever. We need to resolve our shit, one way or another, and Tempest belongs here, not in a hotel.

She squirms in her seat beside me, her nervousness palpable. "Are you sure about this, Dalton?" she asks. "We don't have to do this yet."

"I'm positive," I say, my voice firm. "You're my wife. You belong here with me, not in a hotel." Though truthfully, I don't intend for us to be here long. As soon as shit is sorted with the old man, we're flying to California to deal with her family.

I have no fucking clue how we're going to run companies that are half a continent away from each other but figuring that out is high on my list of things to do. I won't be sleeping without her. If we have to split time between Grady Records and Evernight, then that's what we'll do. I'll work from anywhere so long as it means falling asleep with her in my arms every night.

As I pull up the long drive, I see Dorothy, our housekeeper, waiting on the porch, and I frown. What the fuck? Her face is pale, lines of anxiety carved around her kind eyes as she hurries down the steps to meet us.

Ice trickles into my veins.

"Who is she?" Tempest asks.

"Dorothy, our housekeeper." I pull to a stop at the head of the driveway and climb out of the SUV, meeting her halfway. "Dorothy? What's wrong?"

"Oh, Dalton." She throws her arms around me, hugging me fiercely. I stiffen in surprise before curling an arm around her. Dorothy has never been the hugging type, at least not with me. She saves all of that shit for Lena, who eats it up.

"It's Mr. Denver," she says, her voice trembling. "The ambulance just left with him."

"Ambulance?" The world tilts dangerously beneath my feet. "What are you talking about? What happened?"

"I've been trying to call you," she says, wringing her hands. "I found Mr. Denver collapsed in his bathroom this morning. I think…I think he had a stroke, Dalton."

Maybe it's time for you to mind your own damn business, go to hell, and butt out of my fucking life.

My words slam into me and the world tilts again. I sway on my feet. Dark spots swim before my eyes as panic claws at my throat. No. Christ, no. Not again. I can't lose someone else, not like this. The last goddamn thing I said to him…

I can't fucking breathe.

I hate you! I wish were you dead.

Go to hell and butt out of my fucking life.

That fucking argument with my parents mixes with the argument with my grandfather, creating a riptide threatening to drag me under. I can't think through it. I can't breathe through it. I'm just fucking drowning on dry land.

Right up until Tempest places her hand on my arm, pulling me out of the dark. Anchoring me.

I look down at her, my chest heaving. "Tempest, I…" The words stick in my throat. I don't know how to fucking explain.

But I don't have to explain. Not to her. "Go," she whispers, cupping my cheek, understanding shining in those amber eyes that see right fucking through me. "Go to him. I'll be right here waiting for you."

I jerk my head in a nod, dragging her into my arms. My mouth comes down on hers in a desperate kiss. I pour everything I feel for her into it—down to my goddamn soul. That's hers. It's been hers all along.

And then I wrench myself away, rushing back to the car, praying to fucking God that I don't lose the old man. That the last words I ever get to say to him weren't coated in rage and hurled in defiance.

Please God, don't let me be too late…

I pace the sterile hospital hallway, my heart jackhammering against my ribs. The cloying scent of sickness and grief coats the back of my throat, threatening to choke me.

Guilt gnaws at me like a rabid, ravenous beast. He had a fucking stroke because I pushed him too far. Because I'm a stubborn asshole who never learns. We never should have been arguing like we were. He's too goddamn old for this shit. If I lose him…

Christ. I'll never forgive myself.

A nurse hurries past, and I practically lunge in front of her, forcing her to stop. I've been here for an hour already, and no one will tell me a fucking thing. I'm sick of it.

She blinks up at me.

"My grandfather, Denver Grady," I growl. "Is there any word?"

"Oh." She glances down the hallway. "Um, the doctor should be out to talk to you soon, Mr. Grady."

"Everyone keeps saying that," I grit out, shoving my hands through my hair. "But no one will tell me a goddamn thing."

Empathy shines in her green eyes. "I understand. Waiting is always the hardest part. But I promise you, he will be out soon."

I stare at her, not sure I believe that. But I'm not getting anything out of her…just like I didn't get anything out of the nurse who passed by fifteen minutes ago.

I sigh, stepping out of her way to let her by. She shoots me another look full of empathy and then scurries away.

I resume pacing. Worrying. Lost in a sea of fucking guilt and regret. Jesus Christ. I'm not supposed to be this man. I'm supposed to be one worthy of Tempest. And yet…here I fucking am, as big an asshole as ever. The old man is in a bed somewhere in this goddamn emergency room because of me.

And he was right. None of this is what my parents would have wanted for me. Tempest is what they would have wanted. Love and happiness is what they would have chosen for me. It's what they always wanted for me—what they had.

Now, I have it. And it's fucking terrifying. But the only thing more terrifying than loving her…is losing her.

I can't do that. I have to fix my shit. That's the man she deserves. Not half of one. Not pieces of one. Not one clinging to the past or shackled by guilt.

Starting today, right fucking now, that's what she's getting.

Footsteps sound behind me and I wheel around. A doctor in scrubs heads toward me, wariness etched into every line of his face. "Dalton Grady?"

"How is he?" I rasp, my hands in fists at my side.

He stops in front of me…and he fucking smiles. For the first time in hours, I feel like I can breathe.

"He suffered a minor stroke, but your grandfather is going to be just fine, Mr. Grady," he says. "He's demanding that we release him, but we're going to be keeping him for a few days to keep an eye on him."

Relief crashes through me, nearly buckling my knees. I sag against the wall, sucking in a shaking breath. "Thank fucking Christ. Can I see him?"

"Of course. He's been asking for you." The doctor pauses, chuckling. "Actually, he's been demanding to see you since he was rolled through the doors. He's mad as hell that we wouldn't let you back there until we were done with our tests. Follow me."

I jerk my head in a nod, following him down the hall on wooden legs, seeing nothing.

He stops outside a door a few minutes later. "This is him. I'll let you two have some privacy and pop in later to check on him. Good luck," he says before strolling away.

I pause outside the door, taking a deep breath, and then step inside.

The old man looks small and frail in the hospital bed, as if he's aged fifteen years since yesterday. The left side of his wrinkled face droops slightly. His left hand trembles where it rests on the crisp white sheet.

But his gaze whips to mine, as sharp and assessing as ever.

"Don't make me get out of this fucking bed, kid," he rasps, his voice like crushed gravel. "It wasn't your fault, you hear me?"

My throat constricts painfully. I swallow hard, blinking back the hot sting in my eyes as I stare at him.

"What happened to your parents wasn't your fault either," he continues. "I never once blamed you. But all that goddamn guilt you're carrying around…you're going to end up old and alone just like me if you can't learn to let it go."

"I'm fucking trying," I manage to choke out.

"Try harder," he barks. "I didn't raise a coward. And if you can't give that girl your whole heart, then you don't deserve her."

"Jesus Christ." I scrub a hand over my face, shaken by how perfectly he has my own goddamn fears pegged. I've railed against him for years, swearing he didn't know a goddamn thing about me. It's fucking eerie to hear him tell me exactly how wrong I've been about that, like he knows me better than I know myself. "You just had a stroke. Aren't you supposed to be rainbows and kittens, grateful to be alive?"

"Hell no. Lena gets rainbows and kittens," he retorts. "You get a boot up your ass until you decide to dislodge your head."

A surprised laugh bursts from my lips. "Has anyone ever told you that you're an asshole?"

"You mean besides you? Your grandmother did, every damn day for twenty-five years." He falls quiet for a moment. "Best twenty-five years of my life." Emotion parades across his face, the tremor in his hand intensifying momentarily before he blinks. His gaze shifts across my face. "I want the same things for you and your cousin."

Emotion clogs my throat. I want that too, so fucking badly. All I think about anymore is a lifetime with Tempest, loving her for the rest of my life, worshipping her, being responsible for her every need, every whim.

"I'm afraid I'm going to fuck it up," I admit. "I don't know how to love her more than I already do."

I already love her to the depths of my soul. Is there something more than that? Some deeper level? If so, I might not survive finding it because she already consumes me every fucking minute of the day.

"Then you'd better learn," the old man says, his voice sharp. "Because I know that girl, and she won't settle for the broken pieces of your heart or half of it. She wants all of it. If you want to keep her, you better fight like hell, kid."

"Who says I'm not?" I ask, arching a brow at him. He's so sure I'm not fighting, but he doesn't have a clue. It's mildly infuriating that he knows me so well and doesn't know me at all at the same damn time.

"Bah, don't give me that shit," he growls. "We wouldn't be having this conversation if you were fighting. You'd know that you were putting your whole soul into it."

"Can we not fight today?" I ask, eyes narrowing on him. "You just had a stroke."

"Then it's a good day for you to stop being a pain in my ass, isn't it?" the old man retorts.

"Jesus Christ." I shake my head, holding up my hands. "You know what? I'm going to wait in the hall for Lena so you can rest."

"Good. While you're out there, hunt down that fucking doctor and tell him to let me out of here," the old man grumbles.

I sigh heavily, shaking my head again. No wonder Lena ran off to the mountains. If I'm half as stubborn as our grandfather, my baby cousin has been miserable as hell living with the two of us lately.

Well, not anymore. One way or another, that's changing.

The drive home from the hospital is a blur, my mind spinning. I'm fucking exhausted, but the old man is going to survive. And, for once, things don't feel so goddamn bitter between us.

My phone rings, jarring me from my thoughts. I glance at the screen in the dashboard, my brow lifting when I see Jake's name scrolling across the top. I just talked to him an hour ago.

"What's up?" I ask, hitting the button on the steering wheel to answer the call as I coast to a stop at a light.

"Checking in on the old man," he says. "How's he doing?"

I snort. "He's a stubborn pain in the ass, as usual."

It's nothing but the truth. He was even worse after Lena arrived, especially once he found out she's been holed up in the mountains with a fucking mountain man. I wasn't thrilled about that either. But I know Lena. She's as stubborn as the rest of us. If she thinks she's in love with the man, nothing I say is going to sway her. Frankly, I'm not even going to try.

Maybe a few days ago, I would have. But that was before Tempest. Before everything changed. Lena deserves happiness. If her fucking mountain man makes her happy, then I'll support it. But if he breaks her heart, I'll rip his out of his goddamn chest and feed it to him.

When the old man started in on me again, I gave up and left. It seemed like the safest way to keep the peace. Considering that he's in the hospital, there needs to be a whole lot more peace between us.

But fucking hell, he does not make it easy. He's convinced I'm not fighting for Tempest, when that's all I've done.

Jesus. I am doing that, aren't I?

Goddammit. Every time I deal with the old man, he gets my head all twisted up, makes me doubt what I thought I knew.

But I think the old bastard was right, damn him. I'm not fighting hard enough. Because she deserves to know every fucking word I haven't said to her.

Telling her scares the shit out me because words have the power to destroy. In the heat of anger, in a moment of passion, we say things, and everything fucking changes. Sometimes, for the better. In my life, it's always been for the worst.

But I don't get to hide behind that anymore. Not if I want to keep her. Because that's what loving her means—having faith that everything will be okay in the end. Trusting that I'm not going to fuck this up just by loving her. Telling her every damn day that she's the center of my world. Giving her every piece of a healed heart instead of the jagged pieces of a broken one.

That's how I fight. That's what she needs from me.

Jake chuckles. "So, he's going to be okay?"

"Yeah, he's going to be fine." I hit the gas as the light changes and the SUV rumbles through the intersection.

"Good deal. I'll hold down the fort here until you're back," Jake says.

"Right," I snort. The whole goddamn office will be on the verge of anarchy by the time I get back if I leave him in charge. "Leave the fucking company credit card alone, Jake."

"What? I can't hear you!"

I smile, shaking my head. Bastard. "Get off my phone."

"Wait!" Jake calls. "That information you asked for on Triton Evernight came in."

"Good." I sit up straighter, my grip tightening on the steering wheel. That motherfucker is up to something. I don't know what or why, but I'd stake my life on it. He's been nothing but venom and animosity since he found out that Tempest went through with the marriage. It's starting to royally piss me off. "Anything in it that I should know?"

The sound of shuffling papers echoes down the line. "Single, sleeps with everything that moves, party boy, yadda yadda yadda… Oh. That's interesting."

"What?" I growl, whipping around a red Camaro.

"The investigator left a note that says he spoke to someone who claims that Triton was confident Evernight would pass to him."

My brows pull down into a frown. "Why the fuck would it pass to him?"

"His source didn't say."

Is that why the prick is so pissed? He wanted this marriage arrangement to fail because he expected to inherit the company if it did?

Jesus Christ. Does Tempest know?

I snort. Do I even have to ask? Of course she knows. She knows everything about her company. But for some reason, she's not worried about it. I'm betting that's because he convinced her that he didn't want it, that he was on her side.

The manipulative prick.

"Look into it," I order Jake. "See if you can shake anything else loose."

"You expect trouble?" Jake asks, his tone serious.

I hesitate, not sure how to answer that. Do I think Triton is trouble? Absolutely. Do I think he may try to get his hands on Tempest's company? Fuck, yes. He's a prick. But do I think there's a chance in hell of him wresting control of Evernight from Tempest? Hell no. I'll bury him first.

"No," I finally say. "But I'd rather be prepared in case he decides to make a play for her company."

"I'll see what I can find out," Jake promises before disconnecting.

I drum my hands against the steering wheel. There's no fucking way Triton is taking the company from Tempest. I'll wage a goddamn war myself before I let that happen. No one is taking what belongs to her.

But Jesus Christ, I really don't want to have to tell her that her cousin isn't who she thinks he is. That'll break her heart into pieces. He's her best friend. And considering that I'm brand new in her life…well, without evidence, there's no fucking way she'll ever believe me over him. He's had a lifetime to earn her trust. She's still not entirely sure she can trust me.

This has the potential of destroying what little trust she has placed in me entirely.

"Fuck," I whisper, my hands shaking around the steering wheel. "Fucking fuck."

I pull up outside the mansion a few minutes later, my goddamn hand still shaking. But I know what I need to do. Right now, Triton doesn't matter. She does, and she's waited too fucking long already for me to get my shit together. It's the only fucking thing I can think about as I slam the SUV into park and bound out, jogging up the steps.

"Tempest!" I shout as soon as I'm through the door, my voice echoing through the massive foyer.

I catch sight of her rushing down the stairs toward me—so goddamn beautiful.

"Dalton." She launches herself into my arms as soon as she reaches the bottom of the stairs. "How's your grandfather? Is he okay?"

I swallow hard, unable to fucking breathe. Unable to speak.

Her eyes widen, worry clouding the amber depths when I don't say anything.

"He's fine, but I'm not." I press my forehead to hers, my heart fucking racing. Goddamn. My entire fucking body hums just because she's in my arms. Just because she's mine.

"What? What's wrong? Talk to me." Her soft fingers brush through my hair.

"I love you."

She blinks those long sooty lashes at me, tears welling in her eyes. "I love you too. I've loved you for so long."

Fuck. She said it last night when she was falling asleep, but hearing it when she's awake, when she knows what she's saying…that's perfection. But she still doesn't understand.

"No, baby." I shake my head. Or maybe I'm fucking shaking. I don't know. All I know is that I need her to understand, once and for all, exactly how I feel about her. I don't want the words written in Morse code against her skin. I want them ringing in her ears, living in her fucking soul. "I love you. I can't fucking sleep. I can't breathe without you, Tempest. You're in my blood, in my soul, consuming every goddamn piece of me. I love you ."

"Dalton." A tear spills down her cheek.

I thumb it away and then run my thumb over her pouty bottom lip, imagining it on my cock. Fucking hell. I need it. So goddamn badly. "I've been a fucking coward and haven't fought for you the way I should have, but that's done with, baby. I'm not going to let fear silence the truth anymore. I'm not going to let it be the thing that drives you from my arms."

"I'm not going anywhere, Dalton." She cups my cheeks, her eyes blazing with sincerity. "Do you hear me? I'm yours."

Fuck.

I slant my mouth down on hers, claiming her lips, stealing her breath. I need it in me, need her all over me. I want to crawl inside her, make a home for myself between her perfect thighs and never fucking leave.

She seems to have the same idea because her hands are all over me as she grinds against me, whimpering. My favorite word rolls from her lips as she writhes, squirming all over my cock. Please. Please. Please.

I stumble up the stairs with her in my arms, kissing her again and again. We bump into walls, knocking pictures off, but I don't fucking care. The only thing that matters is this— her .

When we finally make it to our room, I don't leave her body for hours. And with every thrust, every orgasm, I press my lips to her ear and whisper the truth.

I love her.

Christ, I'm so fucking in love with her.