“Oh, right. Never mind. I’ll drink your share.”

“You don’t have alcohol restrictions while taking medication after your surgery?” Deacon asked.

“Not for such a minor procedure,” Derek said. “Julianne was only in the surgery center for an hour. She could’ve still made her four-o’clock tee time.”

Deacon stiffened beside her. Silence distorted the air—a more disturbing sound than if someone had been screaming. After a moment, Molly squeezed Deacon’s thigh beneath the table. He immediately leaned over and placed his mouth on her ear. “I’m done with this bullshit. We’re outta here as soon as the dessert plates are cleared.”

Her heart broke for him. His mother continued her manipulative ways even now, forcing Deacon’s father to miss his son’s fight.

“I realize you’re a doctor, Derek, but it was a bit more involved than that,” Bing corrected. “Deacon, your mother—”

“Don’t wanna hear it,” Deacon said curtly. “Are we eating or what? Because if you’re gonna drag this damn dinner out another couple of hours, we’ll leave now and hit McDonald’s on the way back to the hotel.”

“McDonald’s?” His mother sniffed. “You still go for the low blow. But by all means, if you’d rather eat processed garbage than the food prepared by our chef, feel free to leave.”

Deacon looked at his father. “I tried. But I’m done.” He pushed his chair back. After he stood, he pulled Molly’s chair out and offered his hand to help her to her feet.

Molly didn’t make eye contact with anyone as they left the dining room. She just clutched Deacon’s hand as he dragged her through the maze of hallways and out the front door.

Deacon didn’t say a word for fifteen minutes after they left his parents’ house.

They didn’t hit the McDonald’s drive-thru.

They didn’t return to the hotel.

He just drove.

When her stomach growled, she’d had enough of suffering in his oppressive silence. “Deacon.”

“Not now.”

“Yes, now. I know you’re upset—”

“I’m beyond fucking upset, Molly.”

“Which is why you need to stop this NASCAR speed drive through the Texas countryside and take us back to the hotel.”

The muscle on the right side of his jaw ticced. His knuckles glowed white in the bluish lights of the dashboard.

At the last second, he took the next exit. He pulled into the gravel parking lot of an abandoned gas station. As soon as he’d killed the engine, he bailed out and sprinted up the rise of a small hill.

Molly quietly climbed out of the car, keeping her arms folded over her chest to ward off the sudden chill that owed nothing to the weather. As her leisurely stroll brought her closer to him, her eyes drank in everything that was Deacon. The tight T-shirt that showcased the tattoos on his arms. The jeans that molded to his perfect ass and long legs. The shiny top of his bald head, which reflected the sun’s fading rays. Given his spoiling-for-a-fight body language—booted feet braced wide, hands on his hips, shoulders thrown back—she should’ve retreated.

But she couldn’t let him revert to this closed-down behavior after dealing with his family. And she wasn’t about to stand ten paces behind him, waiting for his acknowledgment.

Molly marched forward and planted herself in front of him.

His volatile blue eyes met hers.

“Talk to me.”

The wind kicked up, blowing her hair all over her face. Before she could bat it aside, Deacon trapped the strands against her head, cradling her face in his hands. “I hate it here. I don’t know why the hell I agreed to come. Nothing any of them can say tonight—or tomorrow—will change my mind.”

“So this wasn’t just a social visit?”

“No. There’s a JFW board meeting tomorrow.”

Why hadn’t he told her about the meeting? Or the upcoming fight? Hadn’t he promised he’d be open about everything? Instead it seemed he’d kept her in the dark. On purpose?

“I usually skip the board meetings. I’m a token anyway, unless there’s something to vote on. That’s why Tag flew to Denver. To try to convince me in person.”

“Convince you to do what?”

“To side with him and force a vote in the very near future about the future of JFW. Tag and two shareholders want to sell the company. Our fathers and Clive don’t.”

“Do you know what you’re going to do?”

Deacon shook his head. “It’s really complicated, which is why I’ve avoided it.”