This time, there was anger—no, something morethan anger—in the sound that reverberated throughout the house, and he was on his feet, his chair spinning away on its wheels from the haste of his action, striding from the office even before he heard Thaddeus’s shouted, “JT!”
“What’s wrong?”
“I’ll tell you what’s wrong.” Thaddeus stalked toward him, dragging a white and shaken Rush along after him. “That cocksucking, motherfucking, son of a candy-assed bitch bastard—”
“Thaddeus!” Tom had never heard the son of his heart use such language before. “What happened? Are you all right?”
“We’re not going to Emmett’s wedding.”
“Emmett?”
“My…my brother.”
“His ex-brother,” Thaddeus spat.
“Saying it doesn’t make it so, Tadder-my-Tad.”
“Tell your fucking brother that.”