He did love Scotty, but that didn’t mean they were any more compatible than he and his wife had been. They wanted different things. Scotty wanted to be openly gay, and Preston didn’t.
The door burst open and Jack strode in looking ready to spit. “What the fuck did you do to my brother?”
Preston felt the color drain from his face. “What?”
“You heard me, you son of a bitch,” Jack snarled. “What did you do to Scotty?”
“I—then you know,” Preston whispered, pushing his chair away slightly from the desk.
“Yes, I know. I’m not stupid. I’ve known for weeks you were fucking my brother.”
Preston’s gaze shot to the open door. “Keep your voice down.”
Jack glared but went to the door and slammed it shut. “Happy?”
“No. Where is Scott anyway?”
“I have no idea. He quit.”
Preston blanched, a pit forming in his stomach. “He did?”
“Is that all you can say? Answer me with questions? Why did you fuck with my brother? Did you break his heart?”