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He was right.
“Tough love, brother. You earned it too many times for me to go back and tread water with you.”
He got quiet. My point was made.
He echoed it with a quiet, “I deserved that.”
I straightened from the wall and faced him. Taking his drink, I ignored his “Hey,” and sniffed it. “Fuck, Matt. What’s in here?”
“Vodka.”
“Mixed with rum?”
He flashed a grin. “Mixed with whatever the fuck was behind the bar that would make it taste good. And what is this?” He motioned between us before he took the drink back, his head resting against the wall.
He knew me. He knew what was coming.
He tipped his chin up. “You know, it was fun hanging out with you today. You didn’t have a stick up your ass.”
I shot back, “You know, it was fun hanging out with you today, too. You weren’t acting like a drug addict with a death wish.”
He cringed. “Shit.”
I didn’t blink. “Fuck.”
His gaze grew resigned, but he sipped his drink. “Okay. Lay it on me. Tell me what a fuckup I’ve been.”
I scowled now, because that wasn’t deserved. “When have I ever done that to you?”
His eyes fell to his drink.
He didn’t respond.
“I’ll take care of you. Make you leave a bad situation. Clean up after you. But when have I ever sat and lectured you? A few pointed words here and there, but shit, Matt. You deserved those. I’m not Peter. Don’t put your father issues on me just because I’ve helped take care of you. And for the record, brother, I enjoyed today because you were part of the group. You were in there, helping. You had focus, a goal, and you were doing it because you love your sister.”
A second flinch. A third. There was a fourth by the time I was done, and he stood there, his eyes unfocused as he grew quiet.
His face fell. Whatever was there, whatever attitude he was trying to fire up, crumbled. His head lowered. His drink too, so I grabbed it before it spilled. I handed it off to Scott, who was standing behind me.
Matt let loose a low and guttural “Fuuuck.”
His head came up. His eyes closed, and a harder “Fuck!” came out.
I frowned.
“You’re right. You’re completely right and I’m an idiot.”
Seeing eyes coming to us, I motioned to the side. “Let’s head to your TV room for privacy.”
Scott moved first, heading off to make sure it was open for us. Matt sighed, trailing behind.
Bailey tipped her head back as we passed by. “Everything okay?” Her hand moved behind her, palm up to me.
I caught her fingers with mine, sliding our hands over each other and pausing to kiss her forehead. “Everything’s fine.”
Melissa and Tamara let out audible sighs. Torie just grinned, her chest puffed up, and she gave me an approving look. I shot a pointed look from her to Bailey and back again. She got my message, clipping her head up and down.
She handed her drink off to someone else.
A few people were leaving the den, looking pissed off, but the expressions changed when they saw us coming. A few guys tried to say hello to Matt, and he replied, but halfheartedly. They looked to me, thinking about it. My eyes went flat. They didn’t give me the same greeting.
Scott laughed behind me.
Going inside, I told him, “Just keep one of you in the hallway. I want the rest out there with Bailey.”
Scott nodded, taking position at the end of the hall. The other guard returned.
“Connor came in, and a few others. They’re helping to man the lobby.”
That was good. “Thanks.”
The door shut behind us, and I hadn’t taken a second step inside before Matt was already going.
“I’m messed up. I’m so fucking messed up, Kash.” He sank down on the couch, burying his head into his hands. His elbows rested on his knees.
I started forward to him, but he jerked back up.
He shot to his feet and started to pace. “I blame myself for what happened to Bailey.”
My eyebrows went up. I hadn’t expected that. “What?”
“Amanda and I started sleeping together, and because of her affair, her husband started stepping out. He was right there, ripe for Quinn to pick him up and start pimping him for her own fucked-up intents. But that was me. I set all that in motion. It’s been eating me up. I don’t know how to make it right, and I continue to keep fucking up.”
He kept pacing.
I settled back, leaning against the wall.
“I wake up every morning, deal with my hangover, and swear that I’m not going to party again. I swear that I’m going to do something right, preferably for Bailey, but if not her, then for someone else. Ser. Cy. And I don’t know what happens. I lose track of time. Or I get bored. I have no clue. Then I’m always, always at a bar or at Naveah drinking with the guys. You used to party with us. I know the guys don’t want me to say anything, but they miss you.”
