Ruined (Barnes Brothers #4)(35)



He wouldn’t think much of it—after all, dreaming about Marin was a lot better than what usually filled his nights. Dreams where blood splattered across his field of vision, where he heard Monica scream, when he had the knife and drove it deep inside another person’s body.

Yeah, he couldn’t say these new dreams were bad, and he definitely didn’t miss the nightmares.

But things were different now.

Marin had been here and she’d left that script and now his whole world was slanted a different way.

Now Sebastien was somewhat punch-drunk and he was more than a little pleased with the fact that it had nothing to do with alcohol.

He’d been up until almost three in the morning, and while normally that wouldn’t be a big deal for him, he’d given up on late nights a while ago, roughly the same time he’d given up on the alcohol.

Giving up the alcohol had required he do something else to take the edge off so he’d turned to more intense exercise than even he was used to. He wasn’t working with a physical trainer now, but he’d done that enough to know how to work his ass into the ground. He fell back on the program he’d done when he’d played the part of a Navy SEAL—and added to it. Basically, he wore himself out during the day, didn’t eat worth shit—not part of the program—and then last night, he’d stayed up reading the script.

Yeah, so he was punch-drunk.

Top it off with another surreal dream about Marin.

He swore if he licked his lips, he’d taste her.

Because he’d almost be disappointed if he didn’t, the first thing he’d done was brush his teeth. Then, because his body felt heavier than a f*cking ton of rocks, he headed into the kitchen and cooked a massive breakfast. If he was going to get back into it, he needed to start fueling his body, not just draining it.

Besides, since he’d told himself he’d go see his folks and had forgotten once he got that script . . . well, he’d called instead. Mom had him on the phone for almost an hour and she’d made him promise he’d take better care of himself, so . . . yeah. Time to do that.

He had to admit, the breakfast, followed by a disgusting mix of greens through the juicer, did wonders for the fog in his brain and he almost felt ready to take on the world.

Almost.

It wasn’t quite what he needed to take on Hollywood, but for now, all he had to do was talk to JD. And JD was relatively easy.

On his way out of the kitchen, he grabbed his phone and made sure it was charged. The number of e-mails and unanswered texts, messages, and all that shit made him groan but he just ignored them. Finding his keys was harder, but he did finally find them, tossing them in the air absently as he looked around for his wallet.

Once he’d located that, he hit the lights and turned to go.

The phone vibrated in his back pocket, startling him—strange how easy it was to get accustomed to being out of contact. A year ago, that buzzing wouldn’t have surprised him at all, but today, it caught him off guard enough that he dropped his keys. They hit the floor and he grumbled under his breath, feeling like an idiot because immediately after the keys fell, he realized what the vibration in his pocket had come from. As he drew the phone out, he looked around for his keys and accidentally kicked them under the sofa.

“Hello.”

There was a faint pause before Zach said, “Wow. You answered your phone.”

“Ah. Yeah. What’s up?”

“Well, ah . . .” Zach’s words ended up trailing off into a bemused laugh. “Here’s the thing. We all take turns calling you every week to just try and . . . I dunno. Get you to answer the phone. But I didn’t have anything in mind to say, really.”

“Zach, you’ve always got something to say.” Sebastien knelt down by the couch and swept under it for the keys but they were too far under and his arm was too big. Grunting, he put the phone down and put Zach on speaker.

“Well, usually I have something to say. Gimme a second . . . it’s coming back to me. Okay, what are you up to today, Seb?”

Sebastien shifted around a little, checked to see where the keys were before he answered. “I’m . . . uh . . . well, I’m driving into LA.”

“Just getting out of the house for a while?”

Sebastien scowled as he lifted the couch up. It wasn’t heavy but it was awkward. Fortunately, the keys weren’t hard to reach now. He snagged them and started to lower the couch when something caught his eye. Sparkly gems reflected the dim light back at him, set in metal the color of old gold. Memory flickered.

“So?”

Zach’s voice was a buzzing in his ear. “I’m going to talk to JD, Zach,” Sebastien said without really thinking about it. He couldn’t reach the hair clip. Lowering the couch, he shoved it forward, not caring if the wooden feet scratched his custom hardwood floors—and they did. He saw the clip and snagged it while Zach started making demands in his ear.

“Come on, you stubborn bastard. What are you going to talk to JD for?”

Realizing that Zach had probably asked that question—or variations—of it several times over, Sebastien mulled over his answer with half his brain. The other half was focused on the clip. Where had he seen it before? He couldn’t remember, but he knew he’d seen it.

He dropped it on the table while Zach continued to nag him.

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