Ruined (Barnes Brothers #4)(69)

“This is over me.” Grimly, Marin turned her back and stared over the sprawling yard, trying to figure out where they might have gone. If they’d come in through the kitchen, she would have seen that. But the house was huge, with a patio that spread around the backyard and half the side yard, opening the house up, so that in almost any room on the lower level, somebody could wander out and stare at the endless panorama of the desert.

One of the rooms was completely off to the side—and completely out of sight from the majority of the people in the backyard. If Marin and Abby hadn’t been standing near the back where a tiki bar had been set up with ice and drinks, Marin wouldn’t have seen it.

“They wouldn’t want Mama Barnes to know,” she said, narrowing her eyes.

Abby followed her line of sight. “She always finds out. Marin, just let them bash heads.”

“How about I bash their heads?”

Lips pursed and drawn to the side, Abby pondered that idea. “I’ve thought about doing that more than once, actually.”

But Marin wasn’t listening. She was already halfway across the yard.

By the time Abby caught up with her, both of them could hear the voices coming from inside the house. A few others could as well, but they were being polite and pretending not to notice. Or maybe they were just pretending not to notice so Denise wouldn’t pick up on their interest, thus ruining their fun.

***

“You’re going to be a daddy, Sebastien. I think that requires a little more than you having some sort of high school hang-up on one of my oldest friends!” Zach snapped. “Are you ready to grow up or not?”

Sebastien was trying hard not to lose his temper, remembering a time when he’d decided to open his mouth about Zach and Abby’s relationship—he’d been a dumb-ass and in this moment, he could understand just how much of a dumb-ass he had been.

“I’m pretty sure this doesn’t really involve you, so why don’t you let Marin and me handle it, okay?” The scar on his face was itching—it tended to do that when he was stressed—or pissed—and he was fighting the urge to scratch at it. It wouldn’t help at all.

“How in the hell can it not involve me?” Zach gaped at him, looking like he was two seconds away from exploding. “She’s one of my best friends—she’s my wife’s best friend. You’re my brother. The two of you are having a kid. You’re not really even involved or we would have heard something about it before now.”

“Zach,” he said, warning in his tone.

But Zach was too riled up to hear it, pacing now. The tattoos on his arms rippled and danced as he shoved both hands through his hair. “What the hell happened . . . Were you two rehearsing and just decided to say f*ck it—”

“I’m in love with her!” Sebastien shouted, his hold on his temper cracking.

Zach stopped pacing, slowly turning to face Sebastien.

But if Sebastien thought his older brother had finally gotten the point, then he was in for a rude awakening. Zach just sighed, shaking his head. “Hell, kid. You thought you loved Monica. You were ready to ask her to marry you not that long ago. And now you think you’re in love with Marin?”

For a second, Sebastien didn’t say anything. Then he started to laugh. “Shit, are you and me the same person? Didn’t we have this argument—only it was reversed? I was convinced you would be happier in Hollywood and you kept telling me you were happy with Abby . . .” He gestured between them. “We’re talking at each other—or rather I’m talking to you and you’re talking at me because you won’t listen to what I’m saying.”

“I am listening.” Zach sounded exasperated. “Look, I just . . . You say you love Marin, but what about the past year? You’ve been brooding, and don’t try to act like it wasn’t about Monica. That’s what has you so depressed. It’s not like you don’t have reason—”

“Just stop. Right there.” Sebastien pointed a finger at his older brother and something in his voice must have cut through. “Now this?”

He made a gesture toward his face, but it wasn’t so much about the scars, or his messed-up eye and the impaired vision. It was about what had led to it—Hanson. Monica. All of it. “Just stop. This is one area you have no say in—no right to speak. You think I’ve been brooding . . . over Monica.”

Taking a few steps toward his now silent brother, he said, “In a way, you’re right. I have been—because I’ve been blaming myself.” When Zach started to speak, Sebastien just talked over him. “I should have seen it, realized something was wrong. I should have been able to save her—something. It was my fault—that was why I was brooding. But over the past few months, I started to realize maybe it wasn’t. Maybe I didn’t need to drown myself in a bottle. The person to blame was the son of a bitch who killed her—and the bastards who let him walk every time somebody else accused him of abuse. But not me . . . and not her.”

Zach opened his mouth, then closed it.

“What, nothing to say there?” Sebastien crossed his arms over his chest. “

“Seb . . .” Zach expelled a harsh breath of air. “Look, I know you went through a rough time. I think . . . No. I know that’s why this has me tripped up. I don’t want you latching on to something and hoping it will last just because it seems like . . . I dunno . . . something good.”