Ruined (Barnes Brothers #4)(9)

So he battled the urge down and let all the words come spilling out instead.

“I f*cked up, Marin. I . . . Shit, I hurt all of them. I can’t look at them now. Not yet.”

“If not now, then when?” she asked softly, laying her hand on his cheek.

For a second, his brain went all fuzzy and blank and he couldn’t think about anything except how nice that felt, having her touch him.

Then he noticed how nice she smelled and he closed his eyes, his head drooping forward a bit as he breathed her in.

His brow bumped hers and he tensed, ready for her to pull away.

She didn’t, though.

For a few seconds, neither of them breathed and Seb wondered what she’d do if he kissed her.

Really kissed her, gorged on her the way he wanted to gorge on booze. He could get drunk on her instead, and he thought maybe that might help even more than the buzz from a few drinks. Maybe . . .

Then he wanted to smack himself. She’d probably let him. Let him kiss her, at least. Because she felt sorry for him. Why in the hell else was she always coming around?

He was pathetic.

And he felt even more pathetic because every time she showed up at his door, instead of pushing her away, he did the exact opposite. As soon as she was gone, he was missing her again.

Gut burning, he pulled back and turned his head to the side. In the windows, made darker by the privacy tint, he could see his face. It was just a vague reflection but it was enough to see a rough hint of the scar. That f*cking scar.

It made him think of how she’d seen his face a year ago, then passed out.

Absently, he reached up and traced the scar with his fingers.

When he lowered his hand, Marin caught it with hers. “I’m glad you’re here,” she said softly.

He looked over, met her pretty blue eyes. Even now, knowing she was here only because she felt bad for him; those eyes made his heart swell up in his chest. He tightened his fingers on hers. “Yeah, me, too.”

“Liar.” She laughed and tugged her hand free, reaching up to brush his hair back. It had gotten long and was hanging in his face and brushing his collar. He’d thought about getting it cut, but now decided there was no way that would happen. She’d done that twice, pushed his hair back. If he cut it, she’d have one less reason to touch him.

“What am I lying about?” he asked.

“You’re not glad you’re here.”

He almost pointed out that he’d been talking about her—he was glad she was here.

But he figured that might make her uncomfortable. “I’m not not glad I’m here.” Shifting on the seat, he looked over as the limo merged with the traffic on the exit ramp. “If I have to go and face the family, it’s best that I do it now.”

Just . . . get it over with, then he’d go back to wasting what was left of his life.

“Sebastien?”

He looked over at her.

“She wouldn’t want this.”

He tensed, but before he could look away, Marin slid closer and cupped his face in her hands. “Don’t shut me out. You know I’m right. Monica wouldn’t have wanted you to live like this . . . and you know it. Sooner or later, you need to face that.”

***

Sebastien was willing to admit when he was wrong—at least to himself.

And he was doing that very thing now.

He’d been wrong.

He hadn’t voiced it to Marin, but he’d hoped if he slouched his way in with her at his side and did it at something like a wedding where there was craziness abounding, then he wouldn’t have to worry so much about dealing with his family

Or rather he wouldn’t have to worry so much about dealing with them on a personal level. After all, weddings were chaos, right?

But clearly, he’d forgotten some things about his brother Zane.

Zane didn’t do chaos.

Apparently, neither did Keelie.

Keelie had somehow managed to book a venue that Sebastien would have thought was unbookable. But then again, it turned out that Keelie was loaded and money opened doors.

Apparently, Ressa and Trey were in on the last minute thing because Ressa was one of Keelie’s maids of honor. Abby was the other one. Zach and Trey stood up with Zane.

Travis sat next to him and as he reached up to rub at his skull, his brother held out a hand.

Sebastien scowled at the four orange pills. He’d popped enough ibuprofen over the past few months to recognize them, but it annoyed him that his brother was probably assuming he was hungover.

He hadn’t had a drink since a few hours before Marin had arrived on his doorstep, so he was sobered up and then some, but chances were the headache had to do with the lack of alcohol in his system.

That realization made him feel a little sick.

He pushed Travis’s hand down, refusing the pills, and focused on his brother.

An older man Sebastien didn’t know was giving Keelie away—the guy’s name was Paul Jenkins. Sebastien had caught that much, but he didn’t know the guy’s connection to Keelie.

He might have, if he’d spent any time of the past year involved in his family’s lives.

He heard his mother sniffling.

His dad cleared his throat.

The wedding was small, just the family and a few friends from the tattoo shop, a few guys Zane knew through his photography.