The Damaged (The Insiders Trilogy #2) - Tijan by Tijan

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.”

That wasn’t what I wanted to hear either.

It didn’t matter. Matt kept going and pacing back and forth. “I’m not a drunk. I’m not an addict. Yes, I like both. I really like both, but I can stop. I did tonight. Shit’s not too messed up. I mean, look at who’s out there!” He swept his hand out, gesturing toward the hallway. “I don’t want those people out there. I’m a lot of things, and I’ll admit that I’m a bit of a dick. I don’t know those people, but they’re Hawking students. My sister’s a Hawking graduate student, and my sister wants to have fun and be normal today, so hell. I’m throwing a fucking Hawking party for my sister. And she’s having fun. It’s the same reason you’re here, chilling, even though I know you’re itching to break some necks and kick everyone out. Bailey. We’re doing this for her.”

Now he stopped. Now he swung his head my way. And now his eyes were telling me I needed to say something here.

Fuck if I knew what.

I grunted. “You’re right.”

An emphatic nod, and he threw his arms in the air. He started pacing again. “I know! I know I’m right, and why am I right? Why aren’t you pissed at me?”

“Why would I be?”

“Because I’m a fuckup! You should be pissed at me.”

I put my hands in my pockets, rolling my shoulders forward. “I gotta admit, I can usually follow your thoughts. This? No clue. You blame yourself for Bailey being kidnapped?”

“Yes!” He cocked his head to the side. “No! I don’t know. It sounds stupid, now that I’m hearing it out loud.”

“Quinn’s to blame for the kidnapping. Or if anyone else, blame me. I wasn’t there. I knew shit wasn’t right, but I still went off anyways. You boning Amanda Bonham didn’t set that in motion, and I’m pretty sure Amanda boned you because her husband was already boning Quinn. So you were being used, in an odd, extramarital affair way.”

He froze in place, his eyes glued to me. “Holy fuck,” he whispered. “You’re right. You’re so right. I’m as much a victim as Bailey—”

“No.”

“I’m almost as much a victim as Bailey—”

“Try again.”

“Amanda used me.”

I nodded. “Better.”

“Still, man.” He raked a hand through his hair. “You don’t know how much guilt’s been racking me. I was going to try to get my life together.”

“God forbid.” My tone was dry.

“I know.” He shuddered, then smirked. “I know you’re being a smartass. I’m being serious—I mean about the victim stuff, not the other stuff. I really do need to get my act together.” He expelled a snort that was half a laugh, motioning for the hallway again. “Bailey’s younger than me and she’s going to cure computer cancer within the year. What am I doing?” He gestured around the room. “I’m still throwing ragers in my penthouse floor that Daddy pretends is mine, just like how I don’t really do crap at this hotel. The assistant manager is getting paid what a manager does for a reason, with extra to take the name demotion.” His snort was only a snort now. No laugh. “I know whose idea that was.”

“It was mine.”

His head whipped back to mine. “You messing with me?”

I shook mine. “It was my idea.”

He scowled. “Are you sure my daddy issues shouldn’t translate to you?”

I grinned, leaning my head back. “Calm down. You weren’t ready to handle anything real before.” I leaned my head forward. “You are now.”

He quieted.

“I think you need to, because you’re slipping into old habits. One bender. Don’t make this night your second. You had fun at the game with us. I know you didn’t like a lot of those guys, but it didn’t matter. You never paused or stopped. You distracted them so your sister could enjoy one football game. And now,” I nodded to him, “you’re slipping again. Don’t slip.”

His eyes were shining. He swallowed whatever he was feeling.

“Kash,” he said in a hoarse whisper. “I’m a mess.”