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“The rest of it was, and whatever you think this is—” I gestured around at everyone. “I’m not interested.”
“Worth,” Beck said. “Please stay. I’m here because I’m worried about you.”
“I’m fine.” I turned to go.
“Worth?” It was Carter this time. “You helped me when I was all messed up about Matteo. I want to help you now.”
“There’s nothing wrong with me. I’m just….”
“Really fucking unhappy,” Ford supplied.
I let out a long breath. “It hasn’t been the best few months, but I don’t need some kind of intervention.”
Beck narrowed his eyes, studying me. “I think you do.”
“You haven’t even been here. How the hell do you know?”
“I know you don’t call me back. I know you don’t respond to my texts, not like you used to.”
“I respond when I get a chance.”
“Days later or while you’re drunk off your ass.” I started to protest, but he continued. “You’ve been alternating between acting like a hermit and trying to party like the world’s ending as you fuck your way through every twink in Manhattan.”
That was true, but I didn’t want to admit it. I’d already decided I needed to stop going out and living like partying was my job. I wanted to see if I could be celibate and sober, like adults were expected to be. Then I realized that was depressing as hell, and I went back to partying like I always had, but somehow, all the fun seemed to have been sucked out of it. “I’m just enjoying life like I always have.”
Ford huffed. “We’ve partied with you. We’ve seen the way you usually are. This is different.”
It was. I felt like I was desperately chasing something and nothing was satisfying me, not my usual activities, and not trying a quieter life.
“I video called him he the other day, and he was wearing sweatpants and a dirty NYU T-shirt.” Beck wrinkled his nose.
“I’m allowed to wear whatever I want in my own home.”
Ford’s eyes widened. “Jesus, it’s worse than I thought. You wore a stained T-shirt?”
“What the fuck is wrong with all of you?” While it was true I normally cared more about what I was wearing than almost anything else in my life, there was no need for them to panic.
“We’re worried about you,” Miles said.
“You didn’t even come to our Monday night meet-up last week,” Carter added.
Monday nights at Vincent’s, our favorite club, was one thing my friends had insisted was sacred. I’d been complaining about them not being available, but I was the one fucking it up. “I’m just….”
“Trying too hard to please our mom and making yourself miserable.”
I shook my head at my brother. “I’m just tired. All this working….”
“Nope. I’m not buying it. You used to survive on a couple hours of sleep a night. Working is no harder on you than constantly partying.”
“Everyone complained about how I needed to slow down and get more sleep.”
Miles frowned. “We teased you, and sometimes we did tell you off when you got out of hand, but we want you happy. If a different man every night is what you need, then that’s what you should have.”
I shook my head. “No amount of hot young men is making me happy. Nothing is fucking fun anymore.”
Miles laid a hand on my shoulder. “Why do you think that is?”
“Because you’re all fucking in love and boring.” I kept my tone light. I didn’t want them to know how much that bothered me, and it wasn’t even true if I was honest. Miles and Ben were happy to go out even if I had to worry Miles might kill someone for looking at Ben. I knew Ford and Carter would make time if I asked them, but I didn’t want to make them lose time with their men. They were so stinking in love, all of them, and Beck…he was young and idealistic, and he wanted all our family problems neatly solved when they were never going to be. Our mom was a bitch. She wanted to put all her children in a box, and while her approach with Beck was more about dismissal than constant criticism, I knew it hurt him, and I fucking hated it.
