Page 83 of Just Bromantically Invested

I blink at Derek. “You think this is Seven’s fault?”

“No. I’d like to see less of Seven, honestly. I’d like to see less of all of you. This might not be my business, but it’s reached a point where I’m going to make it my business. You’re failing him. All of you are. I know you love him and you’re trying, but it’s not enough. You all have your own lives to lead, and frankly, none of you deserve to be a nurse to a man who won’t help himself.” Derek rubs a hand over his unshaven face. “Xander’s manipulating you all.”

That’s not exactly news to me. “I know that, but he can’t help it.”

“How do you know?”

I scoff. “He doesn’twantto be sick.”

“You sure about that? Because from where I’m standing, I’m starting to think he does.”

My mouth actually drops, and I … I have nothing to say. It’s pretty fucked-up for someone in the medical field to think that way. Xander’s struggling. He doesn’t like going through what he does. “His mental health isn’t his fault.”

“I agree. But how he chooses to handle it is something that’s well within his control. Not talking to someone, always relying on his friends to drop what they’re doing to be there for him … I … this isn’t fun for me to say. None of it is. But I can’t keep biting my tongue, and I can’t keep seeing him get worse. Talkto Seven. Or probably Molly. Someone needs to get through to him because I’m getting dangerously close to overstepping my role here.”

“What do you?—”

“This isn’t okay!” He looks surprised by his outburst. “Shit. Sorry. I … I’m worried. That’s all.”

“We all are.”

“Then fucking do something about it.”

Derek storms out of the small treatment room, and I watch him go for too long before I remember Xander will be waiting by the car.

I find him in the parking lot and unlock my truck as I approach. He’s quiet, and I’m quiet, and I can’t stop noticing the time getting later and later as I back out of the parking space.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

“I know.” I genuinely believe he is, no matter what Derek says. Doesn’t change that he’s still going through this and still being stubborn. It also doesn’t help that I’m feeling guilty over my frustration at not being with Penn.

“Mads …”

“Yeah?”

“Am I broken?”

I blink at his panicked expression before turning back to the road. Is he broken? It’s hard not to think yes when, if Xander hadn’t been neglected his whole childhood, he probably wouldn’t be going through what he is now. It’s not his fault. It’s not something he had any say in, and now he’s going to spend the rest of his life dealing with the consequences of choices that weren’t his. His parents, the people he dealt with in the foster system, piece by piece, they broke him down.

That’s what Derek doesn’t understand. Xander’s been neglected far too many times for any of us to turn our backs onhim. Whether he’s subconsciously manipulating us or not, he deserves this. People who love him.

I unstick my throat and say, “You’re not broken, Z. But you really should talk to someone.”

He draws his knees up to his chest and sobs.

My nerves are already bruisedby the time I get to Penn’s. I need a hug or a really hard, burning drink. Something to shock me out of this weight that’s closing over me.

I strip off at the door and numbly follow the hall to where Penn’s sitting on his couch. Takeout containers clutter the kitchen counter, probably cold now, but I’m not hungry anyway.

As soon as I’m close enough, I let myself drop, landing half in his lap and half on the couch.

“Madden?”

“It’s been a long night.” I bury my face into his side. “Hug me.”

His hand rests stiffly on my back, and that’s all I get from him. With a sinking in my gut, I glance up.

His usually pouty bottom lip is curled out even further.

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