The morning after the funeral, Gray had driven Scottie straight to his therapist. He’d brooked no arguments. The two-hour session helped exorcise some of the rage in his heart, but not all of it.

Three more sessions through the following week helped as well. Scottie didn’t feel magically changed, but alcohol had stopped its siren call—so maybe it helped more than he thought.

After clearing out and replacing his busted furniture, Scottie tracked down Silus at his university. He’d gotten so lost in his own thoughts that he’d neglected to check on him. His brother appeared to be completely fine, aside from Zeb being attached to his hip.

“Monk.” Zeb tried to catch up to him on the way to the car park. “Will you slow down?”

“Yes, Zippie?” Scottie turned around to lean against his vehicle with his arms folded across his chest. “What can I do for France?”

Zeb muttered curses in French for a few seconds before seeming to rein in his temper. “I am not going to hurt your brother.”

“You’re both young. Of course you’re going to fucking hurt each other.” He couldn’t help a laugh at Zeb’s expense. “Did you chase me down to tell me that?”

“Yes.”

“We’re never going to be friendly.” Scottie quickly continued to avoid Zeb shooting off at the mouth. “Do right by Silus, and I’ll forget what a wanker you are.”

“How generous,” Zeb remarked mockingly. “Should I say thank you?”

“Fucking….” Scottie trailed off, catching sight of his brother approaching over Zeb’s shoulder. “I won’t be an arsehole if you won’t. How about it?”

Zeb held his hand out after several tense seconds. “Merde.”

“Playing nicely, are we?” Silus sidled up to Zeb, glowering suspiciously at his brother. “Weren’t you heading off to see Gray? Changed your mind?”

“Zippie wanted a word.” Scottie tried and failed not to poke at Zeb a little. He really did bring out the worst in him. “Don’t you have class?”

“Why don’t you have a coffee with us?” Silus placed a hand on Zeb’s arm while giving Scottie another glare. “I’ve an hour before my next class. C’mon, big brother, don’t you want to get to know my boyfriend better?”

No, I don’t.

Wait.

Did he say boyfriend?

Bugger.

With a resigned groan, Scottie followed the lovebirds across campus to a small café crowded with students. They grabbed coffee and a few pastries before stepping outside to find a quieter spot to sit in the almost bitterly cold breeze. Silus appeared determined to bridge the gap between his brother and his boyfriend.

Not fucking likely.

I could try harder.

Drinking coffee had never gone so slowly. Silus looked ready to rip his hair out. Scottie smothered the guilt in his belly. He wasn’t making it easier on his brother and decided to make a run for it.

Silus followed him out to his Jaguar. “He’s brilliant, Scottie. He makes me happy. Thinks I’m smart but doesn’t take the mickey when I’m rambling about computers.”

Scottie scowled at the unintentional reminder of the teasing and bullying Silus had dealt with as a young teenager. “I’m not the one going out with him. Why does it matter if we get along?”

“Remember Dad’s funeral? Of course, you do, stupid question.” Silus waved a hand to stop Scottie from answering. “Seeing all this family who couldn’t be bothered to get to know me. They barely acknowledged me at all. Some even said nasty things about Mum and me. It made me realise aside from my mother and you—I don’t have a family. It’s not too much to ask for you to be a bit nicer to Zeb.”

Scottie got yet another punch of guilt to his stomach at the sadness in his brother’s eyes. “All right, all right, turn off the pout. I’ll do better with Zippie. I promise. I’ll even call him Zeb.”

To his face.

He planned to do his best, at least, at being nicer.

Leaving the university, Scottie drove straight to Ruck. He planned to visit briefly with Gray before checking in at the club. They had a fancy dress event scheduled for the upcoming weekend, and everything had to be set up for it.

Once parked in his usual spot, Scottie hopped out only to pause at the sight of Remi and his wife waiting nearby. Brilliant. It’s going to be Frenchie part deux. Sarah waved at him before heading into the restaurant. He found a stern-faced Frenchman blocking his path.

“Frenchie.” Scottie didn’t think he’d done anything to tick Remi off recently. He’d been mostly on his best behaviour, aside from the day of the funeral. “What’ve I buggered up to earn your disapproval?”

“We want to talk.” Remi caught him by the shoulder to forcibly guide him away from Ruck toward the Sin Bin entrance instead. “Gray will have lunch delivered for us in an hour or so. Depends on how quickly they start serving at the restaurant.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” Scottie tripped over the carpet in the foyer of the club. Remi led him into the first-floor space where all of his old rugby mates were seated around the largest of the tables. “Is this an intervention? Seriously? After I had one bad night?”

“Sit.” Remi pushed him into one of the empty seats. “We drove all the way to Cardiff—so sit and listen without cheek.”

So it was an intervention. Another one. Scottie counted to ten several times to avoid snapping at the well-meaning idiots. He appreciated how much they obviously cared about him even if he wanted to bash them all upside the head.

He thought it unlikely Gray had reached out to them. His visits to the therapist had eased his Dominant’s concerns. It made him wonder who’d talked to his friends and what was said to worry them enough to make the trip to Cardiff.

“Drinking isn’t the answer to dealing with the pain of your father’s death.” Taine started what clearly had to be a prepared conversation. He stopped when Scottie started to snicker. “This isn’t funny. Don’t be an arse. We’re only concerned about you. You’ve done so well since you left rehab.”

“Fuck off. I’m not being an arse—not this time.” Scottie couldn’t deny he’d gone out of his way to be difficult in the past. “You’re working yourselves up without having all the information. I’ve seen my therapist three or four times since the funeral. And I haven’t touched a drop of alcohol outside of one night when I got drunk.”

“Really?”

“Oh?”

“Good.”

“Well, that’s brilliant.”

“Is that your joint opinion?” Scottie laughed when they all responded at the same time with smiles of relief. Idiots. “Not falling back into that boozy nightmare again. Not if I can help it.”

And he wasn’t planning to ever again.

The clarity that came with sobriety had, not to sound clichéd, changed his life completely. Scottie saw no reason to throw it all away for a supposed good time. His friends clearly had no intention of allowing him to slip either.

Just a year or two ago, their attempted intervention would’ve angered him to the point of getting into a fight. Scottie actually found himself grateful for the obvious evidence of their worry for him. His health mattered to his friends enough for them to risk his temper flaring as it so often had in the past.

“You’re all morons.” Scottie hid a smirk when they all tensed at what he’d say next. “Thanks for caring enough to do this.”

Caddock narrowed his eyes on Scottie. “Should we check him for a fever? I can’t remember him ever saying thank you before.”

Scottie flipped him off with both middle fingers. “Gray claims you make family where you can when life gives you a shit one at the start. I suppose you’re all included in mine.”

“He called us family.” BC nudged Remi with his elbow. “Can we get it in writing? Scottie Monk said something soppy.”

“And instantly regretted it.” Scottie decided one emotional revelation was enough for the rest of the day—maybe even the year.

Lunch arrived shortly after to break up their continued joking. Over the meal, they nattered on about all their news. BC had the greatest news: Graham had been once again declared cancer-free at his annual follow-up with the doctor. They all cheered for him.

“How about you and your American?” Taine’s question had all eyes shifting to Scottie. “Are you two getting serious? Is it official?”

“Officially what?” Scottie shrugged, trying to seem completely indifferent. “We’re good.”

Remi leaned forward in his seat, setting his fork down. “Good?”

“Good. Opposite of bad. The fuck do you want from me? An analysis of my relationship?” Scottie refused to dissect what he had with Gray for his friends. “Eat your lunch. I’m done gossiping with you lot.”

“I do believe Scottie’s in love,” BC teased him.

Deciding to be the mature adult that he was, Scottie spooned up some of the mashed potatoes to flick them straight into BC’s face. The food fight was short-lived and brutal. They only stopped when one of his managers rushed out to yell at them while they cackled with laughter like naughty schoolboys caught by their teacher.

Remi pulled Scottie aside once order had been restored. “Gray’s good for you.”

“You’ve half a pickle in your hair.” Scottie went up the stairs and down the hall toward his office where he kept a spare change of clothes. “Are you following me for a reason?”

Remi didn’t respond to his aggressive tone in kind. “Are you two serious?”

“Remi.”

“Are you happy with him?” Remi stayed by the door while Scottie hunted down the bag with his clean T-shirt and jeans. “You’ve been a miserable bastard for so many years.”

Scottie ripped off his dirty shirt and flung it toward Remi. “Yes, Mum. I’m happy. He’s happy. Go bother someone else.”

Honestly.

Remi deflected the shirt toward the chair in the corner. “We care about you.”

“I’m aware.” Scottie pulled on his clean shirt before starting to get his shoes off. “What does that have to do with fuck all?”

Remi pinched the bridge of his nose before breathing out noisily. “One day you might learn how to be a friend.”

“Right. One day. But can I get dressed first?”