He didn’t want to. He wanted to escape from the glares and coming accusations, but Winters was right. Brock faltered forward, using the chair before he hit the floor. He tried to clear his throat, but it was too dry and abused from days of drinking and dying. “Whatever you want, get it over with.”

If they were there to kill him, it’d be welcome. So why hadn’t they? His blurry brain didn’t care. He just wanted them out, because he had a date with a half-empty bottle of something amber-colored that sat on the counter.

Winters slapped the table. “Brock?”

“Yeah?” Brock’s eyes strayed from the men to the bottle, and his mouth watered.

Roman crossed his arms and looked at Rocco. Winters ignored them all and finished his burger.

Rocco probably had Brock’s job now. He’d be a natural team leader. Smart. Respected. It’d be a good fit. Titan and Rocco deserved each other. Loyal. Trustworthy. Unstoppable. Damn it, I need a drink.

Rocco cleared his throat. “You trying to kill yourself?”

“Yup.” Why bother with a lie?

“You’re doing a good job of it.”

His head tilted to the side, and not because he wanted to move. It was more of a list, a weight too heavy to hold up. “Not really.”

Winters crumbled the wrapper and licked his thumb. “We’re not going to let you do that, fucker.”

Absurd. It took a lot of energy, but Brock laughed. It came out in a garbled, scratchy cough. “Yeah, all right. Don’t let me die.”

Rocco shook his head. “Eat. Shower. This is your intervention, or whatever it’s called.”

“Whether you like it or not,” Roman leaned forward on the table, “we’ve been a team for years, and screwing up isn’t a death sentence.”

Yeah, it was, actually. “It is when you’ve done what I’ve done.”

“We all know what you did.” Roman’s intense stare burned into him. “Shit got harsh, Brock. You made a wrong decision.”

“I crossed the line.”

“No kidding. But we move on,” Roman volleyed back.

“I don’t deserve to.”

Rocco downed his soda then shifted his focus back to him. “No, you don’t, asshole. But that’s how it’s going to be.”

Why did they care? “Go away.”

“You have a good woman. A family none of us knew about. And no one here can say that they wouldn’t lose their mind to save them either. Not Parker or Cash either.”

“But Jared.” Brock’s head swung side-to-side, spinning. “He’s a different story.”

“True that. But you know who else has a fan? Sarah—in Sugar. Nicola and Mia too. And because all you fuckers are love struck and bringing girl talk into our inner circle,”—Rocco gestured to Winters and Brock—“we’ve got chicks gossiping. And they like Sarah. Man, we’re family. Estranged at the moment, but the roots are still there. So we can’t let you kill yourself.”

Winters reached for another burger and threw it at him. It landed on the floor. “Brock, buddy. Eat. Get dressed. Get sober. Get your wife back and claim your life.”