Page 80 of Take My Hand

She nods.

“So between the time I spend over there working, to helping out with some of his renovations, and traveling for the shows, we just grew closer.”

She rolls her hand in front of her as if to say, keep going.

“And things kinda just went from there.”

“Oh, c’mon. Details, I want details!” She throws her head back dramatically and I’m surprised by her animation. Spending so much time around Walker has clearly rubbed off on her.

“Okay, well. You remember after I sent you that text in Jersey to see if you wanted to join me downstairs to eat before the show?”

“Yes.”

“He ended up joining me for lunch and then after…that’s when things boiled over.”

“I figured that’s when it was. Walker had texted me right before I boarded my flight that evening that Hayden had missed the interview and that he’d fill me in on it later. But that had to do with a certain someone.”

“Why didn’t you call me then and ask if you already knew?”

“Because I didn’t want to pry while it was still new,” she says. “I know I wouldn’t have wanted anyone digging around for information when I was still figuring out how I felt about Walker, let alone trying to explain it to someone else. And I figured you’d tell me when you were ready to.”

“I should’ve texted and told you earlier. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” She brushes it off. “But you can make it up to me.”

I arch a brow at her.

“Just tell me one thing. Is he good in bed?”

I choke on her question and reach for a sip of coffee.

“I know, I know, he’s my boyfriend’s best friend. I shouldn't be asking about it. But ever since I met him and he was all quiet and shy and dark…I’ve just wondered if he’s secretly really dirty. You know it’s always the quiet ones,” she says with a smirk, and I know exactly what she means.

Hayden has that low, cool kind of energy. He’s not chatty with new people and keeps to himself when he’s not around his friends.

But he has an underlying tension about him that just screams sex. A thrumming bass line underneath his exterior that draws you in and pulls you into his wavelength. One look at him and you just know he knows what he’s doing.

My face grows hot and I look away as I answer quietly, “He definitely doesn’t disappoint.”

“I knew it!” Scar says, slapping her hand against her thigh. “Tell me more.” She sits forward, waiting for details.

Visions of Hayden looping my wrists together with his bass strap, demanding I get on my knees and fucking my face, edging me to the point of begging, flash through my mind and I shift in my seat. The fabric chafes against my heated skin.

“Damn, that good, huh?” Scar’s voice breaks me out of my memories and I rub the back of my neck. “You totally zoned out there thinking about it, didn’t you?”

“Let’s just leave it at no complaints from me.”

“Fine, fine, I’ll back off.” She raises her hands in surrender. “But I’m happy for you.”

“Thank you,” I tell her sincerely.

We catch up on everything that’s been going in our lives since the last time we’ve seen each other. She’s still working on her first album, while also booking shows here and there. She spends a lot of time in Vegas with Boone, her mentor and best friend, to collaborate with him on her music. Walker isn’t sure what he’s going to do once the band announces their breakup, but he keeps pestering her about adopting a dog.

Bringing up the band's impending breakup settles a dark cloud over her face and she sighs heavily. “I know it’s not my fault, but I can’t help but feel guilty about it. Walker tries to pretend like he’s fine with it and the way things are between the four of them, but when he thinks I’m not looking, I’ll catch him watching old footage of the four of them playing at dive bars back in Pittsburgh before they ever made it big. Some of the spark that I love so much in him has dimmed as the months go on and it gets closer.”

“It’s taking a toll on Hayden too. His anxiety spikes whenever they have to go into an interview and play pretend.” He’s tried to hide it from me, but I can tell when his thoughts spin from memories of the past to the uncertainty of his present. The way he’ll wrap the strings of his hoodie around his fingers over and over again, or trace the ink on his hand methodically to try to keep himself centered and not get sucked into the war his brain is trying to rage with him.

Scar sinks back into the cushion. “I tried talking to Arun when I was at one of their shows earlier this summer to see if there was something he could do. Try sitting them all down again, talking some sense in them all. But he just said he’s already done what he can and it’s up to the four of them to work it out.”

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