Page 24 of Brazen Mistakes

The doorbell chimes, all of us freezing. Trips shares a look with Clara, and I know there’s more to this meeting than Trips’ dad being a complete terror. Trying to put me in jail. Ha.

Kill me? Really not cool.

Trips goes to get the door, leaving the rest of us with Clara. Bad idea, that.

How he keeps his hands off of her is a complete mystery to me.

I slide her between Walker and me on the couch. “What are all these secretive glances with Trips?” I tease.

She frowns and twists her fingers together. “We were getting to that part. Not that I have an itinerary or anything.”

Walker slides his arm over her shoulder, just like I’d hoped he would, his sketchbook skittering across the table. Honestly, I was hopeful the three of us could turn this meeting into a party, but an arm around the shoulder is better than nothing.

Trips clears his throat from the hallway, and standing next to him is a face I’ve only seen in a few pictures, but it’s still recognizable as one of Walker’s brothers. “Hi! Come on in, Lee brother. Are you one of the doctors?” I call.

Walker groans, and the guy somehow simultaneously shrinks and throws his shoulders back. That’s talent. “Um, no, not yet. I’ll graduate this spring. I’m Bennet. Call me Ben.”

He shifts his weight from foot to foot, but doesn’t take up my invitation to join us. He’s locked on Walker’s arm around Clara, and I wonder if I’ve done something wrong setting her there. Walker stands up, and after a second, pulls Clara with him. “Benny, what are you doing here? Don’t you have a plane to catch?”

“Yeah, but Mom was worried you’d go hungry because you hadn’t taken any of the extra food. Dad decided we should bring it to you on the way to the airport.” He holds up the canvas bag, and I can’t help the chuckle that pops out of me. As if Walker needs to take his mom’s leftovers to stay fed.

Walker shoots me a glare, which makes RJ cough to cover his own laugh. Clara by his side, he gets the bag from his brother, and they just stand there, awkward and silent as all hell.

Man. Evie and I would never be like that.

Ben looks everywhere but at Walker before drifting to one side of the room. “Wait, Walker, are these your paintings?” He walks up to a Poussin-inspired landscape that Walker did two years ago, stopping an inch before touching it.

“Yeah. That one’s shit. I hadn’t learned how to get the pigmentation correct back then. It’s a little too ‘70s chic and not quite baroque.”

“But it’s actually kind of good.”

It’s Trips’ turn to huff out a laugh from the doorway.

Clara steps forward, her hand still locked with Walker’s. “It’s very good. Every painting in here is his. He’s amazing, brimming with talent.”

Ben makes a slow circle of the room, and like we’re at a museum or something, we watch him in silence. All kinds of weird going on today.

Finally, back at the front hall, he turns to the room. “Maybe I shouldn’t have destroyed those sketchbooks of yours when we were kids. They could be worth millions someday.”

Walker swings the bag of food against his leg. “Guess you fucked up, you unlucky bastard.”

“Although, you did tell eomma that I’d been sneaking out, so you definitely deserved it.”

A bark of laughter flies from Walker, and the tension between the two of them lessens. “I was a bit of a shithead, wasn’t I?”

“Yup.” Ben glances toward the door. “I should get going. But I’m glad Mom and Dad let you do your art thing. This looks like it’s working for you.” He gives Clara another look, her hand still wrapped in Walker’s.

The guy’s going to be a doctor in a few months. He knows a girlfriend when he sees one.

Walker shakes his head. “Yeah. Dad’s either so caught up singing to some old-timey song he lost track of time, or about ready to pound down the door.”

“You know the odds are leaning toward door pounding.” They share a smile.

“Oh, and Benny? Mom and Dad still don’t approve of my art. So don’t bring it up with abeoji.”

“Wait—was the threat of them not paying for school if I didn’t pick one of the handful of approved career paths a real one?”

“They were dead serious. I’ve been paying my own way since sophomore year. But you need to head out. And if you could maybe not mention—”

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