Page 25 of Take What You Want

“Do you want anything to drink?” Scar asks me, walking over to the fridge. The setting sun streaming through the floor-length windows catches the purple ends of her hair, casting them in a warm glow.

“Water’s fine,” I say.

She looks over her shoulder at me. “We have wine. You like red, right?”

I shake my head. “I’m good with water.”

“You can drink in front of me, you know.” She slides a bottled water across the counter, then pops a diet soda open for herself. Walker glances up at the sound.

Scar’s been sober for over three years now. While she doesn’t have a problem being around others while they drink, I’ve noticed that my brother is mindful of it and doesn't do it himself when she’s around. We’re aware it’s not triggering for her, but he does it out of support, and I want to do the same.

“I know,” I say, keeping my voice even. “But Nikolai and I split two bottles last night at dinner and I don’t really need any more tonight.”

Walker snorts as he finishes up the order and sets his phone on the marbled counter. “Why am I not surprised? And here I thought it was supposed to be a business dinner, not a kegger.”

I roll my eyes. “Please. We were at a steakhouse, not Brent’s basement house party.”

“How’d it go?” Walker asks, grabbing a bottle of water for himself and leaning on the opposite end of the counter. A new tattoo on his forearm catches my eye. It’s another one in black and white, like all of the ink he has. Unlike Hayden who iscovered almost head to toe in it, Walker has various patchwork pieces decorating his arms.

And as far as I know, Nikolai has never let a tattoo needle anywhere near his skin. But a lot can change over the years, so what do I really know?

“It went fine,” I say, suddenly nervous. I shouldn’t be. I did nothing wrong. But despite the chill in the air from the air conditioning, my skin is flushed.

“How does the contract look?” Walker presses, and I relax, knowing he’s asking because he cares about his best friend getting tied into a new career opportunity that doesn’t include the band, and not because he thinks anything is up between us.

He didn’t even blink twice when I told him I was flying out to meet with Nikolai for it. Why would he? As far as he knows, we’ve always just been friends.

“It’s decent enough,” I say. “Terms are as fair as they come. It does lock him in for three albums, which gave me pause.”

“Three albums?” Walker chokes on his drink, and Scar reaches over, patting a hand on his back. His face turns red but I don’t think it’s solely due to his sputtering. “He’s not going to sign that, is he?”

I shrug. “He didn’t seem to have a problem with it.”

“B-but what if…” Walker starts, then trails off, shaking his head. His black hair, the same shade as my own, falls in his eyes and he brushes it back. “Never mind. That’s great. I’m glad you were able to take a look for him. Good he’s getting back out there.” The sadness is heavy in his tone.

Scar sticks close to his side, leaning her head against his arm.

“You guys tried your best,” she says softly. “You never know what the future holds.”

A muscle ticks in Walker’s jaw but he doesn’t respond.

“He hasn’t signed it yet,” I say, letting the unsaid words hang between us.

But Walker just shakes his head and leans back over the counter. “It’s done.”

It is, but clearly, he’s still struggling with it almost a year later.

“Have you talked to Reid at all?”

Walker scoffs. “Fuck no. Why would I?”

Scar bites her lip, averting her eyes. I see the guilt she carries, unfairly so, whenever Reid comes up.

She has all the rights to hold a grudge against him. After all, he is the one who helped her past DUI and rehab stint come to light as her career was gaining traction when she was on tour with the band. He also fed some false rumors in the mix,anonymously, but then admitted it to the guys during one of their meetings with Arun.

Walker has never forgiven him for the betrayal of not only Scar, but also their friendship. The guys always stood as one against everyone: the label, management, the media. To have Reid go behind their backs hurt them all.

“I’m just asking,” I backpedal, hating the way his green eyes, the same as my own, harden, as they stare me down. As if I’m betraying him just by bringing up Reid’s name in his house.

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