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Alone in my room and phone in hand, I’m suddenly not so excited to search for the photos.
25
SCAR
My mood is sour for the rest of the morning, so instead of trying to go down to the hotel restaurant for breakfast, I order enough room service to last me until we have to check out later and get back on the road. I tuck my phone away in my backpack and zip the pocket closed, trying to keep it out of sight, out of mind.
Waffles, toast, eggs, bacon, various types of jam, platters of fruit, and plenty of orange juice and coffee are rolled in on a white clothed cart, which I park next to my bed so I can eat from the comfort of bed, lounging back and watching TV, something I haven’t been able to do for so long. There’s not a whole lot on at this time in the morning, but a Forensic File marathon catches my attention and before I know it, I’ve sucked away two hours, mind spinning with DNA evidence, cheating partners resorting to hiring hit men, and poorly done reenactments.
Knocking at my door rouses me from my bed for the second time this morning. When the hell did I become so popular…
However this time when I swing open the door, I’m greeted by the very man that took up all of my dream space last night. Walker leans against the doorframe, black jacket hung over his shoulder with one hand, a shopping bag in the other. Dark sunglasses cover his eyes, resting on his sharp nose, hair laid back in perfect waves that I know he didn’t actually style besides running his hands through it, a few loose curls falling over his forehead.
“Morning, sweetheart,” he greets, his voice dancing over my skin and brightening my mood.
“Does it still classify as morning if we’re heading into the lunch hour?”
“Always gotta be a smartass.” He smirks. “You gonna invite me in?” He tips his sunglasses down, peering at me over the rim and raising a teasing brow.
I step aside and hold my arm out, gesturing for him to enter.
The room instantly feels smaller with him in it, my every instinct tuned into his movement and I realize in that moment what makes him such a great musician and performer. It’s not solely his musical knowledge or drum skills. It’s the way he commands attention by simply walking into a room, the way he pulls everyone and everything into his orbit, whether you’re aware of it or not.
I think back to that first day I met him on the bus and how my body reacted to him, wanting to lean into his space without my permission because the force of him was so strong.
I feel the same way now, only this time I don’t fight the pull. I fall into it, allowing my attention to be zeroed in on him, watching him take in the room, the city skyline from my window, and finally landing on the TV where blurred out crime scene photos are currently flashing by with haunting music.
“Is that legal to show those on there?” He points to the screen.
I shrug. “I assume so, but kinda fucked up.”
“Yeah…” He stares for a moment longer, before shaking his head and redirecting his attention to me. “Sleep well?”
“All right,” I answer, wanting to add that I wished he would’ve been beside me, but I refrain. “How’s Jane doing?”
He grimaces. “She’s fine. Embarrassed that she was crying in the middle of a nightclub last night but besides that and a headache that she said she wished she could carve out of her brain, I think she’s okay. For the most part.”
“She shouldn’t be embarrassed. Trust me, I’ve seen worse.” I don’t tell him that by I’ve seen, I actually mean I’ve done worse.
“She’s normally the more put together one but I don’t know, something’s up with her. She’s just not ready to talk about it.”
“Did you ask her?”
“Of course. But Jane only shares what she wants to share, where she wants to share it and when she wants to do so. It’s a good talent for her in her career, being such a locked vault until the time is right to bring forth a piece of information, but it’s frustrating as her brother when I just want to help her.”
I nod along, pretending like I understand. While Beth and I were never enemies growing up, we definitely weren’t what I could call best friends. More like two girls who lived in the same house and passed by each other in the bathroom in the morning. Neither of us ever tried to dig much past the surface. Whether that was learned from our community or just the way our sibling bond developed, I’m not sure.
But it’s nice to hear how much Walker cares about his sister. I’m sure being a twin brings a whole other element to their closeness, but the troubled look on his face shows how deeply he cares for her well-being.
“Is she still here?”
“Nope, I rode with her to the airport about half an hour ago.”
“Quick trip then. Do you want anything?” I gesture to the cart with half eaten plates of food, my eyes more hungry than my stomach.
“I’m good, thanks.” Walker clears his throat. “I assume Vik talked to you already?”
Exhaling, I slump onto the bed. “Yep. Came by first thing this morning.”
