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I listen and let him try to talk me down while Nikolai does the same with Reid, but I’m not done with this yet.
“What is your fucking issue with her, man?” I yell over Hayden’s shoulder at Reid.
“You’ll always be second to her!” Reid yells back, arms thrown out to his side. “Get that through your fucking head. You will always be second to her.” He takes a deep breath, chest starting to slow, and he pushes Nikolai away from him. “And believe me or not, but I don’t want that for you. You don’t fucking deserve it. Trust me, being second to someone's vices is not the way you want to be loved.”
I look at him, really look at him, for the first time in this whole argument. The red has cleared from my vision and I try to slow my heart, willing myself to look past my anger with him and listen to what he’s trying to say.
Reid shifts uncomfortably, as if he said something he wishes he could take back. His eyes are downcast, head drooped forward on his shoulders. In the ten years I’ve known him, Reid has been tight-lipped about his family or past before he came to our high school. I know he was in the system and that his father is dead, but he’s never told us why he didn’t live with his birth mother, or even much about his foster parents he was placed with for the last two years before he turned eighteen and we were moving out to L.A.
Maybe he’s opened up to Nikolai about it, the two of them always being closer than Reid is with me or Hayden. But even if he did, Nikolai would never betray his trust by telling us.
“You’re always going to be her second thought each morning when she wakes up, right behind what she will always crave most.”
“That’s a pretty bold assumption to make seeing as you haven’t made an effort to get to know her at all.”
“I don’t have to. They’re all the same.” Reid’s lip twists in disgust and I just know, deep down inside, this anger he has is not for Scar. She just represents to him something that he hates, someone he resents. And she just happens to be the one in his life right now that he can take it out on.
“That’s not fair to her, or what she’s been through.”
He shrugs, as if he doesn’t care if he’s being fair or not. His opinion on her is decided, based on the very thing that is the most raw for her, the exact thing she’s most worried about people judging her for.
And I know I can’t change his mind. Scar can’t change his mind. It’s not worth trying to. I see the resolve in his eyes.
“I love her,” I tell him, ending the conversation. “You don’t have to agree with my relationship or my choice. But you will respect me, and you will fucking respect her. If you can’t do that, then I suggest you stay the hell away from her and keep your opinions to yourself from now on.”
With that, I turn and walk away, not needing to engage with him further. Scar has shown me who she is, showed me the deepest parts of herself, her insecurities, her fears, her passion. She has never put me second and I don’t believe she will. I’m not naive enough to believe there won’t be seasons of struggle for her, and in turn, struggles for us. But I’m going to be there for her, through hell and high water, because I love her.
And it’s my choice to love her, just like it’s her choice to love me and choose me, choose herself over her addiction.
31
SCAR
Walker comes barreling into my hotel room just as I’m stepping out of the shower.
“How’d you get in here?” I ask, pulling a towel tightly around me in surprise. When in all honesty, it’s nothing he hasn’t seen before.
He doesn’t say a single word as he tosses a key on the floor and charges at me, eyes boring into my own, and I swear I can see a trail of smoke behind him.
“What’s going on—” My words are cut off as he slams his mouth to mine, devouring me in a deep, blistering kiss. After my moment of shock wears off, I soften my body and melt into him, sinking into his lips and allowing his tongue to tangle with mine.
Walker pushes me up against the bathroom wall, damp with condensation from the steam of my shower. Snaking a hand between us, he rips my towel away, not breaking our kiss. He bends down and lifts me by the back of my thighs and I wrap them around his waist, grinding myself against him as I get settled.
He pulls back and starts kissing down my neck, biting me as he goes.
“Is everything okay?” I say, voice airy as desire builds in my core.
Walker looks up at me, and the moment our eyes meet, concern washes over me. A bruise is blooming on one side of his face and under his left eye. Strong creases mar his brow and his jaw clenches as I study him.
I open my mouth to push him for more details when he brings a hand up and cradles my face gently. “I need you.” His voice is hoarse, words broken in a way that cracks my chest open for him.
The desire to know what happened is overridden by the desire to give him what he needs, and right now, what he needs is the relief my body can bring him.
I feather my fingers through his hair, pulling his face to mine and kissing him, silently giving him permission.
He doesn’t waste a second. Walker holds onto me tightly as he walks us out of the bathroom and tosses me onto the bed. I land with a thud, my breasts bouncing at the impact, wet hair clinging to my skin.
Walker throws his jacket off, quickly removing his shirt and reaches to start undoing his jeans. I prop myself up on my elbows and admire him and his body. His chest is broad, leading into large biceps and arms, tattoos scattered across them both. His waist is thick, torso strong and still slightly tanned from our warmer tour dates.
