Page 104 of Scream For Me
I let out a laugh as I hand Ryland his mug. An actual laugh. The sound surprises me as it slips out, and for a second, I almost look around the room like it came from someone else.
I sink into the armchair in the corner and wrap my hands around my mug of coffee. I shiver as the warmth seeps into my hands. I look around at my friends.
I’ve fucking missed this. I’ve missed the family.
Luca is on his feet and poking at a sculpture on the mantelpiece like he’s trying to figure out if it moves. Rylandleans back on the couch with his legs stretched out, loudly sipping his coffee. Harper has her legs tucked under her, her hands clasped around her coffee mug. She looks the most relaxed.
“So,” Ryland says after a beat of silence. “When are we playing again?”
The question is gentle, but it still hits me in the chest. I look down at the whitewashed beech floorboards. My silhouette stares faintly back at me in the polished wood. “I don’t know,” I mumble.
The air shifts slightly at my confession.
“Well,” Harper cuts in. “We’re currently being paid fornotplaying.”
I throw a grateful look towards Harper, and she returns it with a warm smile.
“Wow. Does that make us the worst band in history?” Luca snorts.
“Absolutely,” Ryland says without hesitation. “Truly groundbreaking. Anti-capitalist icons.”
“Very niche,” Luca agrees.
Laughter bubbles up around the room, and I let myself chuckle. The sound floods the massive space, filling it with a warmth I’ve not felt in a long time. My muscles feel looser as I let my shoulders drop. I need to tell them.
“Besides,” I add, the warmth of the moment filling me with courage. “I need a new guitar, anyway.”
Their attention snaps to me, and they all wear the same inquisitive expression.
“My apartment was broken into. My guitar didn’t survive.”
“Shit, Kat. I’m sorry,” Ryland says, his brow furrowed. He pauses to think for a second. “The band’s piggy bank could probably cover enough to get you something decent off Craigslist?”
I shake my head before he can finish, guilt rolling low in my chest. “No. I can’t take that. That money’s for recording our album.”
Harper reaches out, wrapping her fingers around my hand in my lap. “We can’t record without a guitar,” she says simply.
The others nod like it’s the most obvious thing in the fucking world. I can’t take that money. I look at them… really look at them. Something warm blooms in my chest.
“I don’t want to be the reason that—”
“You’re not,” Luca cuts me off. “It probably won’t be thebestone. But it’ll be something. Hopefully something in one piece, which is already better than where we are now.”
I let out a soft laugh. The instinct to deny their help is still there. “I really can’t—”
Harper squeezes my hand firmly. “We’re family, Kat. You’re a part of this family.” Her voice drops low and steady. “We may not be rolling in cash like Elias, but let us do this. Let us help.”
A lump forms in my throat, and I swallow it down. My automatic response is to deny help, it always has been. But the way they’re looking at me like it’s nothing—like whether to help me or not was never an actual question—makes something in my chest bloom. Tears sting behind my eyes, but I blink them away.I’ve spent so long running that I’ve almost forgotten what it feels like to be still, to be cared for.
“Okay,” I say finally.
The room brightens instantly. Ryland and Luca grin at me, and Harper gives my hand a small, final squeeze before letting go and draping herself back over the couch. Luca starts talking about some “secretly elite” pawn shops, but I’m barely listening.
I lean back in my armchair, my lukewarm coffee still in my hand. My heart feels so full, and for at least this moment, everything feels normal.
We talk for what seems like hours. The sunlight crawls across the room, slowly setting in the distance before morphing into shadows that stretch long across the floor. The automatic lights illuminate the darkness.
Harper places her third coffee cup down onto the coffee table and checks her watch. “Shit, I gotta go. I have a spin class.” She throws me an apologetic look to which I wave off dismissively.
