“Then I’ll be uncle and he’ll be dad, but I’d still have the same conversation with them if the moment arose,” Winter said. “It’s not always about the outcome. I could do something truly amazing, and have it turn out like shit the same as if I did something epically stupid and wound up with sunshine and rainbows. There are shades of gray. To me it’s about intent. That doesn’t mean I wouldn’t be concerned, or scared shitless, if the cops brought the kid home. As far as I’m concerned, one doesn’t factor into the other.”
“How do you figure?”
“Dad said it best after he got over the wholeme being in a building where a shootout took placefactor,” Winter admitted. “He said we can’t have a contingency plan for everything. That sometimes, shit happened and the way you rolled with it was how you learned how to land on your feet.”
Blinking, Tripp sat there digesting the sentiment behind the words Winter had just revealed to him. Never could he imagine their straight-laced, cautious father giving Winter advice like that, only, he knew his brother spoke the truth.
“I’ll always be grateful that he never tried to change me.”
The unspokenthe way you didechoed in Tripp’s mind. There was no denying it. He had tried, many times over the years, to get Winter to plan things out better, organize, slow down and make careful, cautious decisions.
“Good or bad, I own the choices I’ve made,” Winter admitted. “There are things I regret, the same as anyone else, but if I wasted all of my time dwelling on them, I’d be frozen in place and that’s no way to live either.”
He had a point there. Sometimes Tripp felt like his feet were encased in concrete while the rest of the world ran laps around him.
“Look, I know I haven’t always made it easy. Having to deal with some of my proclivities must have been aggravating. I’m sorry you felt like it was your responsibility to clean up after me.”
It went without saying that Winter had never asked him to. His twin had a brazen way of living life that Tripp had been embarrassed by from time to time. Only, the more he thought about it, he wasn’t sure if embarrassment was really the emotion he’d experienced. Envy, maybe? A hint of astonishment? Or had it all been fear about how the rest of the world might take what Winter had done?
Damn.
“I’m the one who should be sorry,” Tripp said. “It’s always been easier to get mad at you then give you the benefit of the doubt. I should care more about your feelings than what people think of you, or us. I just…”
“Never wanted the world to look at you like you’re a colossal fuck-up,” Winter finished for him. “But let me ask you this: What difference does it make how they see us, as long as they love the music? In the grand scheme of things, that’s the only thing we owe them.”
Winter fell silent, letting those words hang between them while he dug around for another juice. He was right. He usually was, even when Tripp didn’t want to see it. Maybe here, under the endless blue sky, they could close the book on that chapter of their lives and get back to the way they’d been when they were kids and Tripp was just as eager as Winter to take on the universe.
Chapter 14
To watch the sun and taste the sky
Sunrise yoga and meditation had sounded like a wonderful way to work some shit out, until the alarm went off and Tripp was reminded of exactly how early sunrise truly was. Groggy, he’d stumbled out the spa’s front door and down the red-paved path, expecting to be the only idiot showing up out there.
How wrong he was.
Dez and Winter sat side by side in front of the yogi, the three of them quietly listening to the bubbling sounds of a nearby fountain. There was a third mat beside Dez already waiting for him, so he sat down silently and took up the same cross-legged position they were in.
“Focus on your breathing,” the yogi said in a clear, melodic voice, steady and calm, the way Tripp hoped to feel by the end of the session. He’d fallen asleep to a slew of emails from management, everything from information about the upcoming tour to the progress they’d made in tracking down the reporter who’d set Winter up. As it was, they’d put the man on blast all over the dirt sheets, bringing his personal integrity into question and making it clear to any of the reputable magazines that they would not be granting interviews to any that did business with him.
They’d had all kinds of questions and concerns about the deal Winter had worked out with Wild Child too, but his brother had exercised the same clause in his contract that Tripp had objected to a year and a half ago when his brother had asked for it to be put in and there was nothing they could do but accept it and move ahead with plans that would not include Winter. Which meant Tripp was already being called on to fulfill some of the requests from fans.
Just thinking about it was making his shoulders tense.
Exhaling, he focused on emptying his mind, listening to the music of the fountain, rather than the lingering echoes of the things he’d read. Watching the sunrise was like watching someone paint the sky. A slash of pink, a smear of rose, the first hint of a yellow glow outlining the rock formations. It was breathtaking to be able to watch the process without a building getting in the way.
Time became irrelevant. There was just the fountain, the sky, and the slow, steady breaths he was taking. The yogi guided them through the first stretch, reminding them to breathe. She worked her way from the neck to the ankles before assuming the first pose. A series of pops ran down the middle of his back as he felt his vertebrae crack, everything loosening and lengthening a little. He wasn’t the only one who sounded like a Rice Crispy either. Dez let out a low, relieved groan after a particularly loud pop, and Winter’s neck sounded like Pop Rocks with a splash of Coke.
Inhale, exhale, switch positions and hold. More colors bloomed in the sky and the fountain’s gurgle was joined by bird song. It was almost surreal how serene everything was. It seemed to Tripp the session ended too quickly. The yogi invited them to take as much time as they needed at the spot, even as she left them to their own devices.
No one said a word.
No one broke the spell.
Tripp didn’t look in their direction, so he had no way of knowing if they looked at him. Everything was so tranquil. He wasn’t ready to start thinking yet.
“I’ll catch up to you later.”
Tripp knew the sentiment wasn’t meant for him, so he didn’t bother acknowledging Dez’s words, but Winter did.