Chapter Thirty-One
Gabi
Later, much later, when her breath had calmed down and her heart had stopped pounding, Gabi noticed the steady patter of rain on the windowpane. It sounded heavier than before. She shifted against Walker, cocooned against his chest.
‘I should go,’ she said into his shoulder, reluctantly.
‘Really? I’ll walk you then,’ he murmured without moving. They lay there together and then a second later he whispered, ‘Or you could stay?’
She paused momentarily. Not wanting to leave, but unsure of the protocol or the ground rules for a holiday hook-up. The room was suddenly bright as lightning flashed outside the window and a second later thunder rolled ominously. Her decision was made easy. She snuggled in.
‘I’ll drop you back in the morning,’ he said. ‘In case the pavements are slippery.’
Gabi laughed quietly. ‘I’m sure I can manage a wet pavement, Walker.’ He didn’t reply but she could bet he was going to drop her off anyway.
‘What’s this?’ he asked then, tracing a silvery scar about an inch long on the back of her arm. She reached round to feel it.
‘Fell off my roller skates,’ she said. ‘Gave myself concussion too. Didn’t have someone like you strapping my helmet on like Riley.’
He dropped his chin to the spot, his stubble scratching lightly at the scar, almost a kiss but not quite.
‘Ah, no. I hope your mum kissed it better?’
‘Mum wasn’t there. She’d left by then.’ She forced a laugh.
‘Where did your mum go?’
‘Paris, first. With her next husband.’
‘Is she still there?’
‘She’s now in Brazil with husband number four.’
‘Wow.’ She felt the shake of Walker’s head on the pillow.
‘That’s one word for it.’
Rain was drumming now on the window and she watched it run in rivulets down the pane. She shivered, feeling suddenly bare.
‘Do you see her much?’ Walker asked, pulling the duvet over her and enfolding her in it.
Gabi shook her head. ‘Not really. She’s not what you’d call maternal. In fact, she should probably never have had children. She sends a postcard every now and then. It’s so occasional, it surprises me when it arrives.’
‘What about your dad?’
‘Oh, Dad you can really rely on. He messages me religiously on the first of every month.’ She laughed again.
‘In fact, I think he might have it as a reminder in his diary. Because it’s always the first of the month.
And it’s always the same thing. Are you okay and do you need anything?
And I always reply with a yes, I’m fine, and no, I don’t. ’
‘That’s it?’ Walker sounded incredulous.
‘He didn’t know what to do with me when Mamma left. I was a preteen girl, and he was a single dad who had no idea what he was doing. So, I went to Isabella’s to stay and then I went to boarding school. I haven’t lived with my dad since I was twelve. It made me grow up pretty quick.’
Another flash of lightning. They both waited for the thunder. Within seconds, it crashed overhead.
‘But he’s still there. Still asking. Still wanting you to reply,’ Walker said.
‘I guess so,’ she said doubtfully. ‘But only out of duty.’
‘No wonder you’re so stubborn, so independent,’ Walker said.
‘Well, I know I can rely on myself.’
Walker seemed to consider that.
‘I get that, but it sounds like a tough gig,’ he said. ‘My parents were so supportive when I was growing up, I always knew they were there for me. I wish you’d been able to feel some of that too.’
He stroked her shoulder with his fingers, trailing them slowly down her back as she leaned against him.
‘Even at my lowest points, I knew I could rely on them. They’d move heaven and earth to make sure I was happy. I’m sorry your parents didn’t make you feel the same.’
Gabi could tell he meant it, could hear the empathy in his voice. Unexpected emotion tightened her chest and she swallowed, hard. Lightning forked across the window again.
‘Can you turn the light off, so we can watch?’ she said, changing the subject.
Walker eased to the edge of the bed and reached out, and she saw the totality of the tattoos on his back for the first time, having only caught glimpses earlier.
They were huge, spanning his shoulders and spreading over his lats, covering the entirety of his upper back.
‘Wait,’ she instructed, putting a hand on them, fascinated by their intricacy. He flinched at her touch, stiffened.
‘These are beautiful,’ she said, tracing the angel wing on each shoulder blade, the feathering on his ribs. He put his hand on the lamp to turn it off, but she stopped him.
‘What’s this?’ She traced the words between the wings.
Never Enough.
‘When did you get these done?’ Walker looked at her over his shoulder. His sandy hair fell across his forehead.
‘It’s a work in progress,’ he said.
‘And the words?’ she asked, tracing the black ink with her finger. ‘What do they mean?’
He stood swiftly and snapped out the light, moving to stand in front of the window. He leaned one hand on the window frame, illuminated by the next lightning strike. The bed suddenly felt cold.
‘Walker?’
Gabi wasn’t quite sure what she was asking for – reassurance that he was okay, or for him to come back to bed.
‘The words mean exactly what they say.’ His voice was flat. ‘I will never be enough.’ The mood had darkened again and Gabi felt unsure as to how to bring him back.
Lightning streaked again and thunder clapped directly overhead. His body was like marble in the blue-white light, his head tilted skywards. She hobbled over to him, feeling his vulnerability there in the storm. She wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned her forehead against his back.
‘Like I said earlier, everyone I’ve met in Honeybridge thinks you are a good man.’ She squeezed and tried to lighten the atmosphere. ‘And you just proved yourself more than enough for me . . .’
The thunder rolled continuously now and the lightning lit the sky like static on a screen, flashing intermittently. They were right in the eye of the storm.
‘Someone died, Gabi. Because of me. So, whatever I do will never be enough. Because I didn’t save them.’