7. Chapter Seven #2
"Walker," Dion clipped out, and strode out of the kitchen. He clicked to the dogs, and while they both shot a confused look in my direction, they immediately followed.
Walker stood in the heavy silence for a long moment, his expression carefully neutral. "I'll give you a ride," he said finally. "We'll get your car back to you later."
"Thank you," I whispered, not arguing because I was in no state to drive, even though guilt was already eating at me. The look on Dion's face before he'd walked away—I'd never seen anyone look so devastated.
"Give me two minutes," I said, heading towards the bedrooms.
I stumbled to the Little room on shaking legs, my heart hammering against my ribs.
Barnaby sat where I'd left him, propped against the pillows, his button eyes seeming to watch me with reproach.
I picked him up, intending to put him back where I'd found him, but found myself clutching him to my chest instead.
I didn't have anything to collect so I wasn't sure why I'd come back.
"I'm sorry," I whispered to the empty room, to Dion wherever he was, to myself. "I'm so sorry."
But I couldn't stay. Not after what I'd said. Not after I'd compared him to the monsters who'd hurt me. The words had been designed to wound, and they'd found their mark with devastating precision.
I twisted my hair into a severe bun, trying to become the professional Emily Carter again.
When I came back, Walker was waiting by the door with his keys.
He didn't push for conversation as we got into his truck.
It wasn't until we were halfway down Dion's long driveway that I realized I was still clutching Barnaby to my chest. I should have asked Walker to turn around so I could return him, but I couldn't bear the thought of seeing Dion's face again. Not after what I'd said.
"I didn't mean it," I whispered, more to myself than to Walker.
He glanced at me briefly before returning his eyes to the road. "I know."
"I shouldn't have said that to him. Comparing him to... to those men. I was just so angry."
"Anger makes us say things we don't mean," Walker said quietly.
I hugged Barnaby tighter, burying my face in his soft fur to hide the tears that threatened.
Walker was silent for a long moment. "Dion's a good man," he finally said. "The best I know. But he's not perfect. Going through your files without permission was wrong."
I didn't reply.
"But is that really why you're leaving?"
I stared out the window. "What do you mean?"
Walker glanced at me again. "I'm guessing you found something back there—something you've been wanting for a long time. And the moment it got real, you found an excuse to run."
"He violated my trust," I protested weakly.
"He made a mistake," Walker corrected. "A big one.
But people who care about you sometimes make mistakes because they care.
He looked at the files because in his mind he was protecting you, and as far as you're concerned that's his driving force in everything.
It's what he is. The question is whether you're going to let one mistake destroy something that could be good for you. "
I clutched Barnaby tighter, feeling like a hypocrite. Here I was, running away while holding onto the bear from Dion's playroom—the bear I'd named after my childhood one. The bear that represented everything I'd always wanted but had been too afraid to ask for.
"I don't know how to do this," I whispered. "I don't know how to need someone."
"My grandmother said the same thing," Walker replied softly. "Right up until the day she died."
"I don't want to be that person," I whispered, tears streaming down my face.
"Then don't be," Walker said simply. "It's not too late; I can turn around.
" I left that offer hanging while we drove in silence for a while, my thoughts churning.
I wanted to go back to Dion, to apologize, to try to explain.
But the words I'd flung at him hung in the air between us like a physical barrier.
How could he ever forgive me for comparing him to the men who had abducted me?
"He was in a very dark place after his last deployment," Walker said suddenly. "We all were, but Dion... he took it harder than most. What we saw, what we couldn't prevent—it changed him."
I looked at Walker, surprised by this unexpected glimpse into Dion's past.
"He built that room when he got back," Walker continued, eyes fixed on the road. "Said he needed to create something beautiful after seeing so much ugliness. Said maybe someday he could protect someone properly, the way he couldn't protect those kids."
My breath caught in my throat. "Kids?"
Walker's knuckles whitened on the steering wheel.
"Refugees. We were sent in to extract three US diplomats and their families, but we were too late for some of them.
" His voice had gone flat, professional, but I could hear the pain underneath.
"Dion found a little girl hidden in a closet.
She'd been there for days. Didn't make it. "
"Oh my God," I whispered, clutching Barnaby tighter. The image of Dion finding a child too late, after everything he'd done to try to save her—it made his protectiveness toward me suddenly make painful sense.
Walker nodded grimly. "That room isn't just a space for someone's Little side. It's his way of trying to make the world right again. To create safety where there was none."
We lapsed into silence as we turned onto my street. I stared at my apartment building, suddenly dreading going inside. It no longer felt like home, just a place where I kept my things.
"I'll walk you up," Walker said as he parked. "Check the place out first."
I didn't argue. After everything that had happened, the thought of entering my apartment alone made my skin crawl.
Walker insisted on going in first, his hand hovering near his waistband where I suspected he carried a weapon.
I waited in the hallway, still clutching Barnaby, feeling ridiculous but unable to let him go.
"All clear," Walker called after a few minutes, and I stepped in. "You have all our numbers. Call immediately if someone comes here or tries to get you to leave." I didn't reply because I was quietly freaking out, but then he walked to the door and closed it quietly behind him.
And I was alone.