Chapter 11 #3
I nodded and took a deep breath. The fridge had half a loaf of bread, two apples, and a dozen eggs. The apples had soft spots. I dumped them. The eggs I wrapped in a towel for padding. All the while, Walker just hovered near me, not crowding but not leaving either.
It was done so quickly. I thought it would take longer, but honestly, I didn’t own much. The backpack was full and so was the grocery sack I’d brought. He’d already grabbed my diabetes supplies, and my photo of my parents was tucked under his arm like it was precious.
“Is that everything?” he asked, voice so soft it nearly broke me.
I looked around. There was nothing else. I nodded.
He stepped closer, held out his hand. “Let’s go.”
I reached for him, and Walker took my hand, heading for the stairs. I heard the cough from someone else and looked up.
Marco. I recoiled, flat out recoiled, and Walker’s hand shot out to steady me before I could even process what I was seeing.
He was halfway up the stairs as we came down, clutching a cheap bouquet of wilted daisies in one fist and a plastic grocery sack in the other. He stopped dead when he saw Walker, his face going ugly in an instant. For a second nobody said anything.
Walker's body language changed. Gone was the soft, protective man from his kitchen. Now he was a wall of muscle and warning. He stepped a fraction in front of me, not enough to block my view, but enough to make a point.
Marco’s eyes flicked from Walker to me. His nostrils flared. “Lottie,” he said, pretending to be surprised, but his gaze was cold and calculating. “I was just coming to check on you. I brought flowers.”
The daisies were drooping, half-crushed. It was almost funny. I hugged Mr. Snuggles tighter and pressed into Walker’s side.
Walker’s voice dropped, quiet and dangerous. “You should have gotten the doctor’s note.”
Marco’s lips twitched. “I did.” He gave a short, humorless laugh, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Wasn’t expecting to see you out, though, if you’re sick?” His tone danced the line between friendly and threatening, each word a calculated dig.
“I’ll be staying with Walker for a little while,” I said, my voice barely above a squeak. “Doctor’s orders.”
His attention snapped to me, and for a second, his mask slipped. Something mean and hungry flickered over his face. Then it was gone, replaced by oily concern.
“I was sorry to hear you're sick,” Marco said, stepping up the last two stairs so we were almost eye to eye. He looked at the bags in my hands, then at Walker, then at me again. “but I hope you’re not planning on missing too many shifts. Sunny’s doesn’t run itself.”
Walker’s hand settled heavy and solid on my back.
“She’s got a medical excuse,” Walker said, his voice like steel cable. “And if there’s any further issue, you can talk to her physician directly.”
Marco’s mouth twisted. He clutched the flowers tighter, crushing the stems in his fist. “I was just looking out for her. Not many people do.” His eyes cut to mine. “You know you can always call me, Lottie. Day or night.”
The words made my skin crawl thinking of him taking pictures. I tried to step farther behind Walker, but his arm was already around me, anchoring me in place.
“She appreciates your concern, Marco,” Walker said, and the warning in his tone was unmistakable. “But Lottie needs to get off her feet. She needs rest.”
Red crept up Marco’s neck. “That’s a shame,” he said, but there was nothing sincere about it. “You know, Lottie, it’s not always smart to trust strangers. Some people act like they’re doing you a favor, but they want something in return.”
Walker went still. I could practically feel the danger rolling off him in waves, but his voice stayed polite. “It’s a good thing Lottie’s got people in her corner. She won’t have to worry about favors.”
Marco’s gaze sharpened, and he shifted the crushed daisies to his other hand.
“You sure about that?” he asked, eyes locked on Walker’s face.
“Sometimes people say they want to help, but what they’re really doing is making someone dependent.
” He looked at me, then, holding my gaze a beat too long.
“You should be careful who you trust, Lottie. Things don’t always work out the way you expect. ”
Something in my chest twisted. I tried to step back, but Walker’s arm stayed curved around me, steady and unmovable. Marco clocked the movement. His mouth flattened, but he didn’t back down.
“Just making sure you’re okay,” he said, but the words were sharp, almost mocking.
“You've got my number if you need anything. Day or night.” He angled his head, and his eyes flicked to the bags in my hands again. Marco fake-laughed. “Guess you found someone better to take care of you, huh?” He didn’t even try to hide the sneer in his voice.
I hugged Mr. Snuggles tighter, heart pounding. My voice barely worked. “I’m just…following doctor’s orders. I’m not allowed to work for a week.”
He stared at me like he was trying to memorize my face.
“Don’t forget, sick leave only lasts so long.
The world doesn’t stop for anybody. You run out of options, you know where to find me.
” I felt the change in Walker's posture at the threat and Marco obviously came to his senses as well, turned and jogged back down the steps.
I tried to focus on putting one foot in front of the other, but my brain kept spinning with Marco’s words. You should be careful who you trust. The way he’d looked at Walker, like he already knew how this ended. Like he’d seen it before.
Maybe he had. Maybe I was just the kind of person people always got tired of.
Walker kept my hand in his the whole way down the stairs, his thumb rubbing gentle little circles against my palm. Not a word out of him, just this steady pressure that should have been enough to make me feel safe, except now I wasn’t sure I deserved it.
The sunlight outside was too bright. I squinted, half-blind, and tried to breathe through the tightness in my chest.
Walker didn’t look back. He just kept walking, his hand warm and solid around mine, and he didn’t let go even when we reached the car and he unlocked the door for me.
He helped me in, settled my bags at my feet, and tucked Mr. Snuggles next to me on the seat.
Then he knelt down so we were eye level again.
“You okay?” The way he said it made it sound like he’d fight the whole world if I said no.
I tried to smile. My throat was too tight. “Yeah. I just want to get away from here.”
The drive back was quiet, but not in a bad way. Walker kept glancing over, checking on me, but he didn’t push. He just handed me my water bottle, like he already knew I was shaky inside and didn’t want to make it worse.
I sipped at the water and stared out the window, trying not to think about Marco.
Trying not to think about the way he’d said the world doesn’t stop for anybody.
What if he was right? What if this thing with Walker only worked because I was sick and helpless?
Would he still want me when I was better?
But then why on earth should I trust anything Marco said?
I didn’t know how to ask. I didn’t know what the right answer even looked like.
Back at Walker’s, everything was the same as before. The kitchen was warm and bright, and it didn’t smell like bleach or cigarettes or fear. I stood there for a second, Mr. Snuggles clutched in my hand, and tried to remember what it felt like to just…exist without all the panic.
Walker took my bag from me without asking, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“Let’s check your blood sugar first before we put your things away.
” His voice was soft, careful. “Then I can make us something to eat while you get settled in.” I nodded, watched as he got the meter, and tried not to flinch at how natural it felt.
He checked the number, careful as ever, like he’d been doing this for months.
My stomach twisted at how much I liked it.
The routine, the way his big hand wrapped around mine, the steadiness in his voice when he told me, “One-thirty. That’s good, princess.
” I didn’t even look at the meter. I just waited for him to tell me it was okay.
It was starting to scare me, how easy it was to let go. How much my body wanted to lean into his touch, how my brain kept slipping into soft, floaty places every time he praised me or touched my shoulder. If I wasn’t careful, I was going to forget how to even take care of myself.
Walker watched me for a second longer, like he could see the panic behind my eyes, but he didn’t say anything. He just squeezed my fingers gently, then set the kit down and turned to the fridge.
“You want to eat in here or in the family room?” His voice was low, casual, but it made my insides flutter.
I shrugged. “Here is fine.”
He nodded like it was the answer he expected and started pulling ingredients out of the fridge.
I sat at the island, twisting the sleeve of my hoodie around my fingers, and stared at him.
I knew I should go put my clothes away but I wanted to stay here.
He was so efficient, every movement neat and precise, like his whole life was built on routines that never changed.
“You okay?” He didn’t look up, but I could tell he was listening.
I tried to smile. “Just…not used to this much help,” I confessed, keeping my voice down. “It’s weird.”
He glanced at me, dark eyes steady. “You’ll get used to it.”
That was what I was afraid of. If I got used to it, what happened when it disappeared? But I didn’t say it. I just watched him put sandwich fixings together.
My blood sugar was stable, so I didn’t feel dizzy anymore. But my thoughts kept jumping. Every time he did something for me, I felt smaller and softer. It was terrifying and perfect all at once.
He set a plate in front of me, a turkey sandwich and hummus with raw veggies for dipping.
“Eat slow,” he said, and it wasn’t a request.
I obeyed him automatically.
The flavors were better than I remembered. Maybe it was just that I hadn’t eaten properly in so long, or maybe it was the way he watched to make sure I was okay, but every bite made me feel steadier.
Walker made his own and ate standing up, leaning on the counter.
The domesticity of it—the two of us in his kitchen, him watching out for me like it was the most normal thing in the world—was dangerous.
Too easy to pretend this was forever, not just a one-week experiment in seeing if I could be someone’s Little girl.
But I wanted it. I wanted it so badly my chest hurt, even as I knew it couldn’t last because good things never did.