Chapter Thirty-Eight
Walker
The sky was black and spotted with stars outside Walker’s bedroom window. He watched through tired, scratched eyes as dawn lightened it to a deep navy, then a cold purplish haze. He hadn’t slept a wink.
He could still feel the fury in the slam of Gabi’s hands against his chest, see the look of outrage on her face as he told her what he thought of her behaviour.
He’d seen the anger change, flash through hurt and end on spite as she told him exactly what she thought of him in return.
Turned out he’d been right all along. He turned in the bed and pounded his pillow into a different shape.
He’d been having a good night until Gabi got up to her tricks on that ridiculous rodeo bull.
Betsy from the fire station had been keeping him company.
She was on good form, telling him funny stories about her boyfriend who was trying, and failing, to be a stand-up comedian.
More of a lie-down comedian, as Betsy called him.
He’d had a couple of beers with Alex, who was trying to keep his mind off Amber, and they’d been waiting for Fox to finish with the corporate schmooze to come and have a drink.
All was going well, until he saw Gabi, wearing hot pants and waving a cowboy hat on the back of a bucking bronco.
His first thought had been how hot she looked, head thrown back, arm in the air, riding that thing like her life depended on it.
His second thought had been astonishment that she’d be so stupid, and then his feet had been walking towards her before his head got a chance to stop him.
Fatboy Jim sprang neatly onto the pillow and butted him softly, head-to-head.
Walker closed his eyes and listened to Jim’s purr, thinking maybe that would calm him, soothe him to sleep.
He was so very, very tired. He felt himself slipping, sliding softly into the dark.
Then he jolted awake as he remembered the fury and contempt on Gabi’s face outside The Bolthole.
He turned his pillow over to get a cold side. Saw the lights of the first plane of the day cross the sky in the dawn. Wondered briefly where it was heading, and whether he’d be able to sleep if he went there.
The truth hit him like a dumper truck and he shot up in bed. Gabi was right. He wouldn’t be able to sleep wherever he was, because he turned into a scared little boy at night. And it had got so bad that he was too terrified to close his eyes.
He threw the covers back, knocking over a glass of water on the bedside table. Fatboy Jim shot off the bed in disgust as Walker pulled on clothes.
The fact was, Walker was scared of so many things. Messing things up. Letting people down. Doing the wrong thing. Not making the right decision. People getting hurt or dying on his watch.
He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror as he pulled a hoodie over his head. His eyes were dark and blank. His teeth were gritted so tight his jaw hurt. He looked haunted. He ran his hands through his hair. He couldn’t live like this any more.
He picked up his car keys and ran out of the house. He knew he was driving too fast as he pushed the accelerator to the floor, but he couldn’t stop. Anything was better than living like this.