Chapter 2 #2
Relief flooded his features. "Good. That's good." He studied my face, taking in the bruise I could feel forming on my cheek. "We need to get you checked out at the hospital."
"No," I said immediately, surprising myself with the firmness in my voice. "No hospitals. Please."
Walker frowned. "Lottie, you're hurt. You need—"
"I can't afford it," I whispered, shame burning my cheeks. "I don’t have insurance. I’ll just—”
"Okay, I won't take you to the hospital," Walker said, his voice softening as he studied my face. "But I do know someone who can help. A doctor who works with us at Salvation. Will you let me take you somewhere safe so he can check you over?"
I hesitated, clutching Mr. Snuggles tighter against my chest. My face throbbed, and I could feel the tender swelling on my cheek. "Will it cost anything?"
"No," Walker said firmly. "Not a penny. I promise."
I nodded, too exhausted and shaken to argue further. Walker's arm came around me again, steady and strong as he guided me toward a black SUV parked half on the sidewalk, hazard lights still blinking.
"How did you find me?" I asked as he helped me into the passenger seat.
Walker secured my seatbelt before answering, his movements gentle but efficient.
"I had a bad feeling when you said you had a ride.
So, I checked the cameras outside the club.
" He closed my door and walked around to the driver's side.
"You got on the 42 bus. When I looked I discovered that route doesn't run all the way through after nine. "
"You followed me?" I wasn't sure whether to feel disturbed or grateful.
"I tried to catch up to you before you got off," he said, starting the engine. "But the lights were against me, so I was about thirty seconds too late." His knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. "I'm sorry, Lottie."
"You saved me," I whispered, watching his profile in the dashboard lights. "How did you know how to fight like that?"
A muscle in his jaw ticked. "Military. Special forces."
That explained a lot about Walker—his watchfulness, his controlled movements, the way he'd neutralized three men without seeming to break a sweat.
We drove in silence for several minutes.
I leaned my head against the cool window, trying not to think about what might have happened if Walker hadn't shown up when he did.
My only nice dress was ruined, torn down the front in a way I couldn't hide.
I clutched the edges of Walker's jacket closer around me.
"We're almost there," Walker said, turning onto what seemed like a private drive then through a barrier that lifted as soon as his car approached. "My place."
I looked at him in surprise. "Your house?"
"My doctor friend is meeting us there." He pulled into the driveway of a large house and I tried to swallow my nerves. Was I safe? Or had I been foolish coming here without questioning him.
The house was dark except for a porch light that flickered on as we approached—motion sensors, I realized. Walker helped me out of the car with the same careful movements, one hand at my elbow, the other hovering near my back without quite touching.
"Can you make it up the steps?" he asked.
I nodded, but my knees turned to jelly. Before I could collapse, Walker scooped me up, cradling me against his chest like I weighed nothing. I should have protested—I barely knew him—but I clung to him, hugging Mr. Snuffles tightly, his ears squished against my cheek.
“I…I’m okay,” I mumbled, voice so soft I nearly whispered, fingers kneading the bear’s scruffy nose.
Walker murmured, “I have you. You’re safe now,” his breath warm against my hair as he carried me up the porch steps.
A tall, lean man with salt-and-pepper hair got out of a car as we approached. His eyes swept over me with cool precision.
“Bring her in,” he said, following us. “I’m Dr. Atkins—Edward.”
Walker carried me through a sparsely furnished living room and gently set me on a butter-soft leather couch. I sank gratefully into the cushions, clutching Walker’s jacket around my shoulders and pressing Mr. Snuffles to my chest.
“What happened?” Dr. Atkins asked, placing a medical bag on the coffee table with a soft thud.
“Three drunks cornered her,” Walker said, voice low and tight. “Hit her, tore her clothes. I got there before it went further.”
Dr. Atkins nodded, then offered me a gentle smile that eased the sharp lines of his face. “I need to examine you, okay? Just to make sure there aren’t any hidden injuries.”
I blinked at the ripped hem of my dress, cheeks burning. “Um…my dress is torn,” I whispered, tugging at the fabric.
Dr. Atkins glanced at Walker without missing a beat. “Why don’t you fetch something for her to change into?”
Walker hesitated, then gave a small nod. “Right. I’ll be back in a minute.” His eyes lingered on me for a heartbeat longer before he slipped away.
I closed my eyes and pressed a knuckle to my lips to stop them from trembling. Dr. Atkins snapped on latex gloves with quiet efficiency.
“I’m going to look at your head first, then check for any other bruises or bumps—hope that’s okay.”
I opened one eye and managed a tiny nod. “Thank you.”
His touch was careful. He felt along my cheek and jaw. He directed me to follow his finger with my eyes, then gently pressed on the back of my head where it had hit the wall.
“You're certainly covered in bruises," he said. I pulled my torn dress a little tighter. Not all the bruises were from tonight, but he didn't need to know that. "Any dizziness? Nausea?” he asked.
I shook my head, then winced as a throbbing ache curled behind my eyes. My fingers cramped around Mr. Snuffles’ paw.
“Headache?”
“A little,” I admitted, voice barely a whisper.
He pressed where the lump had formed and frowned. “You’ve got a bump here, but I don’t think it’s a concussion. Still, you’ll need monitoring tonight.”
I heard footsteps, and Walker reappeared holding a neat stack of soft clothing.
Relief washed through me so suddenly I let out a shaky breath.
Dr. Atkins nodded toward the stack of clothes.
"Why don't you get changed first? There's a bathroom just down the hall—second door on the left.
" I supposed the doc had to be a friend if he knew Walker's house so well.
I looked at the clothes Walker had brought, then back at the two men watching me with concerned expressions. My hands shook as I tried to stand, and suddenly everything felt too big, too overwhelming. The room, the situation, even my own body felt foreign and frightening.
"I don't...I can't..." My voice came out small and wavering.
Walker stepped forward immediately, his expression softening. "What do you need, sweetheart?"
The endearment made something inside me crumble. I pressed Mr. Snuggles against my face, breathing in his familiar scent. " What if they come back?" I whispered into his fur.
"They can't hurt you here," Walker said gently, crouching down beside the couch so we were at eye level. "You're safe."
But I couldn't stop the tears that had started flowing. Everything felt wrong—my torn dress, the taste of blood in my mouth where I'd bitten my cheek, the way my hands wouldn't stop shaking.
"Hey," Walker's voice was impossibly gentle. "Look at me, Lottie."
I peeked over Mr. Snuggles' head, meeting his dark eyes.
"You're being so brave," he said. "But you don't have to be brave right now. Not here."
Something in his tone, the way he spoke to me like I was precious and fragile, made me want to curl up in a ball and let someone else handle everything. I hadn't felt safe enough to be small like this since...maybe ever.
"Will you..." I swallowed hard, my cheeks burning with embarrassment. "Will you stay close? While I change?"
Was it bad that I didn’t want privacy from Walker? Safety trumped that even if I tried to tell myself I was being a baby.
Walker picked up the clothes—a soft gray t-shirt that would probably hang to my knees, and a pair of flannel pajama pants with a drawstring waist. "These will be big, sorry, but they’re clean."
I nodded, clutching the clothes to my chest along with Mr. Snuggles. Walker guided me to the bathroom, his hand gentle on my back.
"I'll be right here," he promised, positioning himself just outside the door. "If you need anything, just call out." I had to fight the urge to ask him to come inside.
The bathroom looked new like the rest of the place, with pale blue walls and white fixtures.
I set Mr. Snuggles on the small counter where I could see him, then carefully peeled off my ruined dress.
The pink fabric was torn beyond repair, and seeing it made tears spring to my eyes again.
It had been my favorite, one of only nice things I owned.
It was ruined. I was ruined. I took a breath to tell myself to grow up.
That it could have been a lot worse, but the breath exhaled on a sob, and I sank to the floor, big ugly sobs tearing out of me.
The sound of my sobs must have carried through the door, because I heard Walker's voice, concerned but calm.
"Lottie? I'm coming in, okay?"
The door opened slowly, and Walker stepped inside the small powder room. He took one look at me crumpled on the floor in my torn dress and immediately knelt beside me.
"Hey, hey," he murmured, his voice infinitely gentle. "It's okay. You're okay."
I couldn't stop crying, couldn't catch my breath. Everything felt too big, too scary. The dress was ruined, and I couldn't even manage to get changed by myself.
"I can't," I sobbed, clutching the clean clothes to my chest. "I can't do it. Everything hurts and my hands won't stop shaking and—"
"Breathe, sweetheart," Walker said, settling more comfortably on the floor beside me. "Just breathe with me. In and out."
He demonstrated, taking slow, deep breaths until I found myself matching his rhythm without thinking about it. Gradually, my sobs quieted to hiccups.
"Better?" he asked.
I nodded, wiping my nose with the back of my hand like a little kid.
"Okay. Let me help you, all right? Nothing inappropriate, I promise. Just helping you get into clean clothes."
I looked up at him through my tears. His expression was so kind, so patient, that I felt safe enough to nod again.
Walker helped me stand, then held my hand for balance while I slipped out of the torn dress.
His movements were clinical, respectful—like he was a medic helping an injured soldier.
When I struggled with the t-shirt, my hands still shaking, he helped guide my arms through the sleeves.
The pajama pants required rolling up the legs and cinching the waistband tight, but they stayed up.
"There," he said softly, smoothing the shirt down. "Much better."
I caught sight of myself in the mirror and almost started crying again. The shirt hung on me like a tent, the bruise on my cheek was already turning purple, and my face was swollen. I looked pathetic.
"I look awful," I whispered.
"You look brave my little warrior," Walker corrected, meeting my eyes in the mirror. "And safe. That's what matters."
He scooped up Mr. Snuggles from the counter and handed him to me, then guided me back to the living room where Dr. Atkins was waiting. The rest of the examination was quick, and he gave me an ice pack for my cheek.
"She needs rest and to be monitored tonight," he told Walker as he packed up his bag. "Wake her every few hours to check for signs of head trauma, but she should be fine by morning."
After Dr. Atkins left, Walker turned to me where I sat curled up on his couch, clutching Mr. Snuggles.
"You should get some sleep," he said gently. "I'll show you to the guest room."
But as soon as he said it, panic fluttered in my chest. The thought of being alone in a dark room, even in Walker's safe house, made my breathing quicken.
"I don't want to be alone," I whispered, ashamed of how small my voice sounded. "What if—"
"Hey," Walker interrupted softly, crouching down in front of me again. "It's okay. You don't have to be alone."
He helped me to my feet, his hand steady at my elbow as he led me down a short hallway. The bedroom was simply furnished—a queen-sized bed with navy blue sheets, a dresser, and a bedside table with a lamp that cast warm light across the room.
I stood uncertainly in the doorway, hugging Mr. Snuggles tighter. Walker seemed to understand my hesitation without me having to explain.
"Would it help if I stayed?" he asked quietly. "I could sit in the chair, or—"
I nodded eagerly, wishing I had the courage to ask him to get in bed with me.
He pulled back the covers for me, and I climbed into bed still wearing his oversized clothes. The sheets smelled clean and masculine, like his jacket had. Walker disappeared for a moment, returning with a glass of water and some pain relievers which I took obediently.
"Thank you," I whispered into the darkness after he'd turned off the lamp. "For everything."
"You don't need to thank me, Lottie," he replied, low and gentle. "Just sleep. I'll be right here."
For the first time in hours, my body began to relax. The pain medication was starting to work, and exhaustion pulled at my eyelids.