I didn’t bother sitting in another chair, but gently lifted Lottie into my arms without waking her and strode to my bedroom. As far as I was concerned Lottie wasn’t going to be more than three feet away from me all night.
Chapter seven
Lottie
I woke gradually, awareness returning in slow waves. The first thing I noticed was warmth—solid, comforting warmth against my back. The second was that I wasn't on Walker's couch anymore, but in a bed with soft sheets that smelled like cedar and something distinctly masculine. The third was that I wasn't alone.
My eyes flew open as I registered the heavy arm draped over my waist, the steady breathing behind me. Walker. I was in bed with Walker.
I froze, afraid to move. He was fully clothed—I could feel the soft cotton of his t-shirt against my back—but the intimacy of the position sent my heart racing. How had I ended up here? The last thing I remembered was Dr. Atkins.
As if sensing my consciousness, Walker stirred behind me. His arm tightened briefly before he realized I was awake.
"Hey," he said, his voice morning-rough against my ear. "How are you feeling?"
"I—" My voice cracked, and I cleared my throat. "Better, I think. How did I get here?"
"I carried you up yesterday," he explained, shifting slightly but not removing his arm. "You looked uncomfortable and I didn't want you cold. Doc said your body temperature might fluctuate because of the dehydration."
That made sense, but it didn't explain why he was in bed with me instead of just covering me with more blankets.
"I'm sorry," I mumbled.
"Don't be." His voice was gentle, with no trace of annoyance or discomfort.
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. The tenderness in his tone made my throat tight with emotion.
After a moment, Walker shifted, propping himself up on one elbow to look at me. "We need to check your blood sugar. Doc said to do it as soon as you woke up."
Immediately, tension coiled in my stomach. I hated checking my blood sugar in front of people, hated the judgment that often followed when they saw the number—too high or too low, a visible measure of my failure to manage my own body.
"I can do it," I said quickly, attempting to sit up.
"Let me help," Walker said, already reaching for my testing kit on the nightstand. "Doc showed me how last night, and I promise to be gentle."
I wanted to refuse, to insist I could handle it myself, but the mere thought of pricking my own finger seemed overwhelming. I nodded reluctantly.
I watched as Walker prepared the glucose meter with unexpected dexterity, his large hands surprisingly gentle as hearranged the test strip and lancet. My cheeks burned with embarrassment—I wasn't used to someone else handling this intimate part of my life.
"Okay?" he asked, his dark eyes meeting mine.
I nodded, extending my hand reluctantly, then tensing and looking away. When Walker took it, his palm was warm against my cold fingers. He positioned the lancet against my fingertip with surprising gentleness.
"Small pinch," he warned, then pressed the button.
The tiny sting was barely noticeable. What caught me off guard was how carefully he squeezed my finger to draw the blood, his touch so light I could hardly feel it. No one had done this for me for years—not my uncle, and not the nurses at the clinic. It had always been a clinical procedure, not this tender ritual. I’d been shown as a child and then expected to cope.
The meter beeped, and I braced myself for disappointment.
"140," Walker announced, and the relief in his voice mirrored my own surprise. He glanced down at a piece of paper that was on the dresser. "Doc says that's in target range."
“That’s…actually good,” I admitted, my voice small. It was the best reading I’d seen in days.
Walker set the glucose meter aside but didn’t let go of my hand. His thumb brushed over my knuckles in that gentle, reassuring way of his, and my breath caught. “You need your insulin now, sweetheart,” he said softly. “Doc delivered these new auto-injector pens about an hour ago.”
My stomach knotted. “How much did that cost me?”
“Don’t you worry, princess.” The nickname and the lack of judgment in his tone made my eyes sting. “You don’t have to do this all alone anymore.”
