“Let’s take it one step at a time,” Walker interrupted before I went into a meltdown. He glanced at the doc. “Are you happy for the moment?”
He nodded. “So long as I can trust you to stay on top of it and check her sugar levels.” It took me a moment to realize he was talking to Walker not to me and—
"But how much—" I tried again.
"Don't worry about that," he said firmly.
My throat tightened. It was too much—the kindness, the help, the way they were both acting like taking care of me was normal and not an imposition.
"I can't pay you back," I whispered, hating how my voice cracked. "Not right away."
"Nobody's asking you to," Walker said, his voice gentle but firm.
Dr. Atkins closed his bag. "I'd like to see you again in three days. In the meantime, follow the management plan we discussed, get plenty of rest, and eat regular meals." He handed me a business card. "My personal number is on there. Call anytime if you have concerns." He glanced at Walker. "Upload her sugar levels as we discussed."
Upload?Like to some sort of app?
After he left, I sat at the kitchen island, turning the card over in my hands. The silence stretched between Walker and me, filled with all the things I couldn't bring myself to say.
"You okay?" Walker asked finally.
"No," I admitted, surprising myself with my honesty. Walker didn’t say anything at first. He just let the silence build, sitting next to me at the kitchen island, his hand warm and solid against my shoulder. There was no judgment in his touch, or the way he watched me. Like he was waiting for the truth, the real answer, not just the easy words.
I tried to swallow past the lump in my throat. “Everything’s so…out of control. I don’t know how to fix any of it.” My voice broke, and I hated it, but he didn’t flinch away or give me pity. He just stayed there, steady.
“You don’t have to fix it all at once,” he said, his voice lower, rougher. “You’ve been carrying this alone for too long.”
I shook my head. “But I can’t just fall apart. If I mess up, everything goes to hell. I lose my job, my apartment, my…” I couldn’t even finish. My dignity, maybe. My right to be seen as a person, instead of the problem I'd been all my life.
He made a low sound, almost a growl, and slid his hand up to the back of my neck. The pressure was gentle but firm, grounding. “Lottie, listen to me. You’re not going to lose anything. Not while I’m around.”
I wanted to believe him. I did. But the panic was still there, eating at the edges of my sanity. “You say that now, but people always say that. Then they get tired. Or annoyed. Or they realize how much work it is, and they’re gone.” There'd been a school friend. She'd been cool, then I'd gone hypo at her house. That was when my uncle had decided I should be homeschooled by his new housekeeper. Not that Miss Beatrice was bad, but she wasn't a friend.
For a second his expression twisted, and I thought I’d hurt him. But he just leaned in, his eyes dark and steady on mine. “I’m notpeople. I don’t quit. If I say I’m taking care of you, that’s exactly what’s going to happen. You don’t ever have to earn that.”
The words hit me hard. Nobody had ever said anything like that and meant it. Not my family, not my uncle, not even the nurses at the clinic who were always too rushed to really see me. I tried to steady my breathing, staring down at my lap. My hands trembled.
Walker’s thumb traced the line of my jaw, so light it barely registered as touch, but I felt it everywhere. “You’re exhausted,” he murmured. “You’ve got nothing left because you’ve been running on empty for far too long.” He let out a slow breath. “You need to rest. I’ll handle the rest of the world for a bit.”
“I can’t just…” I tried to pull back, but his touch anchored me. “I can’t make myself that helpless.”
He huffed, a soft noise, almost amused but not really. “Letting someone help isn’t being helpless. It’s smart. It’s survival.” His hand slid down, covering mine on the countertop. “You don’t have to keep proving you can do it all by yourself.”
I wanted to let go. I did. The urge to lean into that warmth was so strong it made my head spin. But the habit of holding myself together was stronger. “It’s not just the diabetes,” I whispered. “It’s everything. My whole life. I’ve always been behind, always scrambling to catch up when everyone else seemed to just…move on. I never got a break. Not after my parents. Not with my uncle. Not once.” I could barely breathe, the pressure in my chest so tight it almost hurt.
Walker didn’t look away. He didn’t try to offer empty words or tell me it would get better. He just sat there, steady and strong, like if the world fell apart around us he’d still be there, holding my pieces together.
I sucked in a shaky breath, trying to make my voice work. “It’s like…I’m always one mistake away from disaster. If I mess up my meds, my job, my rent, it all just collapses. I can’t afford to be tired. Or sad. Or anything.”
“I know,” he said, so low it almost sounded like a growl. “But I’m not going to let that happen to you. Not now.” His hand flexed on my shoulder, the grip grounding me better than air.
“I don’t know how to let go,” I admitted. It felt like surrender, and surrender was dangerous, wasn’t it? He could change his mind. Anyone could. “If I let go, what if there’s nothing left? What if I just…fall apart?”
He leaned in closer, so close I could feel the heat of his body, catch the scent of cedar and soap and something darker. “Then I’ll be here to catch you, princess. Every damn time.”
The tight, horrible knot in my chest unraveled a little. My eyes burned, but I blinked quickly, refusing to let the tears fall. He made it sound so easy. Like I wasn’t a mess, like he wanted all of me, even the parts I hated.
He must have seen the fear in my face, because his hand gentled at the back of my neck, thumb stroking slow, reassuring circles. “One step at a time, remember? You don’t have to carry everything alone. Not anymore.”
