“Clothes, work uniform, my shoes. Toothbrush and the stuff in the medicine cabinet.” My voice trembled. “And my photo.”
He nodded again. “I’ll get the bathroom.”
It was so different, having someone help. Walker started carefully putting my things in the bag I’d brought. Toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant, everything lined up neatly. He didn’t touch the used syringes in their ziplock bag, just zipped the whole thing inside a compartment like it was nothing.
I went to my dresser. Another shiver. The drawers were too neat, the clothes all folded. I’d never folded my underwear like that, and the thought that someone else had touched them made me want to throw up. It was almost worse than if someone had tossed the place. I pulled out my work uniform, a couple pairs of jeans, two sweaters, underwear. The rest was thrift store stuff I barely wore. I left it for now.
Walker’s footsteps were so heavy in the tiny apartment. I could hear him moving in the kitchen, opening and closing drawers. “Anything from here?” he called.
“Just the Tupperware and maybe the coffee mug?” My voice barely carried, but he just grunted like he was used to listening for smaller voices.
He came back in, holding the mug and my sad little box of instant oatmeal packets. “If you want to clear out the fridge, now’s the time.” He was gentle, not bossy. “You don’t have to come back after this unless you want to.”
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 muscleand 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.”
