Marco’s gaze sharpened, and he shifted the crushed daisies to his other hand. “You sure about that?” he asked, eyes locked on Walker’s face. “Sometimes people say they want to help, but what they’re really doing is making someone dependent.” He looked at me, then, holding my gaze a beat too long. “You should be careful who you trust, Lottie. Things don’t always work out the way you expect.”
Something in my chest twisted. I tried to step back, but Walker’s arm stayed curved around me, steady and unmovable. Marco clocked the movement. His mouth flattened, but he didn’t back down.
“Just making sure you’re okay,” he said, but the words were sharp, almost mocking. “You've got my number if you need anything. Day or night.” He angled his head, and his eyes flicked to the bags in my hands again. Marco fake-laughed. “Guess you found someone better to take care of you, huh?” He didn’t even try to hide the sneer in his voice.
I hugged Mr. Snuggles tighter, heart pounding. My voice barely worked. “I’m just…following doctor’s orders. I’m not allowed to work for a week.”
He stared at me like he was trying to memorize my face. “Don’t forget, sick leave only lasts so long. The world doesn’t stop for anybody. You run out of options, you know where to find me.” I felt the change in Walker's posture at the threat and Marco obviously came to his senses as well, turned and jogged back down the steps.
I tried to focus on putting one foot in front of the other, but my brain kept spinning with Marco’s words.You should be careful who you trust.The way he’d looked at Walker, like he already knew how this ended. Like he’d seen it before.
Maybe he had. Maybe I was just the kind of person people always got tired of.
Walker kept my hand in his the whole way down the stairs, his thumb rubbing gentle little circles against my palm. Not a word out of him, just this steady pressure that should have been enough to make me feel safe, except now I wasn’t sure I deserved it.
The sunlight outside was too bright. I squinted, half-blind, and tried to breathe through the tightness in my chest.
Walker didn’t look back. He just kept walking, his hand warm and solid around mine, and he didn’t let go even when we reached the car and he unlocked the door for me. He helped me in, settled my bags at my feet, and tucked Mr. Snuggles next to me on the seat. Then he knelt down so we were eye level again.
“You okay?” The way he said it made it sound like he’d fight the whole world if I said no.
I tried to smile. My throat was too tight. “Yeah. I just want to get away from here.”
The drive back was quiet, but not in a bad way. Walker kept glancing over, checking on me, but he didn’t push. He justhanded me my water bottle, like he already knew I was shaky inside and didn’t want to make it worse.
I sipped at the water and stared out the window, trying not to think about Marco. Trying not to think about the way he’d said the world doesn’t stop for anybody. What if he was right? What if this thing with Walker only worked because I was sick and helpless? Would he still want me when I was better? But then why on earth should I trust anything Marco said?
I didn’t know how to ask. I didn’t know what the right answer even looked like.
Back at Walker’s, everything was the same as before. The kitchen was warm and bright, and it didn’t smell like bleach or cigarettes or fear. I stood there for a second, Mr. Snuggles clutched in my hand, and tried to remember what it felt like to just…exist without all the panic.
Walker took my bag from me without asking, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“Let’s check your blood sugar first before we put your things away.” His voice was soft, careful. “Then I can make us something to eat while you get settled in.” I nodded, watched as he got the meter, and tried not to flinch at how natural it felt. He checked the number, careful as ever, like he’d been doing this for months. My stomach twisted at how much I liked it. The routine, the way his big hand wrapped around mine, the steadiness in his voice when he told me, “One-thirty. That’s good, princess.” I didn’t even look at the meter. I just waited for him to tell me it was okay.
It was starting to scare me, how easy it was to let go. How much my body wanted to lean into his touch, how my brain kept slipping into soft, floaty places every time he praised me or touched my shoulder. If I wasn’t careful, I was going to forget how to even take care of myself.
Walker watched me for a second longer, like he could see the panic behind my eyes, but he didn’t say anything. He just squeezed my fingers gently, then set the kit down and turned to the fridge.
“You want to eat in here or in the family room?” His voice was low, casual, but it made my insides flutter.
I shrugged. “Here is fine.”
He nodded like it was the answer he expected and started pulling ingredients out of the fridge. I sat at the island, twisting the sleeve of my hoodie around my fingers, and stared at him. I knew I should go put my clothes away but I wanted to stay here. He was so efficient, every movement neat and precise, like his whole life was built on routines that never changed.
“You okay?” He didn’t look up, but I could tell he was listening.
I tried to smile. “Just…not used to this much help,” I confessed, keeping my voice down. “It’s weird.”
He glanced at me, dark eyes steady. “You’ll get used to it.”
That was what I was afraid of. If I got used to it, what happened when it disappeared? But I didn’t say it. I just watched him put sandwich fixings together.
My blood sugar was stable, so I didn’t feel dizzy anymore. But my thoughts kept jumping. Every time he did something for me, I felt smaller and softer. It was terrifying and perfect all at once.
He set a plate in front of me, a turkey sandwich and hummus with raw veggies for dipping.
“Eat slow,” he said, and it wasn’t a request.
