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Walt
Therearealot of notable things about Tucker; his love and loyalty to his family, his cooking, his balance between being a boss and a therapist, and his ability to go from calm and compassionate to ruthless killer if someone fucks with any of the above. But, the most notable for me is his timing. He has this uncanny habit of appearing when I no longer feel I’m suffocating and am able to absorb anything he says.
When I first came outside, some of his men watched me for a bit because they’ve seen the look I had on my face before. Usually it meant it was time to fight, but I didn’t approach and they didn’t move from where Tucker told them to stand.
I incorporated some of his techniques and breathed like he taught me. The best time to try it is now because I can't always fight my way through my feelings. I know Whit and I sparred before I disappeared, but I don’t know which level of aggression we used.
Now, I’m breathing through it while reminding myself of all the progress I’ve made so far. I’m not a lost cause, and this isn’t hopeless. My name is Walt Cambridge. I’m from Glenn Royal, California. My parents are alive. I have a brother and a son. I mumble what I know while ignoring what I don’t know on repeat until I can breathe again.
The door clicks and I know his Tucker without turning around. “My name is Walt Cambridge, I’m from Glenn Royal, California. My parents are alive. I have a brother and a son.”
“Good,” he says from next to me. “And they care a lot about you. What does that tell you?”
“I must have been a good man.”
“Think about it. Besides, Rager, you haven’t bothered anyone since you’ve been awake. Amnesia can suppress your memories, but your default setting is that you are an amicable guy. Meeting your family confirmed that. More will come back now that you’re surrounded by what’s familiar.”
“Don’t force yourself,” we say in unison, because it’s something he has to tell me often.
I chuckle when he smiles. “Your brother is worried about you. He hasn’t stopped staring at the door since you left.”
I don’t want him to worry, but it’s comforting knowing that someone cares that much. We hear music and come in as Rowe is listing Everie’s accolades. Impressive. She steps back, crashing the back of her into my front. I withhold a grunt because it feels better than it should having her in my space. She feels solid for a skittish person. My mind drops into the gutter quickly, as if it’s used to thinking about her sexually.
I’ve had sex since I’ve been awake and no woman gives me as much attitude as Everie. I’m starting to think that I never knew what it is like for a woman to be somewhat combative with me, unless I include Tini’s Rager personality.
What she doesn’t realize is her behavior towards me provides a great distraction. A battle of wills. That is something I can do. For example, the stare down we’re currently locked in over the use of her nickname. I didn’t mean to call her Everie, but her need to correct me makes me want to use the name even more.
Keep challenging me, Cupcake.
As if hearing my thoughts, she drops her eyes and her cute lips poke out in the little pout she does after our encounters. I would tell her it’s cute, but it’s not information I’m willing to share right now.
Tucker’s announcement to leave has her turning her big puppy dog eyes to him. I know he sees the way she looks at him sometimes. It’s hard to miss. Maybe it’s one of the reasons I insist on calling her Everie. She doesn’t need an inside thing with him. I know he sees her as more of a friend than a patient now, but he’s not the one pining.
I know the prolonged hug she’s giving him is not all crush related. If he were inanimate, he’d be her blankie, but sometimes you have to let it go long enough to wash it. I don’t think she realizes it, but she lets out a small growl of defiance when I pull her off of him.
I grab her hand to keep her on track and pick up her bag. We follow Rowe to the other side of the house, but she’s abnormally quiet even for her. Eventually, Rowe opens a door that leads to another hallway that leads to a big open area that kind of mimics being its own house. There’s a kitchenette, a pool table in the middle of the game room. Sitting areas, and a media space with a wet bar.
On instinct, I go to the left and find a set of massive double doors.
“That’s your bedroom,” Rowe confirms.
He looks from me to Everie and I remember I’m still holding on to her. I know I’m just learning him, but it looks like he’s trying to figure out if anything is between me and the little one. I push open the doors to find the immense room on the other side. A king bed sits in the middle. I have a balcony, another sitting area, and an ensuite bathroom. I step further into the room, taking my guest with me. She steps out of my reach and does a slow turn. She thinks the room is nice, but she’s not impressed. No, she’s looking for a way out.
Rowe’s phone rings, and he smiles at the display. “I’ll leave you two to it,” he turns to leave as he answers. “Hey, little bird…” his voice fades, reminding us we’re alone in my room.
The only weird thing about it to me is that we’ve never been alone. She stops the slow spin once she realizes I’m looking at her.
“Something’s wrong with your eyes,” she huffs and moves until the couch is between us.
I examine the space, and my eyes fall on a door. If my feeling or instinct is correct… I push it open and it leads to another room. It’s smaller than mine but still spacious with a queen bed.
“Here you go. Now, you don’t have to worry about me throwing you in my bed.”
Her eyes are comically large as she stares at the couch’s cushion. “I wasn’t thinking about that…” she snatches up her bag and Coco follows. “Before now,” she grumbles to herself before she disappears.
I walk to the opening to see if she’s settling in right. The room has its own bathroom and another door to lead to the hallway so she doesn’t have to go through mine to leave or enter her room. She notices that I’m looking around and walks to the door between our rooms and closes it without a word.
I chuckle to myself as my phone rings. “Hey, Tucker,” I answer low, to keep her from running in for him.
