Page 73 of Wild Embers
“What did the texts say?” Walker’s tone is deceptively even.
“If you give me my phone, I can show you,” I offer.
He’s gone and back in less than a minute with my phone in his hand. I type in the passcode and pull up the text thread, sliding my phone back to him. He takes his time reading them, possibly more than once. His body becomes more and more tense the longer we sit in silence.
“When were you going to tell me about these?” He fumes at a low volume.
I shift incessantly in my seat. “I’m showing you now.”
Walker holds my phone up, shaking it. “Whoever this is has threatened not just me, but Santiago and Levi as well. You didn’t think I should know?”
Guilt eats at me, causing my stomach to twist into knots. I have to live with my choices. I’ll never know if things could have turned out differently, so there’s no point in wasting time sorting through all the “what ifs.”
“Do you need your eyes checked? He told me not to,” I huff. “Besides, I know you know I’ve been following you all and my mom. If something had happened, I would’ve stopped it.”
“You’re one person attempting to surveil four. If I need to do that math for you, then public education failedyou,” he throws my sarcasm back in my face, but his statement carries more weight.
Tightening my jaw, I turn my head to the side. “I know what I’m doing.”
Walker holds up a finger for each of his rebuttals. “You have no law enforcement training, no weapons training, and no hand-to-hand combat training. Do you even know self-defense?”
My hands tighten into fists as I give Walker a piercing stare. “You don’t know that. I could be an MMA fighter for all you know.”
He raises his brows. “Are you?”
“No,” I answer quietly. My voice grows in pitch and ire as I add, “But again, he told me not to.”
“You still should have told me,” he asserts again.
My eyes widen. “And risk something happening to you? No.”
“I can handle it.” He seems so convinced of that statement as if there is no alternative.
My fists slam down on the table, my frustration exploding. “I don’t want you to have to handle it.”
“Why not?”
I stammer my response. “Because.”
“Why?” he asks again.
My pulse pounds in my ears, my heart feeling like it’s about to jump out of my chest.
“I hate seeing you hurt!” I shout at Walker as if my outburst is all his fault. The emotional temperature in the room is at an all-time high, and it’s not regulating any time soon. Tears clog my throat as I continue. “I can’t bear it. Please don’t make me.Seeing you in pain, it feels like I’ve been stabbed in the chest. I can’t breathe. I can’t think straight.” Wiping away the tears on my cheeks, I look him right in the eye. “So don’t ask that of me. I won’t do it.”
I don’t know how to decipher the look on Walker’s face. It’s similar to the face he made when we were in the back of the ambulance. It’s as if he might…
No. He wouldn’t. He doesn’t see me that way.
Walker gets to his feet, rounds the table, and pulls me from my chair by my hand. His hands land on my hips, causing my heart to leap in my chest for a whole different reason than before. His eyes flick to my lips, but I tell myself I must have imagined it.
“How do you think I would’ve felt if it wereyouwho was hurt?” His eyes search mine. “You think I’d survive that?” His grip tightens on my hips. “Because I wouldn’t.” His jaw flexes. “I don’t want to walk into a scene and find you there.” His voice turns rough. “Don’t ask that ofme, Baby Girl.”
My heart clenches, unsure what to do. I’ve never seen him so raw.
I’m still trying to figure him out when he breathes out, “Fuck it.”
Walker hauls my body to his and seals our lips together. My mind goes blank. It takes me a second to understand what's happening.
