Page 14 of Unbound

“Long enough.” He comes into the room, holding the mug out. “I’ve got breakfast downstairs. Come down when you’re ready.”

I take the coffee, surprised at the unexpected gesture. “Thank you.”

He jerks his head in a quick nod and is gone, leaving me staring at an empty doorway, trying to remember the last time a man brought me coffee.

I’ve dated here and there over the years, but never came across anyone worth keeping around. No one who even came close to treating me the way my dad treated my mom.

I was so young when he died, it’s kind of surprising how much I remember about it. It’s probably more a testament to how unforgettable he was than a reflection on my own memory, since I don’t remember much of the years after he was gone.

Is that how Walker is? Does he remember his mother like she was here yesterday? Can he still hear the sound of her laugh? Recall the smell of her skin? Or has time stolen that from him the way I’m terrified it will take my dad from me?

My morose ponderings are interrupted by something vitally important to my existence.

The smell of bacon.

Sliding from under the covers, I use my free hand—since I don’t want to risk setting a cup on the gorgeous wood nightstands—to mostly remake the bed, then follow my nose.

I’m not sure if the universe is rewarding me or punishing me for the sight that greets me when I reach the main floor. In the week I’ve known Walker, it’s become pretty plain that he’s a quiet guy. Someone who doesn’t say much, but when he does, everyone should probably listen because it’s real freaking relevant.

I always wondered if, while there’s not much outward activity, there was lots going on beneath the surface. Last night confirmed that suspicion, and this morning drives it home. As he moves around the kitchen, Walker’s face is pinched with focus, and I can’t imagine it’s the scrambled eggs requiring all that brainpower. Walker might not be a talker, but he’s sure as hell a thinker. Right now, there’s practically smoke coming out of his ears.

And it’s likely my fault.

Perhaps a distraction is in order. The more he thinks about everything, the more questions he’s going to have. The more questions he has, the more he’s going to expect me to answer. And I think it’s best I keep a few things close to my chest. For now. Until I have a better grasp on what’s going on.

“This smells really good.” I smile a little when Walker jumps at my voice.

His eyes shoot to where I stand, resting on me for a second before going back to the task in front of him. “I figured you’d be hungry.”

“You figured right.” I don’t know if I ate anything yesterday. My stomach was twisted up in knots all morning leading up to the lunch I’d planned. When I was going to tell the girls who I really am. Then there was shooting, and after that I had to pack up my hotel room so I could get the hell out of town and regroup.

Which might still be what happens. It’s possible after we have this little talk with Walker’s family this morning they’ll decide I need to get as far from them as possible. Take all my problems with me, and leave them to go about their happy, blissful little lives.

And their lives do seem blissful. Outside of the way my dad loved my mom, I’ve never seen another relationship that made me want to jump into that kind of commitment. But then I went to work for McKinley Security Systems and had to stare down the Bradshaw brothers worshiping their significant others twenty-four seven.

Loudly. During work hours.

That’s part of the reason I knew I had to tell them at least some of the truth. I know how rare what they’ll have is. I don’t want to be the reason any of them have to suffer the way my mother did when she lost my dad.

Walker plates up a pile of fluffy eggs, buttered toast, and crispy bacon, sliding the hefty portion in front of me. “Eat up. We need to go soon.”

My stomach growls at the proximity to food, but at the same time, I feel a little sick. “Do you want me to tell them everything I told you?”

I don’t think the Bradshaw family would run straight to the cops and tell them what I share, but I also don’t know that they wouldn’t. And since it seems like someone really doesn’t want me being nosy, I’d prefer to keep my continued nosiness quiet.

Walker rests both hands on the edge of the counter, leaning his weight against it as his head drops on a sigh. “I don’t fucking know what I want to do.” He raises his chin, eyes so focused I feel like he’s trying to look into my soul. “Is there a reason we shouldn’t tell them?”

“Outside of the fact that it could make whoever’s after me go after them?” I take a bite of toast, hoping it might sit the best in my troubled tummy.

“Is that really what you think would happen?” Walker’s eyes dip to my mouth, watching as I chew. “That the people who threatened you will come after anyone they think you might’ve talked to?”

“I don’t know that my thoughts are what we should go by, because I didn’t believe they would find me here so quickly.” I manage to get the mouthful of buttery bread all the way to my stomach. “I thought I could come here, find what I wanted, then move on without anyone ever knowing.”

“So you were never planning to stay and help run the warehouse?” Walker almost sounds offended. Like that’s just as awful to him as lying about my name. “Do you know how many people wanted that position?”

“No. And I don’t really care. They’re not trying to figure out why their dad died when they were seven.” My next bite is aggressive as I tear into the bread with my teeth. “And if they are, you have my permission to fire me and hire them.”

Walker’s brows lift as he carries his own plate around the island to take the seat next to me. “It’s interesting you assume you aren’t already fired.”