Page 71 of Unbound

Fucking Bradshaw boys. I should change all their pin numbers and passwords for this. They just saw each other, so I don’t understand why in the hell they’re here now, ruining my freaking day. Part of me wants to snoop and try to hear what they’re saying. But the rest of me really wants to get the hell out of this dress.

Ducking around the wall, I run up the stairs, my heavy breathing when I reach the landing a sign I should spend fewer hours sitting on my ass at a computer.

I’m not gonna, but I should.

I only pause a little at Walker’s open door to peek inside, rolling my eyes with a smile at how perfectly he makes his bed every day. I don’t necessarily think it’s even because he’s meticulous. More because he’s a creature of habit.

Even though I’m a creature of chaos and not habit, I still make sure to tidy up my room every morning, just in case he does prefer things neat. Also to show his mom the respect she deserves. It’s not lost on me that Walker allowing me so close to her belongings is probably a pretty big deal, and I don’t want him to think it was a mistake.

Especially since I’ve barely made a dent in the boxes in the basement.

Once I’m closed into my room, I peel off the dress I thought would show way less tit than it does, and hang it in the closet. After putting on my normal uniform of leggings and a sweatshirt, I sit down on the edge of the bed to pull on a pair of comfy socks. As I tug them into place, my eyes drift over the nightstand.

My first night here I was sure Walker wouldn’t have put anything interesting in here, and I still stand by that assumption. Possibly even more now that I’ve seen how little of his mother’s things he’s gone through.

But would he have checked to see if she left anything behind?

Probably not. It was likely difficult enough for him to manage putting these items up here. I’m willing to bet he got everything into place and closed the door on it, pushing all of it away before it became too much to face.

That’s why it was so clean. So untouched.

Once both socks are in place, I glance over my shoulder at the closed door, heart rate picking up. I don’t think Walker would be upset with me for snooping around in here. He gave me access to everything in the basement, and I’m sure this was down there at one point, so it’s got to be grandfathered into that allowance, right?

Reaching for the knob, I carefully work the top drawer open and peer inside. I expect it to be empty, so I’m more than a little surprised when it’s not. Unfortunately, I don’t think what’s in there will be helpful for my investigation. Not the one focused on my father anyway.

I reach in and carefully pull out the hardback tucked between a faded box of tissues and a mostly empty bottle of aspirin. The book is covered in a thin plastic protective film and has a barcode stuck to the back, right next to a white strip featuring a list of dates. Almost like it’s…

I flip it open, revealing the stamp from an elementary school library.

Swallowing hard, I go back to the strip of dates, my throat tightening when I see the last one in the line is for a week after Walker’s mom died.

“She was going to read it so we could talk about it together.” Walker’s voice is soft as he steps into the room just as silently as he opened the door. “We did that sometimes. Both read a book and then talk about what we liked. What we didn’t.”

I stare down at the middle grade novel, smoothing a hand over the cover. “Did you read it?”

Walker silently shakes his head.

I think about putting the book back in the drawer, but I can’t make myself do it. It feels too much like hiding the little boy Walker was. So I slide it onto the surface, placing it next to my cell phone charger and the alarm clock I’d bet belonged to his mother.

Walker stares at the book, the clench of his jaw tight as his eyes get a faraway look to them. As if he’s being dragged into the past.

I know the past is a place he hates to be. Has worked hard to avoid visiting any more than he absolutely has to. But that’s also where his mother is, and I can’t imagine how difficult those conflicting needs would be to navigate.

Standing from the bed, I cross to where Walker stands and wrap both arms around his waist, resting my head on his chest as I squeeze tight. Because if he has to go to the past—and like it or not, he does—I’m not going to leave him there alone.

Walker stiffens, his strong frame going rigid. For a second, I think I’ve messed up. Overstepped. Misread him and the situation.

But then his big body curls around mine, enveloping me with his warmth and his scent as he holds onto me like a lifeline. Like this time I’m the one protecting him.

We stay like that for I don’t know how long. Me making soothing circles on his back as he faces a memory that’s been lurking in the shadows for over twenty-five years. When Walker finally straightens, he only releases me halfway so he can bring one hand to rub at his eyes as he sucks in a deep breath.

I always thought finding out what happened to my dad was the most important thing to me. That it mattered more than anything. And for a while, that was true.

It’s not true anymore.

Because if I can only find one answer, I will choose Walker’s. He needs this. Deserves it. Should have gotten it a long fucking time ago.

Walker reaches up to brush back my hair, his expression somber. “I came to see if you wanted to get out of the house. Maybe go into town and visit some of the shops.”