Page 56 of Careless Hope
“Her well-being is my concern. Not yours.” The words were a hiss now, filled with venomous ownership.
“Understood,” I managed to reply, though my voice sounded distant to my own ears. He held my gaze for a moment longer, his eyes dark pits in the growing shadows, before turning on his heel and stalking away.
I waited, listening to the angry thuds of his boots on the pavement until they faded into silence, before I sagged against the door, letting out a breath of relief.
I pulled my jacket tighter around me, the weight of responsibility heavier than ever, as I walked towards my car under the watchful eye of a crescent moon.
People back in Chicago weren’t always friendly. Sometimes they were erratic or angry, raising their voices. A few times in the ER, patients had tried to get physical in the throes of a mental health episode. I wasn’t new to dealing with outbursts. But this was something different.
For one, I was alone here, not surrounded by nurses and orderlies and security guards. For another, no one had ever had the look in their eyes that I’d just seen in Jim’s. It felt personal. And almost evil.
Something had to be done about Lily, and I knew that no matter how daunting, I couldn’t turn my back on her. Not now, not when she might need me the most.
Later that night, I sat curled up on my living room couch, wrapped in a quilt my mother had made years ago. The pattern—a patchwork of greens and blues—offered no comfort tonight. My phone lay silent beside me, its persistent vibrations earlier in the evening now just a memory. I couldn’t face anyone—not yet.
A soft knock broke the quiet, startling me from my thoughts. I glanced at the clock, surprised to see how much time had passed. Another knock, firmer this time. I sighed, rising to answer it.
Walker stood on the other side, backlit by the porch light, concern etching his rugged features. He took in my disheveled appearance, the worry lines around his eyes deepening.
“Hey, Caroline. You forget about our meet-up at the diner?” he asked softly, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation.
“Did I?” I murmured, feeling adrift. “I . . . It slipped my mind.”
“Something’s wrong,” he stated, not a question but a fact. His gaze searched mine, looking for answers I wasn’t sure I had.
“I had a rough day,” I admitted, unable to meet his piercing blue eyes. The weight of responsibility felt like a yoke around my neck, pulling me down into a well of helplessness.
“Talk to me,” Walker said, his voice gentle, his presence a steady force in the midst of my turmoil.
“I don’t know if I can,” I whispered, but even as I spoke, the words began to spill out, the floodgates opened by his simple offer of a listening ear. “Just had a bad experience at the office. It shook me a bit.”
I sank into the well-worn couch, pulling a throw pillow into my lap, something to cling to. Walker stood there for a moment, just looking at me with those eyes that seemed to see straight through the walls I’d carefully built up over the years.
“Caroline,” he began, his voice low and filled with a kind ofquiet intensity that had my attention despite myself. “You can tell me anything, you know that, right?”
Nodding, I drew in a shaky breath, the dam inside me cracking under the weight of his sincerity. “Today, a patient came in. She had injuries, Walker. The kind you don’t get from being clumsy or having a simple accident. It wasn’t the first time.”
He moved closer, sitting on the coffee table in front of me, his hands finding mine, warm and reassuring. “What happened?”
“Her husband . . . he cornered me outside the clinic. He—he was so angry,” I choked out, the memory of Jim’s fury still vivid in my mind. “He told me to stay away from her, but the look in his eyes . . . It was like he was warning me that I could be next.”
Walker’s grip on my hands tightened, his jaw clenching as if he were fighting back his own storm of emotions. “He threatened you?”
“Yeah, kind of,” I said, staring down at our intertwined fingers, feeling the strength in his calloused hands. “And practically punched a hole in the office door.”
“He got physical?” Walker’s voice was deadly calm, but I knew he wouldn’t stay that way unless I ensured him I was okay.
“Just to the door.” I squeezed his hands.
“Who?” he growled.
“I can’t tell you, that would be revealing a diagnosis of a patient.”
“Surely this is extenuating circumstances. How can I protect my girlfriend if I don’t know who’s threatening her?”
I ignored the butterflies that took flight in my belly at his words. It wasn’t real. I couldn’t let myself think it was real.
“I don’t know. I’m not going to the police or anything.”
