Page 6 of Careless Hope
Sutton beamed with pride, then winked. “Oh, it is.”
3
Walker
The doorto the Whistle Stop Diner swung open with a creak as familiar to me as the sound of my own front door. I stepped inside, boots scuffing against the tile that had seen better days, and let my gaze wander across the sea of heads. The late morning rush was in full swing and finding an empty seat was like hunting for a needle in one of Red Down’s haystacks.
“Hey there, Walker!” Marge bellowed from behind the counter, her voice slicing through the clatter of dishes like a knife through butter. She tossed me a grin, her brown eyes crinkling at the corners. “Thought you’d forgotten ‘bout me. It’s been, what, four days since you been in here?”
“Don’t remind me. I’ve missed you, Marge, but I’ve missed your peanut butter pie more.”
She let out a barking laugh and lightly slapped my shoulder with the back of her hand. “You always were one for the sweets, Walker Anderson.”
I chuckled, tipping my hat back with a thumb. “My belly has a mind and schedule of its own.” I always found comfort in Marge’s no-nonsense manner; she reminded me of Mama, buthad an extra bit of bite to her. You didn’t ever want to get on Marge’s bad side. Not that I would know what that’s like, as I’d always made it a point to stay in her good graces since middle school.
Gray and I might have been troublemakers at times growing up, but I was the one with the charm who could smooth-talk my way out of things. Gray always hated that about me. We’d both get into some sort of shenanigans but he’d be the one blamed. I’d try to talk us both out of any trouble, but he always refused to let me stand up for him. Stubborn bastard thought he knew better, even then.
Marge spoke, interrupting my train of thought. “You want your usual?”
“Yes ma’am.”
“Grab a seat wherever you find one, honey. I’ll be with you in a jiff,” she said, bustling off to refill coffee cups and dish out plates piled high with pancakes and bacon.
As I scanned the room, I spotted an open booth near the window. It seemed like a miracle in this crowded space. I made my way over, weaving between tables where folks were digging into their breakfasts and chattering away about everything from weather forecasts to local gossip. The scent of fresh coffee hit me like a warm breeze, stirring something inside me that wasn’t just hunger.
It wasn’t until I was a breath away that I realized the seat wasn’t empty after all.
There, nestled in the corner of the booth against the wall, was a woman. A beam of sunlight through the window played in her auburn hair, casting a halo around her. She had her nose in a book, one finger keeping her place as she glanced up at the commotion around her. For a heartbeat or two, I couldn’t quiteplace her. But then it hit me like a gentle nudge from one of my horses—Caroline Cressley.
I remembered her well enough; the shy girl who always had her head buried in textbooks, her green eyes hidden behind a pair of glasses too big for her delicate face. We’d gone to school together, grown up together here in Whittier Falls, but I guess looking back, I never really knew her. Despite being a year older than her, we were in a bunch of the same classes since she’d often take classes a year ahead.
Once in biology class, we’d been paired up for a project and I thought she’d damn near kill me for how little I cared to help. I was too busy trying to get into Cheryl Gleeson’s cheerleading skirt to give a shit about bio. But Caroline was meek and showed her frustration in exasperated sighs and eye rolls, never saying a word to me. Just did all the work herself and ended up getting us an A on the project. I hadn’t deserved her, but it was the best grade I’d gotten that year.
Now here she was, sophistication etched into her features, the glasses traded for confidence—even if it did seem like she still clung to some of that old shyness. I watched as Caroline straightened the stack of napkins on the table, a small, almost imperceptible habit that reminded me of the girl who used to organize her pencils by color back in high school. Yeah, there was still that hint of the shy, studious Caroline I remembered, but it was clear she’d outgrown her cocoon in more ways than one. I stepped forward, studying her before she noticed me.
“Caroline?” The name felt strange on my tongue, familiar and foreign all at once.
She looked up, and our gazes locked—hers wide with surprise, mine likely mirroring the same. There was this flicker, a subtle spark of recognition that passed between us, lighting up the space where old memories lay dormant. Nostalgia crept in,uninvited but not unwelcome, bringing with it flashes of high school corridors and the echo of locker doors slamming shut.
“Walker Anderson?” Her voice held a note of disbelief, as if she’d stumbled upon a ghost rather than a man, flesh and bone.
“Guilty,” I said, tipping my hat back with a thumb, a gesture that seemed to bridge the years between now and then. “Heard somethin’ about you being back. Your daddy must be real proud, the way I hear it. Guess I didn’t expect to run into you here.” That was a stupid thing to say, but Caroline always struck me as too good for this place. Not just the Whistle Stop, but Whittier Falls in general.
A half-smile danced on her lips, the kind that spoke of a shared past and the invisible threads that tie people together, no matter how much time had passed.
“Small town,” she replied, her words wrapping around the moment like a soft blanket. “I suppose our paths were bound to cross again.”
“Mind if I join you?” I asked, already sliding into the booth across from Caroline without waiting for an answer. The casual confidence of the gesture was second nature, a card I’d played so often it was almost frayed at the edges.
“Actually, I do mind,” she said with a mock frown that crinkled the corners of her green eyes. “You cowboys think you can just saunter into any old place and take a seat?”
A flicker of surprise hit my chest. She was feistier than she used to be.
“Guilty as charged,” I replied, grinning. “But in my defense, I didn’t see a ‘Reserved for Dr. Cressley’ sign.”
“Good thing you didn’t,” she shot back, the corner of her mouth lifting just enough to let me know she was playing along. “I might’ve had to enforce it.”
“Enforce away, Doc.” I leaned back, resting my arms on thetop of the booth. “But only after you fill me in on what’s been going on with you since the days of high school glory.”
