Gabi made a small noise of surprise. ‘What’s to think about?’ she asked, sounding genuinely interested. He considered for a moment before replying.
‘The existing Station Commander is a guy called Perkins. I’ve worked with him since I joined the brigade. And I’ve never seen him out of breath, or panicked, or flustered. Not at major car crashes on the motorway, or house fires where we’ve rescued sleeping babies, or even when we found an unexploded bomb on the old army site. He always takes everything in his stride, gives clear and concise orders and seems to have planned ahead for every eventuality.’
‘So?’ Gabi challenged
He slowed into a turn, expertly keeping his line on the road as he turned back into town.
‘What if I can’t do that?’ He pressed his lips together to prevent himself saying anything else. He could sense Gabi watching him and he could feel the colour rising in his cheeks. When she spoke, she was unusually serious.
‘They wouldn’t ask you if they didn’t think they could depend on you.’
He pulled up outside Amber’s house, suddenly sorry he hadn’t taken a longer route home. He ran round the car to open her door for her. She steadied her hand momentarily against his chest as she arranged her crutches.
‘You should do it, Walker,’ she said, looking up into his face, and then, over her shoulder as she swung up the path, she said, ‘Honestly, what’s stopping you?’
The words hung in the air between them as Walker watched her navigate the path and let herself in. What was stopping him? Good question. He climbed back into the car and reversed easily out of the drive, turning towards home, thinking. It was only as he pulled up outside that he acknowledged his fear to himself.
The truth was, everyone knew that when the time came, Perkins would always do exactly what he needed to do to save the day. But Walker couldn’t say the same. He gripped the steering wheel, tight, and closed his eyes, trying to block out images that he only normally saw in his nightmares. He shook his head to clear them, not letting them in. Not letting fear win. But the doubt remained. His stomach tumbled away inside. What if, when it all came down to him, he froze in front of everyone, and they saw him for who he really was?
Later, Walker stood at the open fridge in his kitchen, staring blankly at the contents inside until the fridge alarm beeped. ‘You all right, bud?’ Alex pulled the braces away from Walker’s back and let them snap. Walker yelped and bolted upright. Alex had used full force, as opposed to Gabi’s playful little ping earlier. Alex laughed.
‘Second person to do that today!’ Walker said, turning back to the shelves. ‘You in for dinner?’ he asked without looking.
‘Where else am I going to be?’ Alex said. He had a point. Unless it was Tuesday or Thursday when he went out for band practice, Alex was usually home in the evenings. Depending on Walker’s shifts, they sometimes met up with the Brothers from Another Mother for a couple of beers if Fox could get a babysitter or if Etienne could disentangle himself from Isabella. Both seemed quite hard to do lately. So, Walker and Alex had spent a lot of time together since Alex moved in. In fact, they’d become a bit of a double act around mealtimes.
‘Right,’ Walker said. ‘Let’s eat.’ He rummaged inside the refrigerator, pulling out a tray of chicken thighs and grabbing a bag of fresh pasta which he tossed over his shoulder without warning. Alex caught it deftly and set it on the table, spinning on the spot immediately to catch the next items, tomatoes– which came flying one, two, three over Walker’s shoulder– followed by a solitary onion. He placed them all next to the pasta, neat in a row, and got chopping. Walker turned on the music.
They moved around each other in the kitchen as though choreographed. Walker sidestepped when Alex passed him to get a saucepan. Alex ducked down to choose a saucepan from the bottom drawer as Walker swung open the cupboard door above his head to find the salt. The chicken was chopped and fried, Alex reaching over to sprinkle paprika in the pan as Walker stirred. The pasta was boiled and Walker threw in the salt. By the time the meal was ready to serve up, Walker had chopped feta cheese and Alex had opened them both a beer.
It might not have been restaurant standard– Etienne and Isabella would have made something much fancier– but it was good, healthy and protein rich, which both of them needed for their gym schedules.
‘Table or lap?’ Alex asked as they plated up the food.
Walker laughed. ‘Lap. I’m knackered.’
Alex grabbed two trays and passed one over. A minute later they were side by side on the sofa, Walker’s ginger rescue cat, Fatboy Jim, squished in between them, TV on and tucking in.
‘You’re like my wife,’ Walker said, over a mouthful.
‘Get out of it, mate,’ Alex said. ‘You’re like my wife.’
Walker coughed and swallowed his mouthful.
‘We need to get out more.’
‘True, that.’
They ate in silence for a moment or two, watching a car show on TV.
‘But it’s also nice just to have some company at home, you know?’ Walker said, thinking how his mood had improved once he’d got home from work. Having Alex there was good for him. It stopped him spiralling or his thoughts crowding into his head. It distracted him.
‘I know, mate. And it’s good not having to worry that every time I enter a room, I might catch my brother or his girlfriend in various stages of undress.’ Walker laughed. He’d seen for himself the lovestruck look on Etienne’s face that had been pretty much permanent since last autumn. The guy just couldn’t get enough of Isabella. And by the way Isabella wrapped herself around her man, the feeling was mutual. Walker couldn’t remember feeling that intensity with his ex-girlfriend Mia. It had felt more like a warmth, rather than a fire.
‘Have you ever lived with a girlfriend?’ Walker asked as he speared his last bit of chicken.
Alex shook his head, chewing.
‘Been close?’
