Chapter 13
“Nice place.”
It wasn’t the messiest his apartment had ever been, but it was pretty bad. Walker suddenly wished he’d picked up a little.
In his defense, he didn’t know that Jake Burdette was coming over. Not until Jake rang the bell and told him he had a door for him.
Walker tried to look at his apartment through Jake’s eyes. Big furniture—he liked to nap. And a big couch was good for a lot of things. A giant afghan Darlene had made for him. Shoes everywhere, which was a bad habit he had to break, especially since most of those shoes were now missing laces, thanks to Booger.
It wasn’t great, but it was home.
“Lots of good light in here.” Jake knocked on the walls, looked at the doorframes. “Solid. How long have you had this place?”
“Couple years.”
“Ever think about making it a single-family home?”
Walker thought about waking up with Lindsey wrapped around him after they moved to her bed for round two.
Which had nothing to do with construction projects.
He just liked thinking about her wrapped around him.
To Jake, he just shrugged, and continued to show him around.
It was weird standing in his kitchen, talking to Jake Burdette about normal guy stuff. Walker hadn’t seen Jake since freshman year of high school, when they both went out for the basketball team. Walker had a few inches on Jake, but Jake was faster. He remembered it clearly: Jake faking and swerving around the defense, Walker raising his arms and blocking the shot.
He remembered all of his time in Willow Springs.
Hell, that was why he came back. It was one of the best places he and Red had lived, where the kids were more curious than cruel to the big, gangly new kid. Where he actually lived with his dad, not that he saw him much. But by that time, Walker was getting old enough to be sick of Red’s informal relationship with the truth, so that worked out just fine. Walker cooked rice and beans, like Mrs. Garcia had taught him. He mostly did his homework, and went out for basketball.
And he made the team. He did, Jake didn’t. Walker had thought that was unfair, that he had only made it because of his “wingspan,” as the coach called it.
But it didn’t matter, because a few weeks later, he and Red were on the road. Walker always wondered if Jake got his spot on the team.
He could ask him. They were sitting around, talking like guys.
“Is this the destroyer?”
“Dammit, Booger!” Walker tried to keep hold of the dog’s collar as his giant paws made a lunge for Jake.
“It’s okay,” Jake said. Then, oof. “He’s gonna be big. Look at these feet.”
“And he’s got an appetite.”
“You’re a real tough guy, you know that?” And now Jake was on the floor, roughhousing with the dog.
Finally, Jake stood up and stretched a hand toward Walker.
“So. Welcome back.”
“Uh. Thanks.”
“Been a while, huh?”
Yup, thought Walker. It’s been a while since my dad faked some Civil War-era paintings and we had to skip town.
“Sorry I haven’t come by sooner. Grace thinks I should’ve shown up with a gift basket.”
“Grace?”
“Fiancée. Wife, soon, but she doesn’t want to plan a wedding so we both keep putting it off.”
“Why don’t you elope?”
“Her sister and my sister have threatened bodily harm if we do.”
“Hmm.” Walker couldn’t even imagine what life would’ve been like with siblings. Everyone he knew talked like sisters and brothers were the worst thing in the world, but in a way that made it clear to Walker they were actually the best. But to have another kid grow up like Walker? Would a sister have made watching late-night motel TV more fun than it was?
“So what have you been up to? Grace tells me you’re a big-time artist now.”
“Not big-time.”
“Well, you got you a palace here,” Jake said, and gave him a friendly punch on the shoulder. “And I got you a door. Just pretend there’s a bow on it, for Grace’s sake.”
“Yeah, okay. Dog proof?”
“Normally I’d say yes, but your dog seems to be a door-eating savant.”
“Not my dog.”
Walker saw Jake’s eyebrow raise as Booger ran insane circles around the two of them.
“Forget it. Let’s get this door.”
And now there’s another guy! He smells like a cat, which isn’t great, but he’s a lot of fun and he’s really impressed with how fast I can run around in circles. Hey, wait. Where are you going? Oh, whew, he’s back. What’s that big thing he’s holding? Where are they going with that?
Oh, no . . .
Jake grunted as he tried to shove the door into place. “I’ve installed easier doors.”
It wasn’t helping that every time Booger scratched on the bedroom door, Walker had a little panic that he was going to break free. He didn’t think Jake’s housewarming generosity would extend to a second replacement door. And he definitely wanted this door replaced. This was a two-family house. Lindsey needed her space; he needed his. Sometimes they could share space, but that would be optional, with the option to close the door.
“I gotta be honest with you,” Jake said. “Grace put me up to this.”
“Grace sent you to fix the door?” How did she even know?
“No, Lindsey sent me for the door. Grace sent me to find out the dirt on you. She’s dying of curiosity. It killed her when she came over the other night and couldn’t get into your studio.”
Walker hadn’t actually met Grace, but he’d seen her at the gallery on campus. He’d been attempting to unobtrusively look at the exhibit of Appalachian landscape photography from the 1930s. She was in there with a class, talking about post-modernism. He recognized her laugh.
He wanted to tell Jake that if she’d waited around long enough, Lindsey could have snuck her in. Not that he really minded that anymore. Especially not since he started sneaking into her apartment to kidnap her dog.
No, the idea of Lindsey in his studio didn’t bother him as much as it should have. He was probably still high from last night. And this morning. “Not you?” he asked Jake. “You’re not curious?”
“I don’t really care what you do, man. As long as it’s not illegal.” Jake looked at him sharply. “It’s not illegal, is it?”
“No, it’s not . . . it’s hard to explain.” Hard to explain that he was a pretty famous artist but he was protective to the point of paranoia about his work because he used to help his dad make a living by faking art. And the only person he’d let into the garage was Myron. And now Lindsey. And, recently and regularly, the dog.
“Just don’t blow up the neighborhood,” Jake said, slapping him on the back. He gave the door a push. “This oughta hold. Feed the dog real food, okay?”
“Hey.” Walker threw his hands up. “Not my dog.”