In Between

She Loves How He Talks

"Y/N!" Walker's voice echoes in the stairwell, sharp and urgent. Her head is resting against the cold concrete wall, and the sound barely cuts through the frantic breaths she's trying to control. "Y/N—oh fuck—"

She clenches her fists, pressing them to her chest, as the interviewer's words from earlier keep looping in her mind. *"Do you feel like you've only gotten this far because of your parents? Being Ryan Reynolds' and Blake Lively's daughter?"* It felt like a casual question, but her mind twists it, feeding her deepest insecurities. *You didn't earn any of this. You're only here because of them.*

Walker's voice breaks through again. He's closer now. "Y/N, are you okay? Holy shit—" He kneels beside her, panic in his voice as he scans her face.

"I can't—" she gasps, her breath quickening. "I can't feel it."

His hand is on her shoulder now, his voice firm but soothing. "Feel what? What's happening?"

She shakes her head, unable to get the words out. Her chest feels tight, like a weight is pressing down on her, and her hand flails at her side, searching for her heartbeat—something to prove she's still here, still real.

Walker gently pulls her into his arms, her head resting against his chest. "You have to breathe, Y/N. Just breathe with me, okay?"

She clings to him, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as if he's the only solid thing anchoring her in this spiraling panic. He grabs her hand and places it over his chest, right where his heart beats steadily. "Focus on this. Just feel my heartbeat."

For a moment, she tries to sync her breathing with his. She focuses on the rhythmic thumping beneath her fingers, and slowly, her shallow gasps begin to ease.

"Y/N..." he whispers, his voice filled with relief. His arms tighten around her as the worst of her panic subsides, but her emotions are still raw. Tears well up and spill over, and she can't stop them.

"I hate this," she breathes, barely able to get the words out between sobs. "I hate feeling like this."

"You shouldn't," he replies quietly, brushing a few strands of hair away from her face. "You don't overreact. You feel deeply, and there's nothing wrong with that."

Y/N shakes her head. "I don't know how to handle it anymore, Walker. I feel like I'm losing it—especially with everything that's been happening."

Walker stays silent for a moment, his expression softening. "Is it because of Lacy?" he asks, his voice cautious.

Y/N stiffens slightly but doesn't deny it. "Ever since she came into the picture..." She bites her lip, her voice breaking. "I've been feeling so distant. From you, from everything."

"I've noticed," he admits, his voice quieter now. "You've pulled away, and I didn't know how to fix it. I didn't know how to ask."

"I didn't want to make things worse," she murmurs, her fingers tightening against his shirt. "I know she's important to you, and I don't want to get in the way."

Walker lets out a long breath, his expression conflicted. "Lacy's great, but..." He looks down at her. "You're important to me too. You've always been important, and I hate that things have been so hard for you."

The vulnerability in his voice hits her, and she feels the weight of everything crashing over her again. She pushes her forehead into his chest, trying to keep her emotions from spilling over. "It's just hard, Walker. I feel like I don't belong anywhere anymore."

He holds her closer, his heart pounding in her ear. "You belong here," he says softly. "With me."

Her tears slow, the overwhelming sensation of panic replaced with a quieter, lingering sadness. They stay there, wrapped up in the silence of the stairwell for a long moment, until Walker finally pulls back just enough to meet her eyes.

Tears glisten in his own. His voice cracks when he speaks. "Y/N, you scared me so bad."

She blinks, her heart tightening at the raw emotion in his eyes.

"I thought I almost lost you," he whispers, his voice trembling.

Y/N takes a shaky breath, nodding, though her throat still feels tight. She knows there's more to say, more feelings bubbling beneath the surface, but for now, all she can do is hold on.

After what feels like hours, Walker gently helps her to her feet. "Come on, let's get you home," he murmurs. He pulls his phone from his pocket and calls Ryan, telling him where they are and to meet them out front.

By the time Ryan arrives, Y/N is physically drained, her emotions worn thin from the panic and the long conversation. She climbs into the backseat of the car with Walker right beside her. As Ryan starts the car, Y/N rests her head on Walker's lap, curling up slightly. Walker's fingers gently stroke her hair, his touch soft and comforting.

She closes her eyes, her breathing slow and steady now, finally calming as the motion of the car lulls her into a much-needed sleep.

Ryan glances at them in the rearview mirror, his jaw tightening slightly as he takes in the sight of his daughter sleeping on Walker's lap. He doesn't say anything, but there's an unmistakable tension in the air. His protective instincts flare, though he stays silent, his hands gripping the steering wheel a little tighter.

Walker catches the look in the mirror but keeps his focus on Y/N, his fingers gently weaving through her hair. She needed this, needed him right now, and that was all that mattered.

The drive home is quiet, the weight of unspoken feelings lingering between the three of them.