Walker

Chapter 13

The next morning dawned gray and overcast, the soft light filtering through Lena's bedroom blinds. She was already awake, staring at the ceiling, replaying the tense confrontation with Walker from the night before. Every word, every sharp look, echoed in her head, and she felt the anger simmering beneath her skin. She didn't understand why he had to be so difficult, so cold.

Still seething, Lena got out of bed and threw on a pair of shorts and a loose T-shirt, deciding to head downstairs to make coffee and clear her mind. As she stepped into the living room, she saw Walker lying on the couch. His eyes were closed, and his brow was creased with discomfort. She almost ignored him—until she noticed the faint sheen of sweat covering his forehead.

*"Walker,"* she called, her voice flat, but there was no response. His face was pale, and he shifted restlessly as if he was trying to get comfortable. Her irritation flared again, but there was a flicker of concern beneath it that she couldn't quite shake.

*"Hey, are you okay?"* she asked, louder this time.

His eyes snapped open, and he sat up too quickly, rubbing his face with a shaking hand. *"I'm fine,"* he said, his voice hoarse and cracked. He looked almost defensive, avoiding her gaze.

*"You don't look fine,"* Lena said, raising an eyebrow. She didn't bother hiding the skepticism in her tone. He was sweating, his skin ashen, and when he moved, it was with a stiffness that made her frown.

*"I said I'm fine,"* he repeated stubbornly, shifting as if he might stand up, but he froze mid-motion and coughed—a rough, wet sound that left him breathless and leaning back against the cushions. Lena's eyes narrowed, her annoyance momentarily overshadowed by concern.

*"You're sick,"* she said, her tone accusatory, like she was trying to catch him in a lie.

Walker looked irritated, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. *"I'm not—"* he began, but another cough wracked his frame, and he turned away, pressing a fist to his mouth. When it finally subsided, he looked even worse, and Lena didn't wait for him to deny it again.

*"Yeah, you're not sick,"* she muttered sarcastically, rolling her eyes as she went to the kitchen. Walker watched her go, confused, his brow furrowing like he didn't understand why she was bothering.

" Thats impossible. Ive never felt ill ever.."
He said confused, almost sadly. As if he was coming to a realization, but didnt say anything after.

A few moments later, she returned with a thermometer in hand, shaking it to make sure it was ready. *"Open your mouth,"* she ordered.

Walker just stared at her, his expression blank. *"What?"* he asked, clearly puzzled.

Lena huffed in exasperation, shoving the thermometer toward him. *"Open your mouth, genius. I'm taking your temperature."*

*"My... what?"* Walker echoed, looking at the slender stick in her hand like it was some strange, foreign object.

She rolled her eyes again, this time with a mix of frustration and pity. *"Your temperature. It's a thermometer,"* she explained slowly, like she was talking to a child. He still looked confused, so she added, *"Just put it under your tongue and close your mouth, okay?"*

"What.. I? How does that work?"
He said

He hesitated, clearly uncertain, but did as she said. Lena couldn't help the small smile that tugged at her lips as he sat there, the thermometer sticking awkwardly out of his mouth, his brows furrowed in concentration.

*"Am I... doing it right?"* he mumbled, his words muffled around the thermometer. It was almost comical, the way he looked—puzzled, slightly panicked, but obedient, and for a second, she forgot she was mad at him.