Page 8 of The Naughty List
“Everything. I want to know it all.”
I truly believe he does. So I tell him. I tell him about my sister and what brought us out here. I tell him stories about Carson, and how he’s still such a happy baby, despite the tumultuous last few weeks he’s had. I tell Walker about California and the random string of jobs I’ve had since graduating high school five years ago. Nothing felt like a good fit, but I think it wasn’t so much the job as the location. I was never going to be content until I moved out here. I don’t hesitate to tell him that fact as well.
“What made you want to become a doctor?” I ask once I’m done giving my life story. Walker furrows his brow slightly and frowns, then he leans back in his chair, sighing heavily.
“I don’t talk about it much,” Walker finally says. I nod my head and give him some space to gather his thoughts. “My dad died when I was seventeen. Hunting accident. His gun misfired. I was with him when it happened.”
“Oh my God, Walker…” I place one hand over his and the other over my heart. His face is stern, devoid of any emotion.
“I couldn’t help him. All I could do was call 911 and watch him bleed out.” I squeeze his hand, my heart breaking for him. “My mom…” Walker trails off and shakes his head. “She was lost without him. So lost, she joined him on the other side two months later, right after I graduated high school.”
“Your mom passed away too?” I whisper.
He nods. “There was no medical explanation. People say she died of a broken heart.”
“That makes sense,” I say without thinking.
“No, it doesn’t. That’s what spurred me on to become a doctor. I wanted answers. I also never wanted to feel as helpless as I did when my dad died.”
I let his words sink in. Walker Evans is complicated, that’s for sure. His worldview doesn’t allow for things like a love so deep you could die of a broken heart. Me? That’s exactly the kind of thing I believe in. Not that I want to die of a broken heart or anything, but I long for a connection like that, for someone’s soul to be woven into the fabric of my being.
“Did it help?”
Walker tilts his head to the side, studying me. “Did what help?”
“Becoming a doctor.”
"I…" he trails off, looking out the window. "I've never thought about it," he says quietly. "Once I made my decision, I dove headfirst into my studies. I got through my bachelor's degree in two years, went off to med school, and came back four years ago."
“Now that you’re thinking about it, what’s your gut telling you?”
“My gut?”
“Yeah, you know. The magical side of your stomach that makes decisions.”
Walker looks at me like I just sneezed glitter all over his clean, pressed white shirt.
Then he breaks out into a deep, glorious laugh. It rings out in the bakery, making the few other patrons inside look over at us. Go ahead and let them. Let them see how beautiful this man is when he gives himself over to joy and goodness.
“Can’t say I’ve ever made a decision with my gut. I’m also dubious of your knowledge about anatomy,” he teases.
“It’s not all about textbook knowledge, Dr. Evans,” I say with a smile.
“Yeah, I’m beginning to see that,” he whispers, the look in his eyes growing soft and thoughtful as he holds my gaze.
“Good. Mission accomplished,” I say with a satisfied smirk. “I should probably let you get back to work. But don’t think I’m letting you off the hook. I want you to get in tune with the magical side of your stomach.”
“Are you assigning me homework, pixie?”
I smile at his endearment for me. I have no idea where it came from, but I love it. “Yup. I figured I’d get on your level with the textbook vibe.”
“There you go talking about vibes again.”
“And there you go with your dirty mind!”
“Only around you, Indie. Only around you.” We share another heated look, but Walker clears his throat, breaking the moment. “Let me give you a ride home before I have to head back to the office.”
I readily agree, wanting to soak up every minute with the man I’m quickly becoming obsessed with.