Walker, page 1
WALKER
LEANN ASHERS
Walker
LeAnn Ashers
* * *
Copyright © 2022 by LeAnn Ashers
All rights reserved.
Walker is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are all products of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Except as permitted under the US Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form, by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system without the prior written permission of the author.
* * *
Cover Designer: Regina Wamba
Photographer: Wander Aguiar
Editor: Courtney Delollis
Editor: Virginia Tesi Carey
CONTENTS
1. Summer
2. Summer
3. Walker
4. Summer
5. Summer
6. Summer
7. Summer
8. Summer
9. Summer
10. Summer
11. Summer
12. Summer
13. Summer
14. Summer
15. Summer
16. Summer
17. Summer
18. Summer
Epilogue
CHAPTER 1
SUMMER
Sitting at my desk, I watch as another one of my clients breaks down in their car after a long and horrible session.
Being a psychologist is one of the hardest jobs; I’m wrecked daily with the stories I’m told but driven to help them.
I mostly deal with PTSD cases, so I usually hear the worst of the worst. I turn my head away from the window, my eyes misting over as I let myself feel.
I close my computer and gather my files before I head over to the prison.
It’s a dangerous job. My dads have fits about it but someone has to do it. If the prisoners have gotten the care they deserved from the beginning, a lot of this could have been avoided.
Locking the door behind me, I make my way over to my client’s car and knock on the window gently to not startle her.
She glances over at me, her eyes red. She opens the door for me, and I bend down so I can speak with her.
“Are you okay, Frances?”
She nods at first then immediately shakes her head no. “Do you need me to do anything for you? Call someone?”
She dries her eyes; she’s just an eighteen-year-old girl who has been handed a very traumatic hand. A boyfriend she snuck out to see didn’t come to pick her up and someone decided to take her off the streets when she was sixteen.
“My brother.” She scrolls through her phone until she reaches a contact and hands the phone off to me.
I take the phone and shut her door not wanting her to hear my conversation.
“Hey, sis,” he answers.
“This is Frances’s therapist. She’s really upset right now, and I was wondering if you can give her a ride home because I don’t think it’s safe for her to drive.”
I hear him let out a deep breath over the line. “I will be there in a few minutes. Can you stay with her until I get there?”
“Of course.”
He hangs up the phone and I open the door handing her phone back, but she doesn’t let go of my hand as she takes the phone. She’s holding onto my hand like it’s her lifeline.
She is staring out of the window toward my building. “I have never properly cried; I’ve been numb for so long and this is the first time I’ve let it all out.” I stand here and let her talk about everything that crosses her mind, sometimes words aren’t needed but you need someone just to listen.
A little while later a car pulls up next to us and her brother gets out of the car. She lets my hand go and practically sprints to him, hugging him so tightly.
I walk to my car knowing she is in safe hands now; he puts her in his car. I wave bye to both of them and drive the ten miles to the prison.
I mentally prepare myself to bring out my inner boss bitch to face these guys.
I pull up to the gate and scan my badge, my heart beating faster the second the gate opens.
Here we go.
I’m led to a room with a metal table and chairs bolted to the ground. I’m personally searched for weapons and my bag has been searched thoroughly.
I pull out the files for the guys I’m supposed to be seeing today to go over which medications I should start them on.
I have security guards stationed at every corner of the room; the men don’t have privacy for their sessions like in the real world.
The door is pushed open and a man wearing chains cuffed around his ankles and then shackled to his wrists is led in. They push him down onto the seat, he bares his teeth at them like an animal. He tries to shrug them off.
I hold my breath until they have him chained to the table. I pretend that I’m not fazed by his actions and open his file reading over everything.
He was seriously abused as a child which led to him developing multiple personalities and almost all of them are not good.
I can feel his deep, dark eyes piercing into my face as I read over everything.
“Mr. Randoff, how are you today?” I ask him.
He jumps forward like he is going to attack me, but the chains stop him a foot away from me, his face straining and becoming redder by the second.
“Well, I’m assuming that you are not good.” I go over the list of different questions to ask him about how he is feeling, his mental state. He is void of emotions.
I look to the guards, and I write a prescription for him to start him off and hopefully help him.
I hand it off to the security guard and then he’s practically dragged out of the room, his eyes not leaving mine once.
“You okay, Summer?” one of the security guards asks.
I let out a deep breath. “I’m fine, just ready to get all of these visits over with.”
He studies me for a moment before he moves closer behind me which makes me feel a little bit safer.
I have five more clients before I’m done for the day. At least these men were more lucid than the first guy.
I’m escorted out and try to ignore the screaming men who are yelling at me through the cells. They’re so loud I can hear them through the glass.
I hurry out of the walkway, ready to get out of here. I just hope those men I prescribed meds to can be helped a teeny tiny bit.
I try to think that maybe there is a bit of good in everyone but hearing the stories I hear every day and being here, I know without a doubt there is extreme evil in this world. I’m faced with the haunted faces of those who have suffered by their hands.
One thing I’m more than ready for is to curl up in my bed and sleep the day away.
* * *
Darren
* * *
I fist the blanket at my side, waiting and fucking pleading for the images to escape from my mind, to give me a moment of peace to escape the horror.
The screams of my mother pleading to save my life, begging for them to not hurt me, never leave me.
Being in the SEALs all these years, I was too fucking exhausted to even dream because the second my head touched the pillow I was out. But when I returned home from the SEALs, the memories came back with a vengeance. I sit up in bed pressing my fists into my eyes.
I need to get out of here, I need to fucking breathe.
I slide out of the bed and into the kitchen to grab a beer. It’s fucking cold out here in Michigan, but it’ll be a nice distraction from my mind.
Sitting back on the porch swing, pulling the blanket over my legs, I take a long pull of my beer.
When I was ten years old, my mother and I lived on a horrible side of town. My mother would sleep in the living room in fear of someone breaking into the house while we slept.
And they did.
One night, I woke up to my mother screaming for me to hide. I didn’t. All I could think about was getting to my mother to make sure that she was okay.
They held us captive for twenty hours, torturing us for the fun of it. They didn’t kill us, but the remembrance of what they did to my mother is what haunts me.
I was too young to help her, too young to do anything but sit back and watch whatever she could do to protect me.
I want to hunt those fuckers down; it’s on my fucking mind every single day to make them hurt the way they hurt my mother. They are getting out of jail in a month, maybe that’s what’s causing these dreams to come back with a vengeance.
The fire inside me seeks revenge for what they did to my mother. I sit here and wait for the sun to come up, wanting the day to start; nights are the worst for me.
I throw my beer bottle in the trash, grab my keys off the wall and drive down the road to my mother’s house.
She’s waiting for me on her porch. “Hi baby, come give your momma a hug.” I smile and lift her off the ground, hugging her.
“Put my woman down, son.” I look over my mom’s shoulder to my stepdad, Kerry.
She laughs and pats my shoulder so I put her down. “Mom, do you mind if I talk to Kerry alone for a minute?” She tightens her robe around her giving me a look that says she is on to me.
Kerry walks up to her and leads her in the house, and I turn my head away when he pats her on the ass. Gross. She shuts the door behind her.
“Kerry, I’m moving to Texas to live near Tristan. The guys who harmed mom are getting out of j
His face reddens at the mention of them. He looks inside the house toward mom who is gliding through the kitchen with a smile on her face. “I don’t want her to know about this.”
I lean against the railing on the porch. “I don’t want her to know either. Maybe it’s time we all fucking start over, leave this place. You’re both retired.”
He looks out into their yard and then back at mom who is plating our food. “I think it’s a good idea, I will talk her into it. She doesn’t get to be touched by this shit; I won’t let it.” He walks into the house at that.
I won’t let it either.
* * *
Summer
I pull the pillow over my head at the sound of someone rummaging around in my kitchen.
I crack one eyeball open and look at the clock on the nightstand next to me groaning at the sight of the seven am flashing back at me.
A head pops in my bedroom door. “Wake your ass up, baby girl, we are going fishing.” One of my dads in the kitchen is laughing, while the other looks like he is ready to drag me out of bed.
I groan and smack my hand on the bed beside me. “Fine,” I hiss, walking into my closet to get dressed.
I forgot that we go fishing together once every other week. I grab a hoodie, throwing it over my head and both of them are in my kitchen packing food.
Yes, both dads; I have two dads and a mom. “Well, if it isn’t the sleepyhead.” My dad, Everett, walks over giving me a big hug. I smile hugging him back then I walk to my other dad, Theo, giving him a hug.
“I hear the fish are biting like crazy today,” Everett tells me.
No matter how much I don’t want to get up and go fishing at the crack of dawn, I would never pass up the opportunity to spend time with them and mom.
I have been blessed with such amazing parents.
“That’s great, I’m not cleaning them though.” I point to the both of them and fill up a cup of coffee hoping to wake me up.
They both chuckle at me, Theo ruffles my hair. “Baby, you have never cleaned the fish in your life.”
I hide my smile in my cup of coffee, shrugging my shoulders. “We have your breakfast in the truck.” I shuffle behind them and slip on a pair of boots by the door.
I continue to stagger behind them, my eyes barely open, chugging my coffee. I slip in the back of the truck and lay my head on the window, going back to sleep until we reach the lake.
“We’ve been taking her fishing since she was a baby and to this day, she has been doing this same thing,” Dad says and I smile against the window; I do love my dads.
My mind wanders back to the memory of them and Mom yelling for me in the stands when I played soccer and I completely sucked at it.
I was bullied as a kid because I had two dads and a mom; the horrible thing was it wasn’t from the kids in my school. No, it was the parents and the teachers which immediately stopped the second I told my dads.
“I heard that you had a rough time at the prison on your last visit.” I can see my dad Theo staring at me through the rearview mirror.
I suck in my lips, staring out of the window. “I had a client that was extra hard to handle, but I was safe,” I reassure them.
My dad Everett turns around to look at me. “Next time let one of us come with you, baby girl. We won’t say a word and we will just stand at your back.”
I sigh. I don't want to admit that the guy scared me, I have to see him again next week.
“Fine,” I agree with him.
They grin at each other feeling pretty good with themselves that they won that battle.
“I’m picking up your car from work tomorrow and getting your oil changed.” They go on about stuff that I need to do, what they need to do for me. They totally forget that I’m a grown woman that can handle everything on her own.
The lake comes into view, the fog is beautiful stretching across the water. The ripples, the fresh scent. It’s breathtaking.
Oh yeah, it’s going to be a good day.
I open the door and throw my hair in a bun at the top of my head. I grab my fishing pole out of the back of the truck, checking the line to see if everything is in order.
“What are we fishing for today?” I ask.
“We are trolling for some small mouth and maybe throw out for some bluegill.”
“Let’s fish.”
I’m gloating on the way back to the truck, loving the glum looks on their faces because I totally skunked them.
I basically outfished them three to one.
They set the cooler with the fish in the back, grumbling to themselves.
“How come we had to practically drag you out of bed this morning and you still outfished us?”
“Pure talent Dad, pure talent.” I pat my fishing pole grinning ear to ear.
“Now I can’t wait for the next time we go fishing.”
The ride back to my house is silent besides asking what I want to eat through the drive-through, which causes me to giggle.
I walk to my front door waving at them as they back out of my driveway and they give me a half-hearted wave.
CHAPTER 2
SUMMER
HALLOWEEN NIGHT
I got a text from my friend Lynn asking me to go to a haunted trail with her tonight. I have absolutely no life, so I was more than willing to go plus I love all things spooky, even if it scares me to death.
I try to not think of Michaela, her little girl, since she is my client. She was recently almost kidnapped and that took a hard toll on her and her whole family.
I bend over spraying some volumizing spray in my hair, giving it some extra “oomph”.
I eye my outfit. I’m in ripped light wash jeans, a white t-shirt, and a red plaid jacket. I finished it off with a belt and my shirt messily tucked in.
I grab my phone stuffing it in my pocket when I hear them honking for me.
I step out and see Tristan’s truck in the driveway. I lock the door behind me and make my way to the truck when the back door opens.
I catch my breath at the sight of the man before me. He’s wearing a plaid shirt rolled up to his elbows, his tattoos shining in the light from the truck. He’s older, has patches of grey hair in his beard and throughout his hair. A smile slides over his lips and I try to stop my very own.
I finally gather my senses and walk the rest of the way to him. “Let me help you inside, darlin.” He gently takes my hand, helping me inside the truck.
The sight of the man sitting across the seat takes my breath away just as much as the man who helped me inside the truck. He’s younger, closer to my age, tan skin and muscular, tattooed arms that are barely being contained by the white t-shirt he is wearing, his jeans are stretched tight on his thighs where his hand is resting.
I slide to the middle and the other one gets in beside me, leaving me squashed right between two of the most alluring men I have ever seen.
Both of them are staring at me, almost like they’re staring into my soul. I can feel my face growing hotter by the second.
I look down to my lap trying to play it cool, but the appeal of them beside me is crazy.
“How was work today?” Lynn asks me, breaking the moment.
I look up at her, feeling sad thinking about the cases I had today. “It was hard. I had a few more trauma cases.” It still amazes me the things that people go through, especially the cases with small kids.
“I’m going to the veterans center next week. I’m going to see some soldiers who are experiencing severe PTSD.” Both of the guys are looking at me with awe and respect.
I’m proud of what I do.
Lynn looks at Tristan lovingly, holding his hand tighter. “Tristan and Darren just finished their service in the SEALs. They’re transitioning back to civilian life full-time.”
