Page 4 of The Ones We Fight For

Paisley used to make elaborate color-coded calendars with hand-drawn calligraphy, and Cole's phone calendar was always synced to his wife’s so they both knew where each one of their kids was at any given point in the day. Too bad Walker’s artistic abilities were lacking and there wasn’t another person to bounce ideas off of.

For the second time that day, Walker was broken out of his thoughts by a loud sound. This time, the screeching of brakes and tires. He looked up to find a car rolling through a red light and colliding with another, blocking the intersection. He was only a few yards away, his bike running at full speed. His heart rate picking up, Walker squeezed his brakes forcefully, praying he would stop in time.

It wasn’t going to be enough. He was going to crash.

Panicking, he ripped his handlebars to the side, hoping to squeeze into the sliver of space next to the collision. Holding his breath, he felt the side of one of the cars brush against his leg as his bike maneuvered away from the wreckage.

By some stroke of luck, Walker successfully passed the cars and came to a full stop, heaving air into his lungs. He pulled off his helmet to breathe better, clutching his chest.

That was too close. You can’t leave them. You can’t be on this stupid fucking bike anymore. It’s too dangerous, and if you die too, then what? They will be left alone.

Hopping off his bike and shoving the kickstand down with his foot, Walker made his way over to the scene of the crash in a fury. It didn’t look like anyone was injured, so the blind rage he was feeling took over any obligation to further check on the well-being of the parties involved. He marched straight over to the luxury blue Lexus that ran the light and ripped open the driver-side door. The culprit looked up at him as he glared down at her.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Walker snapped.

“Excuse me?” the woman shot back, lifting her expensive-looking sunglasses off her head.

“Don’t drive like an idiot. Red means stop, and green means go. You and your rich lady entitlement are going to get people killed. Are you drunk?” Walker set his hands on his hips, examining her. She didn’t look drunk in the least. Her hair was perfectly in place, despite ramming her car into someone else’s, and her outfit looked like it cost a fortune.

“How dare you!” Accident-Prone Lady jumped out of her car, and Walker took a step away from her, surprised by how aggressive she was. Even with the heels she was wearing, she had to strain to look into his eyes, but acted as though she was towering over him. “My brakes went out, asshole. I tried to stop. I didn’t purposely run the light, so fuck off.”

“Then maybe you should get your car checked out more often so you don’t end up with pedestrians splattered on your windshield,” Walker retorted.

“I didn’t even hit you, jackass! All I did was fuck up my own car. It looks like this guy's big truck is completely fine.” The giant, lifted diesel with thick tires and a winch installed on the bumper looked virtually untouched. “You didn’t even think to check on me before screaming your invalid complaints? You must be next in line for the citizen of the year award.”

“You look fine.” Walker surveyed her with a roll of his eyes.

More than fine.

Walker had made sure that everyone seemed lucid and unharmed before he confronted her, but the fact that she felt entitled enough to demand his assistance pissed him off. She was probably just fishing for compliments.

“And you are obviously fine enough to berate random strangers about things you know nothing about,” she snarled. Her features were the exact opposite of her mouth. Soft, brown wavy hair flicked over her shoulders in the light breeze, and her olive skin practically glowed in the morning sunlight. Everything about her was decidedly irritating.

“It’s an acceptable reaction to almost dying.” Walker frowned down at her.

She really wasn’t backing down despite his clear height and weight advantage over her. Her deep brown eyes ripped through him like a scalpel dissecting him from head to foot. He involuntarily swallowed before regaining his composure.

“You know what? I don’t have time for this.” Whipping around, he stalked off toward his bike. Just before reaching his ride, he looked over his shoulder to find her looking after him, and couldn’t help but to get one last stab in. “Hope you like the view!”

“Don’t flatter yourself!” she shouted back.

Amused, he lifted his leg to straddle his bike, slipped his helmet back over his head, and started the engine, revving it an unnecessary amount of times just to be annoying before he peeled out.

Chapter 2

Talia

Talia Cohen stared at her fender in frustration. Today was turning out to be a day from hell because of course it was. She had just bought the damned car two days before, and already the brakes had failed to do the bare minimum: stop. There was nothing quite like upheaving her entire life to move across the country just to have all her hopes and dreams of a fresh start shot to hell in a single moment. As far as signs go, this was a pretty big one. She should have stayed in New York. She should have sucked it up and continued to put her law degree to good use no matter how much she despised being a lawyer. Honestly, she should probably pack up her shit, sell what was left of the Lexus and the store, and run back to her old job with her tail between her legs, begging for them to take her back.

“Are you all right, ma’am?” the big trucker of a man interrupted Talia’s soliloquy of self-pity, walking over to her. Cringing, Talia lifted her hands in front of herself as if to tame a wild beast.

“I’m okay. I’m so sorry about this. I swear I was trying to stop, but the brakes gave out, and then I couldn’t—”

“No harm, no foul. This rig is customized to take a hit. You barely scratched the paint. It looks like yours is a little worse for wear, though,” he pointed out.

Talia expected a burly man of his size to be frightening, but his demeanor was more that of a giant teddy bear. It was good to know that there were nice people in town, unlike Motorcycle Asshole, who seemed to think the entire world revolved around him.

“Yeah, I think I’m going to need a tow. Let me get you my insurance information.” Talia moved back toward her car, and the man waved her off.

---