Page 67 of The Ones We Fight For

“Eleven over,” Roscoe said pointedly.

“Damn,” Walker cringed. “Sorry.”

“I’m not giving you a ticket because I figure telling you that you have five kids who would prefer if you didn’t die on the road like their parents did is a worse punishment.”

“Jesus, harsh! I wasn’t paying attention. I’m a little ramped up at the moment, I guess, which I know is a dumb excuse.”

“Where are you going?” Roscoe looked over Walker’s hood as if he could magically tell the trajectory of his car by what was ahead.

“You’re gonna tell me I’m an idiot again…” Walker started awkwardly, receiving no confirmation from Roscoe that he wasn't an imbecile. “Tal’s car broke down again, and I’m going to the dealership to—”

“Assault someone?” Roscoe’s eyebrows rose.

“No! I just wanted to fix one of her problems.”

“So she’ll stop giving you the cold shoulder?”

“She shouldn’t be driving something that’s going to cause an accident. I know she doesn’t care to talk to me right now, or maybe she just doesn’t want to ever be friends again, but I can’t have her driving around that piece of shit.” Walker's hand tightened around the steering wheel, his knuckles going white. Roscoe looked at him for a moment, eyes narrowing like he was trying to decipher a long math equation, before letting out a long sigh.

“The irony of you wanting Talia to be safe in her car and then driving like a bat out of hell. Okay, I’m going to tell you something as your friend, and if you tell anyone, especially my wife, that I told you this, I will deny it.”

“I won’t tell."

“Talia’s not indifferent to you.”

Walker gave a sarcastic laugh. “Wow, how exciting.”

“Walker, focus.” Roscoe snapped his fingers next to Walker’s ear, and Walker returned most of his attention back to his friend, still eyeing the car lot in his peripherals. “This whole thing has her coming over to my house constantly to talk to Amala, even though they already spend all day together at work talking about it! I was kicked out of my own living room during a basketball game so they could use the TV to watch some sappy rom-com and talk about you while Amala painted her nails. Again. Talia’s going to have to speak to you eventually, and the sooner you two figure out your shit, the sooner I can get back to watching March Madness in peace and stop hearing your name come out of Amala’s mouth with some sexual joke attached to the end of it.”

The fluttering in Walker's chest was instantaneous, both due to mortification of whatever Amala had to say and because Talia was thinking of him. More than just thinking of him, apparently, she was constantly discussing him with her best friend. That had to mean something. Walker didn’t know if it was a good or bad thing, but Talia hating him felt better than her not thinking of him at all. Unless Roscoe was pulling his leg.

“Really? ‘Cause every time I see Tal, it’s like I’m invisible.”

“She’s a much better actor than you are. But, honestly, you both suck at pretending. Every time I catch you looking, I feel like I need to leave the room before you jump each other. Now,” Roscoe clapped his hands together decisively, “I’m going to follow you to the car dealership to make sure you don’t do anything stupid.” Briskly turning on his heel, Roscoe stomped back to his car before Walker could protest that he wanted to be a lone wolf for his car salesman altercation.

Roscoe rode Walker’s bumper on the way to the lot, lights on, just to be an asshole. Walker caught him grinning in his rearview mirror with a devious expression that said he was taking the affront to his basketball game-watching to heart. Not sure if he wanted to murder his friend or hug him for giving him hope, Walker opted for sporadically turning his blinker on and off at inappropriate times.

They pulled up to the dealership like their own damn parade, and Walker hopped out of the soccer wagon just in time for Roscoe to blast his siren once when he was right in front of the cruiser. Walker flinched and whirled around to glare at his friend, who seemed entirely too amused with himself as he got out of the car.

“Look, I can do this myself. I promise I won't bash his face in.” Walker folded his arms over his chest.

“Really? ‘Cause you seem kind of jumpy to me.” Roscoe smirked. “Plus, maybe I want to make sure that Talia’s car gets taken care of, too. The amount of car issues she’s been having is ridiculous.”

They fell into step side by side, marching toward the glass entrance to the main office without another word.

The receptionist took one look at Walker and Roscoe as they made their way over to her and sat up straighter in her chair, tossing her dark hair over one shoulder, her eyes sparkling with flirtation. She was youngish and pretty, but not Talia pretty—then again, no one could ever be that pretty. Between the woman’s smooth, tanned skin and her bright smile, most people would find her extremely attractive. Walker just found himself extremely uninterested. Talia had ruined all other women for him, and they weren’t even together. He wished he could have some fling to get over her, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He doubted he would even be able to get it up with anyone but her.

Should’ve become a eunuch when he had the chance. The receptionist, as it turned out, was way more interested in the man in uniform standing beside Walker. Roscoe definitely screamed stability and kindness, and it also helped that he was tall and handsome, a fact his wife bragged about relentlessly. Of the two of them, Walker wasn’t shocked that Roscoe was at the center of the receptionist’s attention, but she failed to notice the wedding band on his friend’s finger when she traced her eyes over him.

“How can I help you gentlemen?” she asked in a breathy voice.

“He’s married,” Walker said bluntly. He was friends with Amala, too, and not that Roscoe would ever cheat on his wife—he would be offended by the very implication—but Walker wasn’t about to allow the flirtation to go further than one sentence. “We’re looking for the asshole who sold Talia Cohen a faulty vehicle that’s going to get her or someone else killed. I’d like a copy of her contract, too.”

“Oh…” The woman blinked back at him, immediately getting flustered. “We run safety inspections on all vehicles, so I’m sure that—”

“Then tell me who ran the safety inspection. Her brakes went out and got her into an accident, her battery died, the spark plugs went bad, and now the car won’t start again. I’d like to know who exactly considers that safe?” Walker snapped, not wanting to deal with the whole song and dance.

“All right, let’s just take a chill pill, Walker,” Roscoe scolded. “But, ma'am, I have to say, this place could get into some serious legal trouble. We don’t want to have to do that. If you could just look up who was in charge of Talia Cohen’s safety inspection, we’ll get out of your hair.” Roscoe set a cautioning hand on Walker's shoulder, and Walker rolled his eyes.

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