Page 7 of The Ones We Fight For

“As in two women?” Talia clarified.

“No, two hamsters,” Motorcycle Asshole scoffed. “Yes, two girls. The other one is sixteen. Does that make a difference?”

“Probably not as far as the size goes, but I’d get at least another box of tampons if not also another bag of pads,” Talia offered.

“And how long will those last?” He moved back beside her, pulling his phone from his pocket and snapping pictures of the two products she had suggested.

“About two months,” she said. “But it really depends on flow. You aren’t just going to buy more now?”

“If you recall, I’m on a motorcycle. This is the only thing I can fit in my bag. That, and I don’t shop here if I can get away with it. I assume you’re related to Jeff Cohen?”

“Talia Cohen,” she nodded, feeling her heart drop into her stomach. Before moving to Archwood, Talia hadn’t thought much about her dad’s reputation or the circumstances of his death. She barely knew her father past early childhood, so she didn’t associate herself with him. The problem she had failed to take into account was that other people surely would associate her with him. “I’m technically his daughter. And you are?”

“Walker,” he replied coldly.

“As in Texas Ranger?”

“As in Hartrick.”

Hartrick. Shit.

If her heart could fully stop, it would have. She knew that name.

“Oh.” Talia swallowed, her mouth going dry. “So, you’re related to—”

“Cole Hartrick was my brother,” Walker interrupted, a flash of anger returning to his eyes. “Was being the operative word, because as I’m sure you’re aware, your dad kindly took care of him and his wife.” He raised the products in his hands with a little more force than was necessary. “These are for their kids.”

When Talia first received word of her father’s passing, she wasn't surprised or sorry for her own loss. The shock came from the sheer amount of destruction he had caused on his way out. Jeff had died how she always assumed he would: drunk. She thought it would be liver failure or overconsumption, but instead, he’d thrown caution and the safety of others to the wind and drunk drove himself right into the headlines of the paper. Along with himself, he took a married couple who had been on their way back home to their five children. Cole and Paisley Hartrick.

“Oh my God,” Talia pressed her hand over her mouth. “I—I’m sorry. I didn’t realize—”

“I should have just gone to a different store, but this was the closest one.” Walker looked around in disgust.

Talia desperately wanted to disassociate herself from her father, but the fact that she had taken on his business made that possibility seem far-fetched. It also felt inappropriate to move the attention back onto her and her own issues. Walker obviously had enough to deal with. Instead, she just nodded as he turned to leave.

“Uh… you don’t have to buy those. They’re on me,” Talia called after him.

It was the wrong thing to say. Walker flipped around furiously to meet her eyes, visibly pissed.

“I don’t need or want your charity. I want absolutely nothing to do with you or your family.”

Each word cut like a knife, and all Talia could do was gape at him until he marched away without another word.

When she finally found the strength to move, Talia tortured herself by second-guessing the period products she’d recommended, and pulled a bottle of Pamprin off the shelf.

Just leave it alone. Let him leave.

But she couldn’t let it go. She remembered when she first got her period and how uncomfortable it was to ask for anything from her mom. She couldn’t imagine having to ask for anything from her dad, let alone an uncle after the loss of both parents. If Talia could relieve any discomfort for the poor girl, she would.

“Walker, wait!” she shouted, ripping off her heels to run barefoot after him.

“What do you want?” Walker jerked his body back around.

Talia held up the bottle, shaking it a little so the pills rattled.

“I said I don’t want your help.”

“I wasn’t offering to pay for it, just letting you know that a lot of girls need this for cramps.” She set the bottle in his hand. “They’re especially bad the first time.”

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