The Forever Girl (Wildstone, #6)(98)

“Good to see you too,” Walker said. “What do you have for me?”

“Depends on why you look like shit.”

“Not talking about it.”

Red studied him. “Is your head in the game?”

“It will be.”

“When?” Red asked.

“When you give me my next case.”

Red nodded slowly, then shook his head.

“What does that mean?”

“You’re on paperwork, backing up the other ongoing cases.”

Walker narrowed his eyes. “You’re making me a desk jockey?”

“Until you can tell me your head is totally in the game, yeah.”

Walker scrubbed a hand down his face. He wasn’t stupid enough to call his boss out, though. And besides, the truth was his head wasn’t on straight. Not even close. The weight of his sidearm after eleven days away—and how was it that it’d only been eleven days? it felt like years—was heavier than it used to be. And it somehow matched the heaviness in his heart.

Yeah, this time he’d messed up. He’d convinced himself that no matter how much he wanted Maze to lean into a relationship with him, she’d eventually run.

So he’d just beaten her to it.

Asshole move, and he knew it. And the things he’d said to her . . . He let out a shaky, shuddery breath, because he wasn’t proud of it. He’d said shit he didn’t mean and then he’d run, all to avoid her running. Yeah, he was some catch.

He tried to bury himself in work while he figured out what to do. By noon, he’d provided intel for some of his team’s cases. Important work, but his eyes were bleeding from boredom and the knowledge he needed to be somewhere else.

Like back in Wildstone.

He was in the break room fighting the piece-of-shit coffee maker, and was two heartbeats away from pulling his gun and shooting the damn thing, when someone came into the room.

Jeff was a special agent whom Walker had worked with on many cases. The guy took one look at Walker’s coffee situation and laughed. “The big badass Scott, taken down by a coffee maker.”

Actually, he was being taken down by a damn broken heart, which he’d done to himself, but hell if he’d admit that.

“So, how’s it being back?” Jeff asked. “Anything exciting going on?”

“From behind my desk? Not exactly.”

“Come on, man,” Jeff said. “Even behind the desk you’re lethal. You saved my ass earlier. Thanks for providing the missing intel. I’ve researched that file a thousand times and I never found it.” He clapped Walker on the shoulder. “It’s good to have you back where you belong.”

Walker couldn’t echo the sentiment. He was going through the motions, and he wasn’t invested, not even close. Turned out Red had nailed it—his head was most definitely not in the game.

And he knew it wouldn’t ever be.

Up until last week, his attitude had been simple. There was never a need to look back, at anything. All he had was forward.

But Maze had changed him for the better. He’d let it scare him into running, but he’d been wrong.

He knew that now.

He needed to go after Maze and right his wrongs. He also wanted to move back to Wildstone, buy the Whiskey River, and, if they were interested, hire Caitlin and Heather in whatever capacity they wanted, hopefully giving them a new future as well.

“I’m heading out on assignment later today,” Jeff said. “See you in a few weeks when I’m back.”

Walker nodded, but he knew he wouldn’t be here in a few weeks. By the end of the day, he’d given his notice to Red. He took the elevator to the lobby and headed across the floor, only to stop short at the sight in front of him.

Maze was sitting on one of the reception chairs, and his knees went weak with relief. She was sitting next to . . . Elvis?

When she saw him coming, she stood up. She didn’t have many tells, but her hands were clasped together and, though the smile on her face was real—if not exhausted—she was white-knuckling it.

Elvis stood too, and Walker realized it was Jace in a costume, making the ugliest Elvis he’d ever seen. Caitlin and Heather were also there, along with Sammie. The toddler caught sight of Walker and started bouncing up and down in Heather’s arms, clapping her hands in delight.

“What are you all doing here?” he finally managed.

Maze smiled a little nervously. “Waiting for you.”

For the first time in days, he felt a ball of heat swell inside his chest. Hope. Because no one had ever waited for him.

Heather hugged him tight. Sammie too, wrapping her little arms around his neck and brushing a very wet kiss to his cheek. He hugged them both back, then tugged lightly on Sammie’s ponytail, making her giggle. He shook his head, boggled. “What’s going on?”

Everyone looked at Maze. She was wearing dark jeans and a white button-down, which, if he wasn’t mistaken, was one he’d accidentally left in Wildstone. Her boots gave her an extra three inches, and so did her hair, since it was piled up on top of her head.

“They came as my support group,” she said.

She stepped close, and he had to force himself not to touch her, not to haul her into him and hold on far too tight, because he wasn’t sure if he could let her go again. “Maze—”