Page 39 of A Wolfe in the Woods

Jonathan exhaled. “Strange, right? I don’t know why, but…I can’t sell it. I’ve tried. And now it’s mine.”

“Are you happy you came back?”

“I think so,” he answered, the words surprisingly honest. Or maybe it was the most honest he could be with me in the moment. “You ever think about coming back?”

When the question was turned on me, I felt like a deer stuck in the headlights.

All the time,I thought. But I didn’t give it a voice. There was too much I’d lose. So much time wasted. I couldn’t admit defeat, even now. Not even when I was battered and bruised from all the years in Graymore.

“Have you ever thought about bringing guests up here? For hiking tours?” I asked, changing the subject less than smoothly. Jonathan made a sound in the back of his throat, but he let me escape, graciously. “I mean, this view…this is Everwick’s best-kept secret.” I turned to him. “Do you own this too?”

Jonathan casually replied, “Actually…yes. The property line stops right where you nearly fell off.”

I glanced back at the cliff’s edge. “So, you could rename it.”

He considered that for a second. “Yeah. But why would I? Cryer’s Point is always what it’s been.”

“Cryer’s Point…” I repeated softly. “It’s such a sad name.”

“What would you call it instead?” he asked, humoring me.

I pursed my lips, the wheels turning. “Hmm, something more fitting. It’s a ridge, right?” He nodded. “And with all these stars…”

I trailed off, searching for the right words. Then, just as I tilted my head back, I remembered the meteor shower. The bright streaks of light, hurtling across the sky that night fifteen years ago.

“I’ve got it!” I beamed, the name bloomed in my chest. “Starfall Ridge.”

Jonathan looked at me, considering. His head tilted slightly, then nodded. “It’s not bad,” he said.

“It’sperfect,” I decided, nudging my shoulder against his. Then I immediately backpedaled. “I mean…it’s your land. Obviously. You can call it whatever you want. I just…” I stumbled. “If it were mine…that’s what I’d call it.”

As soon as I stopped speaking, I felt self-conscious.

Why did I care so much? Why was I getting so invested in this place? It wasn’t mine. He could do whatever he pleased with it. Who was I to toss around names and suggestions so freely like I had any stake in his land and some random cliffside that had been here longer than both of us?

Jonathan broke the silence. “It’s a good name, actually.”

I glanced at him, unsure how to respond. “Yeah?”

He leaned back on his hands, thoughtful. “I’ve got such a long list of things to do that I haven’t even considered this ridge.”

“Well, you should. It adds to the charm. The garden, the greenhouse…the butterfly sanctuary. This would be another unique selling point.”

He looked at me, brow raised.

“What?” I asked, tucking a strand of hair behind my ears.

“Your mind,” he said. “It’s always working, isn’t it?”

I ducked my head, grinning sheepishly. “Habit. Corporate brain. It doesn’t shut off.”

“It’s not a judgment,” he said quietly. “Just an observation. I was like you once too. I used to live in my head. Tried to control every outcome. Tried to measure life like it was a case to win or lose. Took me a long time to stop doing that. And strangely, I think being out here helped a lot with that.”

I related more than he knew with the words. I felt them strike deep in my chest, felt them reverberate through my bones. “Can I tell you something? On this cliff of confessions?”

He inclined his head.

“I hate my job. And I’m tired of pretending that I’m okay all the time.”