Page 49 of A Wolfe in the Woods

I straightened my shoulders. He’d hurt me and I wanted to hurt him right back. “Especially when I know whoyouare, Jonathan Wolfe. So don’t you dare lecture me on guilt and morality when you sold yours to the highest bidder long ago.”

His fist squeezed around the wolf in his palm. So hard, I thought he might pulverize it into silver dust.

The silence was deafening. Not even the wild creatures in the wood dared to breathe. How had it gone so wrong? And so quickly?

“So sad that all you have is a faint memory. An idea of a woman. A myth.” He paused, and just when I thought he might stop there, might show mercy, he added, “In the end, I knew June better than you.”

I couldn’t swallow the lump in my throat. It felt like it was choking me. I turned before he could say another word.

Suddenly, I couldn’t wait to get out of these woods.

All I wanted was home. All I wanted was Graymore.

CHAPTER 13

JONATHAN

Iknocked twice—firm, deliberate—but the only answer was the wind.

I waited.

Still nothing.

The cabin stood silent behind the door, warm light bleeding faintly through the curtains. I didn’t call her name, didn’t jiggle the handle. She was a guest, and I wasn’t about to cross a line I already regretted toeing.

So, I stood there, long enough to feel the full weight of what I’d said.

In the end, I knew June better than you. I winced just remembering it. It echoed back now like a punch thrown too hard and too late—one that left your knuckles bruised and raw.

A cup still sat on the porch railing, the lip stained faintly with berry. The coffee was long cold by now. The longer I stood there, the louder the silence became. Like the whole forest was holding its breath, waiting for me to say what I couldn’t, offering me a chance to throw it into the wind and let it be carried away, absolving me. But I still couldn’t get it out.

I turned from the porch and walked down the steps, boots crunching against the gravel. Dusk had rolled in faster thanexpected. The trees above were casting long shadows across the Hollow, and fireflies had begun weaving golden stitches in the air.

I’d been turning it over all day. The things I’d said. The way I’d said them.

And the look on her face when I had.

I thought of her at Cryer’s Point. Her laugh, soft and surprised, when the stars had appeared. The way her eyes had lit up when she’d given that name to the cliff like she was giving it a soul. That version of her…she’d let me see something real and soft, giving me a glimpse beneath her armor.

But then when I’d seen her again, just a day later, after saying what I’d said…that was a different thing entirely. She’d been stricken. Pale. Her eyes wide with disbelief and hurt, like I’d taken a part of her she hadn’t meant to offer and crushed it.

Now I remembered the way she’d shoved that wolf into my hand like it didn’t mean anything.

One moment she’d looked like someone I might’ve let in, the next like someone I’d pushed too far away to ever come back.

And I hated that I could still see both of them so clearly. I didn’t like thinking about it.

But guilt…guilt never left you alone. It was a patient thing. It waited in the marrow. It reminded you that you were capable of doing harm, especially when you thought you were justified.

I cut through the path toward the main lodge, heart pounding louder with each step. I wasn’t sure what I was hoping for…just maybe that she’d be there. That maybe I could say something right for once.

A lantern was burning in the reception cabin window. Unless she’d gone on one of her early-morning or late-night walks, May should’ve been inside.

The door creaked when I opened it. Inside, it smelled like wood polish and crown nettle. A kettle hissed softly on thestovetop. After digging into my pocket, I placed the wolf figurine back on the mantle where it had always belonged…its rightful home.

“Evenin’, Jon-boy,” came May’s voice before I could call out. She stepped from the hallway wearing her usual apron and holding a fresh towel in her hands. “Didn’t expect you in tonight.”

“Lookin’ for Blanche,” I said, voice lower than I intended. “She wasn’t at her cabin and her car’s gone. She go into town?”