Page 89 of A Wolfe in the Woods

Taking a sip from my coffee, I peered over the chipped mug’s rim at Jonathan, sitting behind his ornate desk. Like in my own cabin, a landline phone was perched near the edge of the dark wood. If not for the sleek desktop computer on the other end and the glow from the screen illuminating Jonathan’s face, he would’ve appeared to belong in a different century entirely.

His full lips were pinched down into a frown, the tiny space between his brows furrowed as he sorted through his paperwork. Stacks were becoming higher, but the surface of his desk was neatening. Every now and again, he’d lift his phone to his ear after punching in a number, and I listened to him speak to whichever bureaucrat or desk worker that he had the misfortune of contacting.

After each call, he’d give a sharp sigh, pulled from his very soul, rub at his temples, and sneak a look over at me. Scrubbing at the scruff of his jaw, he would regard me with an apologetic look, something restless in the line of his shoulders.

“By the way,” I said casually, peering at him over the rim of my mug, “you growl in your sleep.”

His brow lifted. “I do?”

“Mm-hmm,” I replied, trying—and failing—to hide a smile. “Woke me up in the middle of the night. I thought something outside the cabin was about to eat me.”

A faint smirk tugged at his mouth. “If I’d woken up, I might’ve.”

He leaned back in his squeaky desk chair, studying the way I was curled up in the leather armchair across the room, my legs tucked beneath me, a thriller book I’d pulled from his shelf perched on the side of my knee, my fingers curled around a navy blue mug that readEverwick’s 32nd Annual Moonlight Run.

I was in another of his flannel shirts after our shower this morning, my legs bare. The front door was open to let in a gentle breeze. It was a dark, cloudy summer day, the air humid and fragrant. Any moment I expected to hear the crack of thunder rolling through the woods, like the roaring of waves crashing into a cliff. Any moment I expected to hear the down pouring of rain.

I tapped my fingernail against the mug. “You do the moonlight run?”

“No,” he answered, stretching his neck to the side. “But May is always grumbling that I should be more ‘community oriented.’ I donated last year. The organizers sent a gift basket.”

Fighting a smile, I teased, “How generous of you.”

Every year, Everwick hosted the event to raise money for their cause of the year. Once it had been the Blood Bank Aid Network, which connected low-income vampires with ethically sourced donors. Another year it had been the Singing in Harmony Choir, an interspecies music program that would travel to children’s hospitals.

Two years ago, I remembered my grandmother telling me it was a charity that transformed neglected graveyards into community gardens—a highly controversial choice apparently.Only after the community was assured that the gardens would haveraisedbeds was it voted on to pass.

“You ever do the run?” he asked, nodding at the mug.

“Oh, a lot,” I answered before I placed my coffee back down on the end table next to the chair. “It was fun—I liked it.”

“Your grandmother always passed out water and baked cookies for the finish line,” he remembered.

I smiled. She’d be baking up a storm all day leading up to sunset, her arms covered in flour, the house warm from the oven and smelling of vanilla. She sweetened the cookies with dates, never sugar. I had always helped roll out the dough.

And suddenly, I realized that thinking about her didn’t bring a solid punch to the gut as it usually did. Jonathan had weaved her into this moment so effortlessly, so simply, and I realized itshouldbe like that. I’d always been so afraid to remember her because of the aching grief.

Shamefully, I’d locked her memory away.

But Jonathan—meeting him, being back in Everwick, talking about her…it had helped turn the key in that rusty lock. It felt good. It felt like making peace.

I thought that maybe instead of avoiding the things she used to love, maybe I should embrace them.

Maybe I should volunteer for the next moonlight run,I thought to myself.No matter where I am. Maybe I should bake cookies and cheer on the runners like she used to.

That would make me…happy.

I smiled at Jonathan, shifting, the book nearly sliding off my knee. I’d only gotten a chapter in before I was more interested in studying the man across the room.

“I think she would’ve liked what you’ve done to Juniper Hollow,” I said finally. “Did she ever get to see it?”

His small smile slowly died, but his expression wasn’t sad, only pensive. “She had planned to. I’d invited her over plenty oftimes, but by then, she hadn’t felt up for it. I just wish I could’ve opened sooner before…”

I nodded in understanding. I didn’t know if I could ever tell Jonathan how much his friendship with my grandmother meant to me. Nothing I said would ever touch on the gratefulness I felt.

I felt a little lump in my throat, so I turned my head to look out the front door. From here, I could see the lake and the cabins across the way. The water looked like obsidian, dark from the stormy day, an eerie calm stretching over the land.

“It’s quiet today,” I asked, changing the subject from my grandmother.Baby steps,I told myself. Looking back at him, I asked, “Am I the only one here this weekend?”