Page 65 of Knotting Autumn

“We need to wash the last of our scents off and hopefully that will keep them from being able to track us,” he said, steering the truck into a car wash and swiping his card to activate it.

The lights flashed, and the truck slowly inched in.

“Three werewolves in a carwash,” I hummed to myself, trying to lighten the mood.

Maybe I was crazy, but I could have sworn that Sawyer’s nutty, sweet smell was thicker in the air. His throat worked as he stared resolutely at the foam splattering across the window.

“How are you feeling?” Thorne asked Cole, placing his big palm on Cole’s forearm.

“Fine.” Cole’s answer was sharp and scratchy. It sounded anything but fine.

A beat of awkward silence filled the space, and I gathered my courage to speak.

“So, can we talk about things? Cause I know we just beat up a bunch of Hunter’s buddies, but things feel pretty tense right now, and I don’t love it.”

Thorne’s mouth twitched when he glanced back at me, and a soft feeling of gratitude and affection flowed between us.

“It’s nothing!” Sawyer snapped.

Cole’s eyes widened a fraction, and he turned away, staring forward, still as a statue.

“It’ll be okay. Let’s just get to the cabin, sweetheart,” Thorne murmured, steering the truck out of the tunnel.

The last of the water droplets flew off as he pulled back onto the highway. Sighing, I placed my hand on the seat beside me, hoping Sawyer would take it, but his hands stayed clenched on his thighs, his eyes staring into nothing.

We turned off the highway onto a mountain road, and suddenly, the route became winding, our speed slowing and the trees thickening around us.

“It’s about three miles ahead,” Sawyer said, breaking the heavy silence.

Thorne slowed as he neared the turn-off, and Sawyer dutifully pointed out the dirt road. It was easy to miss, and I hoped that would keep us safe.

It wasn’t well maintained, with rocks and weeds littering the path. Thorne had to slow the truck as the drive became rougher.

A small cabin sat at the end of the twisty road. Ancient pine trees towered over us. Shoving the door open, Sawyer tumbled out, staggering to his feet. He trudged to the cabin, fished a key from a hiding place, and unlocked it.

Cole slipped out of his seat and reluctantly followed, his arms wrapped around his middle. Jumping out, I paused at Thorne’s side. He watched Cole with narrowed eyes.

“What is going on?” I asked. “I know fighting those guys was hard on everyone, but I don’t know where they’re at—either of them.”

Thorne took my hand. “I’m not sure, but I have a theory.”

“What is it?” I demanded.

“Patience, Vixen.”

I scowled at him, but Thorne merely kissed my forehead before following Cole into the cabin. We climbed the wooden stairs and crossed the small porch to the door.

I’d never visited Sawyer’s cabin. He avoided talking about it, and I attributed that to bad memories from his family, but now I questioned that assumption.

It was one big room with a kitchenette across one wall. A small table sat with two chairs beside a futon. The center of the room held a king bed on a heavy wooden frame. Beside the bed, a door led to a rustic bathroom.

“There’s gas, but no electricity,” Sawyer said. “I need to reconnect everything and we can get a fire started.”

Cole sank onto the futon, his head in his hands and messy black hair tumbling over his face.

Sawyer brushed past us and exited the cabin. Frowning, I followed him.

“Hey, wait!” I said, hurrying to catch him.