Page 53 of The Patron Saint of Timber Hollow

While Saint fusses with the machine and assembles my tea, I tell him I want to run later, just on the edges of town.

"I'm down to clown, Tiny," Saint answers, sliding my drink over the silver counter.

I laugh, and Jay accepts his massive bright red mug, drinking deeply.

"Well, spank my ass andgiddy up.That shit fuckshard, dude," Jay rumbles, taking another glug.

I practically choke on my tea, sputtering while laughing and gasping for air.

And then we're all laughing while I'm wiping up the mess I just created.

Despite his earlier reassurances that he wouldn't, Jay disappears quickly with his coffee. It's alright, though, because I have Saint to keep me company. He quickly cleans the machine and then leads me into the game area of the Packhouse, our drinks in tow.

"What's your favorite game, Tiny?"

We've been out here for hours. No matter how many times I run around this sleepy little town, it's not enough. My heart beats wildly in my chest, and the edges of the forest call me in deeper. Ilongto go between the trees. Slip between the branches, chasing moonlight through the hollows and over the hills. To find the hidden pockets in the wild places of the wood.

Everything is blanketed with a new layer of fine snow, giving every footstep a muted quality. Night birds hoot and call out in the darkness, and everythingfeelsokay... Like I'm wasting time not going into the depths of the forest. Jay doesn't let me go, though. He gently steers me back to the edges of the forest if I stray too deep. The creekbed has a layer of crystalized ice across it, paper thin. Red and gold leaves are trapped beneath the delicate layers of ice, visible between the spider web-like fractures across the surface.

I lose count of how many times I run past the creek. Round and round the Hollow we go, owls hooting. I want to howl, to voice this panic coursing through me. I don't, though. Just spend the night silently careening around tree trucks, over logs and boulders.

At some point, the boys and I crack the layer of ice over the creek to lap at the cool water under, our breath leaving muzzles in plumes of fog. Jay is in front of me, his silver wolf occupying my vision. Saint's cinnamon fur brushes against my right side like he's bracketing me in.

I still feel the itch under my skin even after running several loops around the town. The urge to run, tochasesomething. But the forest is not safe, and it's setting my teeth on edge. A burningpit ofsomethingin my gut that makes it increasingly difficult tostay put.

I miss the open freedom of the life of a Lone wolf.I think, for one heartbreaking second.

But I wouldn't have Jay or Saint if I was alone now.

What's worse, Jay and Saint don't seem to notice my internal panic. They don't seem to be afflicted in the same way.

Dante was long gone by the time we ran around town. While I had been doom scrolling, waiting for the boys, I saw Ivy's post not long after his disappearance with a picture of her heeled boot stepping on a motorcycle helmet. Dante's, if the sticker on the side was anything to go by. There had been a very brief break in the snowfall earlier, and I'm sure that's precisely whoDante ran off to see.

Getting into the forest had felt like a monumental task earlier. I'd nearly ripped out my hair, waiting for the boys to be ready to leave the Packhouse.

Jay insisted on returning his car while Saint and I ran beside the road, racing him. I won, of course, and had nearly ripped Jay's clothes to shreds when he got out of the car with my claws, if only toget him to fucking move his ass.It does mean, though, that we don't have to go back to the Packhouse after the run. So, there is no one to see the fragile thread of control I have over myself.

Again, we visit the creekbed, lapping the cool water. Every step of the way, Jay and Saint chase the moonlight with me.

Eventually, when the moon's light is gone, I let the boys steer me back toward home, even if I still feel like a caged, wild beast.

Still wearing the skin of my wolf, I prowl back into the Cabin yards ahead of the boys, though Jay is a few steps closer than Saint. I have no desire to wear the skin of a human, to be so, so…emotional.

My wolf, however, recedes into the depths of my mind as soon as I step within the confines of the room Jay and I—and, lately, Saint— share. So I slam the door shut, collapsing into the bed and hauling the covers over my head, willing sleep to take me.

21

Abandon the bones

Tonight's shift at the bar is short, and as usual, I'm grateful for the spectacular schedule of Coyote Bills. Tonight's crowd had been rowdy, almost as if they felt the pull of the moon, too. Angel and I clear tabletops and collect bottles while Ivy wipes down the bar. Sam had taken off a few hours ago. The three of us easily clean Coyote Bills, ready for our next few days off. I'm on edge, but thankfully, no one has said anything to make me snap yet.

Angel chatters at me about her plans while we clock out, taking the cash drawers to the safe for the night. I grit my teeth, hervoice making me even more annoyed. She's going to a pottery class with a couple of girlfriends. The outing has been plannedfor weeks,so she gushes before grilling me about my plans.

I know it's not her fault, that it's just my shitty mood and Hunters that is making me feel this way, but I seriously wish I could just tell her to shutthe fuck up.

"I don't know. The boys and I will probably be hanging with Jay's family," I shrug. It's an easy answer that avoids telling her the intricacies of the Pack.

"Are the four of you a unit or something?" Angel giggles, but I see how her face crinkles and her eyes roll.