Page 25 of Haunt Me

The front door closes quietly behind me. Through the glass, I can still hear people talking in low voices, dishes clinking together in the kitchen, someone asking if there’s any coffee left. Every now and then, a laugh rises above the rest before settling back into the steady hum of people remembering Raven the way she would’ve wanted.

She always said funerals should sound like stories, not silence.

I grip the porch railing for a second, staring out across the yard.

"She’s in a better place."

The words won't leave me alone. All I remember is standing there looking at a woman who thought she'd offered me comfort while every part of me wanted to ask her how anywhere could be better than home.

If Raven’s in a better place, then why am I still here?

The porch steps creak beneath my boots as I start toward the driveway. The gravel stretches ahead of me, winding between the trees before disappearing onto the road. I've walked this drive a hundred times over the years, usually with Raven tucked under my arm or walking a few steps ahead of me because she'd spotted a wildflower she wanted to look at or a turtle trying to cross the road.

Today, it's just me.

The afternoon sun filters through the branches overhead, scattering patches of light across the gravel. Somewhere deeper in the woods, a bird calls. Everything looks exactly the way it always has.

That's the cruelest part.

The world hasn't changed at all.

Only mine has.

"Wolf." Knox's voice stops me halfway across the yard.

I close my eyes for a second before turning around.

He doesn't come at me like he's trying to block my path. He just walks over and stops beside me, his hands shoved into the pockets of his pants. For a long moment, neither of us says anything.

"I know I can't make you stay," he says quietly.

"No."

"But I need something from you."

I look at him.

"Answer the damn phone once in a while."

Something in my chest twists.

"If you don't want to talk, fine. Send me a text. Tell me you're alive. Tell me where you are. Hell..." His mouth pulls into the ghost of a smile that never quite reaches his eyes. "Tell me to mind my own business."

I want to tell him I will and mean it, but all I can manage is, "I'll try."

Reaching into my pocket, my fingers wrap around the key to the cabin. The metal is cool against my skin. I hold it out to him, but he doesn't take it.

"You'll need that," he says.

I shake my head.

"Not where I'm going."

His eyes move from my face to the key.

"What am I supposed to do with it?"

My gaze drifts past him, toward the trees. I can't see the cabin from here, but I know exactly where it is.