Chapter Eleven
Janelle
A s I watched Wolf leave, I touched my lips. I still don’t know how I went from being married to a man to having this attraction to a woman. I know nothing is wrong with it, and my parents instilled in us the belief that a person's character matters, not their choice of who to love.
But still, there's a part of me that hesitates and wonders if this is right. Not because of Wolf, but because of how fast everything is moving. I’m still protected by my soon-to-be ex-husband and trying to regain my life. Here I am, caught up in something that feels like it could consume me.
I shake my head, trying to clear my thoughts. I need to do some laundry and get the kids started on their homeschool studies.
As I'm sorting through the laundry, I can't shake the image of Wolf's smile and how she looked at me with such intensity. It's a feeling that is exciting yet scary because of the unknown. I take a deep breath and focus on the task at hand.
Abel comes bouncing into the room, his energy levels are always high. "Mom, when's lunch?" he asks, his eyes wide and hopeful.
I glance at the clock. "In about an hour, honey. Why don't you help Dillion with his math homework? I saw him struggling earlier."
Abel groans but nods, knowing better than to argue when chores or schoolwork are involved. "Okay," he says and trots off to find his brother.
I smile to myself; they're good kids. They've been through so much, but they keep pushing forward like their mom.
As soon as Abel disappears searching for Dillion, I hear Chloe enter the room. I see her clutching her favorite stuffed bunny in one hand and carrying her coloring bag, which has all her coloring books and crayons, in the other. She looks up at me with those big, innocent eyes that always fill my heart with love
With a soft yet determined voice, she asks, "Can I color with you, Mommy?"
"Of course, baby," I say, patting the space next to me on the couch. She plops down, her tiny legs swinging as she flips open her coloring book to a page half-filled with scribbles.
I fold a towel and glance over at her. "What are you drawing there?"
"It's a wolf," she says proudly, holding the page for me to see. My breath catches momentarily as I take in the crude but adorable depiction of a gray-furred creature with bright blue eyes.
A wolf. Of course.
"That's beautiful," I say, keeping my tone light despite my heart beating. "Why a wolf?"
Chloe grins, her little nose scrunching up. "Because Abel told me that wolves are strong, and they protect their pack," she explains, her voice filled with the confidence only a five-year-old can have. "Just like you, Mommy."
I blink rapidly, trying to fend off the sudden sting of tears. "Oh, baby girl," I whisper, reaching over to smooth her hair. "That's very sweet of you to say."
"Is Miss Wolf your pack?" she asks innocently, her crayon pausing mid-stroke.
I freeze for a moment, caught off guard by her perceptiveness. Leave it to a child to cut straight to the heart of things without realizing it. "Well," I start carefully, "Miss Wolf is... someone very special who's helping us right now."
Chloe nods sagely as if this explanation satisfies her for the moment. "Okay," she says, returning her focus to her drawing. "I like her. She looks at you like Daddy used to before he got mean."
Her words hit me like bricks, and I struggled to keep my face neutral. How do you explain the complexities of love, heartbreak, and healing to a five-year-old?
"I’m glad you like her, sweetheart," I manage to say, trembling slightly. "She’s very kind, isn’t she?"
Chloe nods emphatically, her bunny ears flopping as she does. "She makes me feel safe," she says matter-of-factly.
And there it is—the thing I can’t deny. Around Wolf, I do feel safe. Not just physically but emotionally too. It’s something I haven’t felt in years.
I stay quiet as Chloe continues coloring, her small hand steadying the page while she fills in the rest of the wolf's fur with streaks of gray and white. The innocence in her actions gives me a moment to reflect, to let the chaos in my mind settle. For all the noise in my head, this simple act of coloring with my daughter feels grounding.
"Mommy," Chloe says after a while, tilting her head as she studies her work critically. "Do you think Miss Wolf has a pack too?"
I chuckle softly, leaning back against the couch. "I think she does, sweetie. A very big one." I think of the Wild Jester's MC—loud, rough around the edges, but fiercely loyal to their own.
Chloe hums thoughtfully, pressing her crayon into the paper. "Do you think we could be part of her pack one day?" Her question is so innocent, so sincere that my heart clenches.
"I don't know," I admit gently, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "But I think she'd like that."
She beams up at me before returning her focus to the page, her little tongue poking out in concentration. "Good," she says simply. "Because I think she'd be a good wolf for us."
Later that evening, after dinner and the bedtime routine that always feels like running a marathon, I finally collapse onto the couch. The boys are tucked in, their video game arguments thankfully silenced for the night. Chloe had insisted on sleeping with her wolf drawing beside her pillow, and seeing it there made my chest ache in a way I couldn’t quite describe.
I run a hand through my hair and grab my phone from the coffee table. My thumb hovers over Wolf's name in my call log. We hadn’t spoken since she left earlier today, and I can’t help but wonder if she’s thinking about me as much as I’m thinking about her.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I hit dial.
She picks up on the second ring. "Hey," she says, her voice low and warm.
"Hey," I reply, my voice sounding softer than I expected. The weight of the day seems to slip away just hearing her.
"Everything okay?" she asks, concern lacing her tone. "The kids good?"
"Yeah, yeah, they're fine," I assure her quickly. "They're amazing. Chloe... drew a picture today. Of a wolf."
There's a pause on the other end, and I can almost hear the smile in her voice when she says, "A wolf, huh? Smart kid."
I laugh lightly, tucking my legs under me on the couch. "She said wolves are strong and protect their pack. She asked if you have a pack, too."
Her chuckle is low and genuine. "Well, I do. But it's not exactly the kind of pack you'd bring up at show-and-tell."
I smile, picking at a loose thread on my sweater. "She also asked if we could be part of your pack one day."
Wolf is quiet for a moment, and I think maybe I’ve overstepped. My stomach twists nervously. But then she speaks, her voice softer than I’ve ever heard.
"She did, huh?" There’s a pause, and I can almost picture her rubbing the back of her neck like she does when thinking. "What did you say?"
"I told her I didn’t know," I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. "But that maybe you’d like that."
There’s another beat of silence before she replies. "I would," she says simply. The simplicity of her words makes them hit even harder. No hesitation, no doubt—just truth.
"Janelle," she says, and how she says my name sends a shiver down my spine. "You know I don't have a lot of people I let in. Not really. But you and those kids…" She trails off, taking a deep breath before continuing. "You’re different.”
I swallow hard, my heart pounding in my chest. "I know," I say softly. "That’s why it scares me a little."
"Scares you?" she echoes, her voice gentle but firm. "Why?"
I sigh, leaning my head back against the couch. How do I explain the whirlwind of emotions of letting someone in after everything I've been through? After everything the kids have been through?
"Because," I start, searching for the right words, "letting someone in... it’s not just about me anymore. It’s about them, too. And I’ve already let them down once. I can’t—" My voice cracks, and I take a shaky breath. "I can’t do that to them again."
"You didn’t let anyone down," she says firmly, cutting through my self-doubt like a knife. "You got out because you had to. You protected them. You’re still protecting them. That’s not failure, Janelle. That’s strength."
Her words wash over me, strong and steady like a tide that refuses to back down. I don’t know why hearing it from her makes it feel more real, but it does. Maybe it’s how her voice carries a conviction I haven’t been able to muster myself.
I take another breath, forcing my fingers to stop fidgeting with the hem of my sweater. "It doesn’t feel like strength most days," I admit quietly.
"That’s because you’re too close to it," she replies without missing a beat. "You don’t see it the way I do."
I blink at that, surprised by the honesty in her voice. "How do you see it?" I ask before I can stop myself.
She hesitates for just a second as if weighing her words carefully. "I see someone who’s fought through hell and came out the other side still standing," she says, her voice steady and sure. "I see someone raising three incredible kids and doing it with more grace than most people could ever hope to. I see someone who hasn’t let the worst parts of life break her. That’s strength, Janelle. Whether you feel it or not."
Her words settle over me like a blanket, warm and comforting but heavy with meaning. I don’t respond right away because I can’t. I feel a lump forming in my throat, and my eyes start to sting from the tears that I'm trying to hold back. No one has ever spoken to me with such sincerity before.
"Why are you so good at this?" I manage to choke out, half-laughing through the emotion in my voice.
"At what?" she asks, her tone dipping into playful territory. "Being ridiculously charming? It’s a gift."
I laugh softly, wiping at my eyes even though no tears have fallen yet. "Well, it's working," I admit, and I can hear the smile in her voice before she even responds.
"Good to know," she says. "But seriously, Janelle... you don’t have to do it alone. You’ve got people who care about you. About the kids."
The weight of her words sinks in, and for the first time in a long while, I feel something shift inside me—like maybe letting someone help carry the load doesn’t make me weak. Maybe it just makes me human.
"Thanks, Wolf," I say after a moment, my voice softer now. "For saying that."
"Anytime." Her reply is simple, but there's an undertone of something more—something steady and reliable that makes my chest ache in a good way.
We fall into a comfortable silence for a few moments, which doesn’t feel awkward or forced. It’s strange how easy it is to talk to her, even when we’re not saying anything. Her breathing on the other end of the line feels like a lifeline I didn’t know I needed.
"So," she says eventually, her tone lighter now. "What’s the plan for tomorrow? More wolf drawings? Maybe some pack initiation rites?"
I snort, shaking my head even though she can’t see me. "Oh. I’ll have the kids build a fire pit in the backyard, and we’ll howl at the moon together."
"Perfect," she shoots back. "I’ll bring marshmallows."
"You’re ridiculous," I say, trying to sound exasperated but failing miserably because I’m smiling too hard.
"Ridiculous is my middle name, didn’t you know?" she quips. Then there’s a pause, and when she speaks again, her voice is quieter but still teasing. "But seriously, Janelle. If you need anything—anything at all—you call me, okay?"
A warmth in her voice makes my chest tighten in a way I can’t quite explain. "Okay," I promise, the word barely louder than a whisper.
"And I mean it," she adds, her voice firm. "Even if it’s two in the morning and you just need someone to remind you how badass you are, my phone’s always on."
My lips curl into a smile at that. "I’ll try not to overuse the privilege."
"Please overuse away," she says without hesitation. "I’d rather hear your voice than spend another night arguing with Jackson about whether or not pineapple belongs on pizza."
I let out a genuine laugh at that. "And which side of the debate are you on?"
"Oh, I’m firmly Team No Pineapple," she declares with mock seriousness. "Anyone who disagrees has no taste."
"Clearly," I agree, trying to stifle my laughter but failing miserably.
There’s a pause before she speaks again, her tone soft and laced with a touch of vulnerability. "You know, Janelle... I don’t think I’ve laughed like this in a long time."
Her confession catches me off guard, and I don’t know what to say for a moment. Then I realize I don’t need to say anything profound. "Me neither," I admit, my voice barely above a whisper.
"Guess that makes us even," she teases gently, but her words have an edge of sincerity. "You make me feel… lighter. Maybe all the heavy stuff doesn’t have to win every time."
I swallow hard, my throat tightening at her honesty. "Same here," I say softly, meaning every word. "I didn’t think anyone could make me feel like this again."
There’s a pause on the other end, and her voice is warm and steady when she speaks again. "Well, I’m glad it’s me."
My heart stutters in a way that feels both terrifying and exhilarating. I glance at the clock, realizing how late it’s gotten, but I can’t bring myself to end the call. Talking to her feels too easy, like slipping into a warm bath after a long day.
“So,” she says, breaking the silence with a hint of mischief. “What’s the verdict on my pack application? Am I officially in?”
I chuckle softly, shaking my head even though she can’t see me. “I don’t know, Wolf. You’re going to have to prove your loyalty first.”
“Oh, is that how it works?” she asks, feigning offense. “Do I need to slay a dragon or swear an oath under the blood moon?”
Before I can respond, there’s a sudden crash from upstairs, followed by the unmistakable sound of Chloe wailing and Abel shouting, “I didn’t do it!”
I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. "And now chaos reigns again," I say with a half-laugh.
Wolf chuckles softly. "Parenthood in action, huh?"
"Every minute of every day," I reply as Chloe’s cries grow louder and Dillon starts yelling something about a broken lamp.
"You better go handle that," she says, but her tone has no urgency—just an understanding that feels like second nature to her.
"Yeah," I groan, bracing myself for whatever disaster awaits upstairs. "But don’t think this conversation is over. I’ll be quizzing you on pack loyalty tests later."
"I’ll be ready," she promises, her voice warm and steady. "Good luck, Alpha Mom."
I laugh despite myself. "Thanks, Wolf. Talk soon?"
"As soon as you need me," she says softly, and the line goes dead.
I momentarily stare at the now-silent phone, her words lingering in my ears. "As soon as you need me." It’s ridiculous how those six words make my chest feel like it’s both expanding and tightening at the same time.