CHAPTER 12 #2
My eyes darted back to the wolf figurine, my lips parting.
A memory unlocked, stunning and surprising.
I walked toward the shelf, thinking it wasn’t possible. The closer I got, however, the more incredulous I became. I plucked it off the shelf, turning it over in my palm. Its eyes were rounded silver, unseeing. And yet a shiver went down my spine.
There was a familiar scratch running down the back of its leg, which had tarnished black with time.
She’d always had it displayed, a gift from her mother that she’d had since she was a young girl.
It had been on her bookshelf last I’d seen it.
But now I couldn’t remember if it had been there when I’d boxed up her house after the funeral.
“This was my grandmother’s,” I said quietly, feeling the familiar heaviness of the solid silver. I turned back to May. Her clear eyes were pinned to the left of me, prompting me to clarify, “This wolf figurine. The silver one, on the shelf. How do you have it? Why is it here?”
“Ah, that wolf?” May asked before making her way from behind the desk to stand next to me.
She reached out, and I handed her the figurine, watching as she ran her fingers over it, dipping into the intricate lines of its fur, the thick scruff around its strong neck.
“Your grandmother had a sense of humor. That’s why it’s here. ”
My lips parted in disbelief but eagerness. “You…knew her? But you never said anything.”
“Not as well as Jon did,” May replied. “We knew of one another, me and her. But Jon…Jon looked after her. Every week, that boy went drivin’ over to Everwick to help your grandmother. Even now, he still cuts back those roses, keeps the garden nice and tidy because that’s how she kept it.”
A sharp inhale sounded between us. My own. I felt my throat tighten, my heart beating fast as tears threatened to prick the backs of my eyes.
“He…he knew her.”
He’d never said a word to me. Even that day, when he’d found me crying at her cottage, driving me back to Juniper Hollow in quiet.
“Mm-hmm,” May murmured, handing me the wolf figurine. “I know it was your grandmother’s but…she gave it to Jon as a gift before she passed. He likes it in here. Said your grandmother would’ve liked to be where all the action was…not tucked away in his dark little cabin.”
“I—I…I have to thank him,” I said quietly. A rush of emotion tangled inside me. The grief was surprising, but I also felt immense gratitude, warm and bursting, though it was threaded through with guilt. Because it should’ve me taking care of her. Not a stranger.
And I would go to my grave with that guilt. Nothing would ever soften it. But I deserved to feel it. It was my own punishment.
“Do you know where he is right now?” I asked, suddenly impatient to see him.
“Workin’ up at cabin six, I think,” May said.
I was heading out the door before she could get another word out. I didn’t realize I still cradled the wolf figurine in my hands until I was halfway up the trail I’d taken my first day.
The quiet heat of the morning made sweat drip down my spine until I made it into the cool reprieve of the tangled woods. The steep incline reminded me of the hike last night, the muscles in my legs screaming in protest, but I was determined to find Jonathan, even if Meg would have my head.
My heart was racing—both in exertion and adrenaline—by the time cabin six came into view.
“Jonathan?” I called out, remembering our first meeting right here. In case he was leveraging a heavy beam again, I wanted to alert him that I was coming. “Jonathan?”
I heard the crunch of his footsteps from behind the cabin, his large form coming into view. His dark shirt was already clinging to him from the heat, sawdust smattered across the fabric. He frowned when he saw me, his dark brow furrowing.
“You’re not supposed to be up here,” he told me, his voice gruff. Annoyed? “I mentioned how dangerous it is.”
“I nearly fell off a cliff last night,” I reminded him. “I don’t think this is any more dangerous than that.”
He leveled me a long look, wiping his hands off on a spare rag he had tucked in the back of his jeans. “What do you want, Blanche?”
He was in a foul mood, it seemed. The lines around his mouth were tight and dark circles were lined under his eyes. He looked tired. On edge. It looked like he hadn’t slept a wink.
And now that I knew he was a Lycan, I should steer well clear of him if he was like this. Especially if what Meg had told me was true.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“Fine,” he bit out. “What do you want?”
I held up the wolf figurine. His crystalline blue eyes fastened on it. Utterly focused on it for a brief moment. His expression didn’t change. I was disappointed I couldn’t get a read on him.
“You came all the way up here…for that?” he asked, running a big palm over his scruffy jawline.
“You knew my grandmother?” I asked, lowering my hand, stepping toward him. His eyes flicked down my legs, to my booted feet when they snapped over a twig. “June. June Redfield.”
Jonathan met my eyes again. His lips pressed together. “So?”
“So? You knew her…really knew her. That’s what May told me. She said you helped her, watched out for her. You’re the one whose been keeping up her garden. Why didn’t you say anything to me?”
“Does it matter?” Jonathan asked, crossing his arms over his wide chest.
“Of course it matters,” I replied, frowning. I didn’t know why his answer made my throat close or the bloom of blurry tears that encroached over my vision. “You were important to her. She wouldn’t have given you this if you weren’t.”