CHAPTER 13
JONATHAN
Iknocked twice—firm, deliberate—but the only answer was the wind.
I waited.
Still nothing.
The cabin stood silent behind the door, warm light bleeding faintly through the curtains. I didn’t call her name, didn’t jiggle the handle. She was a guest, and I wasn’t about to cross a line I already regretted toeing.
So, I stood there, long enough to feel the full weight of what I’d said.
In the end, I knew June better than you. I winced just remembering it. It echoed back now like a punch thrown too hard and too late—one that left your knuckles bruised and raw.
A cup still sat on the porch railing, the lip stained faintly with berry.
The coffee was long cold by now. The longer I stood there, the louder the silence became.
Like the whole forest was holding its breath, waiting for me to say what I couldn’t, offering me a chance to throw it into the wind and let it be carried away, absolving me. But I still couldn’t get it out.
I turned from the porch and walked down the steps, boots crunching against the gravel. Dusk had rolled in faster than expected. The trees above were casting long shadows across the Hollow, and fireflies had begun weaving golden stitches in the air.
I’d been turning it over all day. The things I’d said. The way I’d said them.
And the look on her face when I had.
I thought of her at Cryer’s Point. Her laugh, soft and surprised, when the stars had appeared. The way her eyes had lit up when she’d given that name to the cliff like she was giving it a soul. That version of her…she’d let me see something real and soft, giving me a glimpse beneath her armor.
But then when I’d seen her again, just a day later, after saying what I’d said…that was a different thing entirely. She’d been stricken. Pale. Her eyes wide with disbelief and hurt, like I’d taken a part of her she hadn’t meant to offer and crushed it.
Now I remembered the way she’d shoved that wolf into my hand like it didn’t mean anything.
One moment she’d looked like someone I might’ve let in, the next like someone I’d pushed too far away to ever come back.
And I hated that I could still see both of them so clearly. I didn’t like thinking about it.
But guilt…guilt never left you alone. It was a patient thing. It waited in the marrow. It reminded you that you were capable of doing harm, especially when you thought you were justified.
I cut through the path toward the main lodge, heart pounding louder with each step. I wasn’t sure what I was hoping for…just maybe that she’d be there. That maybe I could say something right for once.
A lantern was burning in the reception cabin window. Unless she’d gone on one of her early-morning or late-night walks, May should’ve been inside.
The door creaked when I opened it. Inside, it smelled like wood polish and crown nettle. A kettle hissed softly on the stovetop. After digging into my pocket, I placed the wolf figurine back on the mantle where it had always belonged…its rightful home.
“Evenin’, Jon-boy,” came May’s voice before I could call out. She stepped from the hallway wearing her usual apron and holding a fresh towel in her hands. “Didn’t expect you in tonight.”
“Lookin’ for Blanche,” I said, voice lower than I intended. “She wasn’t at her cabin and her car’s gone. She go into town?”
May tilted her head, the corners of her mouth softening. “She’s gone, hon.”
Gone.
I stood there, waiting for the rest. Knowing I wouldn’t like it.
“Where?”
“Packed up this afternoon,” May said. “Said she had to leave. Somethin’ came up in Graymore.” She leaned against the counter and shot a narrowed eyed look in my direction. “Didn’t sound happy about it, if that’s what you’re askin’.”
Shifting my weight, I asked, “She say anything else?”
May shook her head slowly. “No.”
I exhaled, then looked away.
I thought about leaving it there, letting her go back to her city and her life. Maybe that was better. Cleaner.
Would she even want to talk to me after what I’d said? It wasn’t like we actually knew each other. Our only thing in common was…June. Someone who I had a tremendous amount of respect for…and now I’d gone and dragged her memory through the dirt too.
May suddenly gestured toward the corner of the room. “Sit, Jon-boy.”
Not the kitchen table, but the oversized leather chair near the fireplace.
The old thing creaked like a memory when I sank into it, the cushions worn in so many places.
It had belonged to my father. Foley’s chair.
He used to read there on winter mornings or fall asleep with a book still open on his chest.
I hadn’t sat in it in years.
The fire cracked softly in the hearth. Warm and familiar. It was the kind of quiet that let my thoughts come out of hiding.
May went back into the kitchen, disappearing from view. “I’m makin’ something to drink,” she called out. Her tone was amused when she said, “Witch’s brew. Good for setting bones straight when the spirit’s crooked.”
I didn’t answer. Just sat there, sinking deeper into the warmth. Letting it hold me as I listened to jars opening and liquid pouring. The scent of dried herbs drifted into the air, strong and bitter, earthy and spiced.
When she appeared again, she was carrying two mugs and said, “And for you, something…sweet.”
There was a familiar tin tucked under her arm. I took the mugs from her when she paused next to me, setting them down carefully. When she opened the tin, a sweet, deep aroma hit the room—cocoa, blackmint, and something fruity. Familiar in my memory. Summer sweet. Moonshade berries, maybe.
“Ya loved cocoa as a pup,” she said simply. “Wonder if it still might work.”
“I’m not a pup,” I answered.
“Don’t need to be for it to hold magic.”
I’d come back home for one reason—but made it two.
I’d needed to pick up the pieces left behind by my father. Juniper Hollow. The land. The cabins. The debt, physical and spiritual. And also step away from the life I’d built in Graymore. A clean slate.
I wasn’t running from who I was.
My time in Graymore had simply run its course.
Coming back to Juniper Woods, coming home…it was a chance to close the lid on something I’d left open for too long. Unfinished business. A part of me I’d never fully understood. That meant no more Graymore, not in any form, its lifestyle or its people.
And certainly no one new.
But Blanche wasn’t really new, was she?
She was more than that. She was familiar in a way I couldn’t explain. There had always been a faint trace of her in the wind, like the scent of something I knew but could never quite name.
She was June’s granddaughter. Her legacy.
I’d thought I just wanted to be left alone. Something I’d never really had—not in my youth, not in the city. I’d come here both to lose myself…and to find myself again. To shed the old fur, grow the new.
That took time. I’d made a plan. A good one. Organized. Methodical. Efficient. Clear. Just like how I’d always handled every case that had crossed my desk, never overlooking a single detail. I’d always planned for contingencies and executed my plans cleanly.
The plan didn’t include anything beyond me.
And it had been working so far. There was a lot to do, a lot to learn, but I was moving forward, wasn’t I? I didn’t need the interruption or the deviation. She had never been part of the plan.
And I resented her for it.
Blanchette Redfield.
How could someone be so predictable in who she was…and yet so unpredictable in what she was doing to me?
May set the mug back down in front of me, her full concoction realized. Steam curled upward, chocolatey and minty, with just a hint of sweetness.
I wrapped my hands around it, grounding myself in the warmth.
“It workin’ its magic yet?” May asked softly.
I didn’t reply.
“Ya know ya could use a good woman in your life,” she added, casual as anything.
I let out a quiet breath through my nose. “Well, that’s what I’ve got you for.”
May gave a short, dry huff. “I said a good woman. Not an old one…besides, I ain’t never been good. A good woman will help keep your beast at bay.”
We sat there a long time. Me nursing something I couldn’t name, her watching like she already knew what was coming next.
Eventually, she said, “Some truths can’t be buried, Jon.”
I stayed a moment longer. Long enough to watch the dusk fully fall, to hear the wind curl through the branches like a breath. Then I stood, thanking her quietly for the drink.
When I stepped outside, the night met me with open arms. And I knew what I had to do.
I was going to Graymore.