Chapter 8 #2
"What?" I asked.
"You happy now."
It wasn't a question.
I laughed, because it was either that or cry. "Reckon I might be."
Leaning back in the chair, he draped one arm over its back like he'd been sitting at kitchen tables his whole damn life. Boone snored louder. June Bug twitched. The whole house seemed to exhale.
"You keep lookin' at me like that," I warned, "and I'll forget you were ever supposed to be the big scary monster in these woods."
He cocked his head, thoughtful. "Forget good?"
"Depends on what you're forgettin'."
As if that made perfect sense, he nodded. "Then I stay little bit monster. Easier to remember."
That earned another laugh, and I didn't bother hiding it.
The air had grown heavy again by afternoon, sunlight thick enough to taste.
Every blade of grass still held a damp shine from the torrential rain.
I’d spent most of the day patching what the storm had bullied—tightening loose hinges on the screen door, sweeping debris, pretending I wasn’t watching the man who shadowed me from one task to the next.
Vek worked without asking what needed doing. He hauled branches that looked half his size, reset a fencepost that had given up the ghost, and ignored every warning I threw his way about resting. His wound from where I’d shot him was healing, but the last thing I wanted was for him to reopen it.
“Alright, hero,” I called, tossing the hammer onto the porch. “You’re done.”
He straightened, the mud on his fur telling me he would need another shower. Although after the mess he’d made that morning, I was thinking about just hosing him off in the yard. “Fence still broken.”
“Fence can wait,” I said, pointing toward the porch. “You sit before you start leaking blood again.”
That earned the faintest flicker of amusement, but he obeyed, lowering himself onto the step with care.
The wood creaked but held. His long legs stretched out before him, big bare feet leaving prints in the mud.
I went inside to fetch clean bandages. Ever my loyal shadow, Boone followed, toenails clicking a beat behind me.
When I came back, Vek was watching June Bug chase a butterfly in slow, dizzy circles. His eyes softened in a way I’d never seen before.
“Hold still,” I said, kneeling beside him. “Let’s get this cleaned off.”
He looked down at me instead. “You fix again?”
“That’s what I do.” Careful not to touch the raw edge of the wound, I unwound the bandage. It had healed faster than I expected, which was a small blessing.
“You heal fast,” I said. “Show-off.”
He made a low sound in his chest, something halfway between laughter and a hum. The vibration rolled through the air and into my hands.
“Keep this up, and I’ll have to hide the hammer just to make sure you rest.”
“Hide from me?” he asked, eyes glinting.
“Hide the hammer, not me.” I tied the new bandage snug and glanced up. “Although maybe I should. You’d never sit still if I didn’t keep you in one place.”
He tilted his head, curiosity flickering in his eyes. “You like when I sit?”
“Yeah,” I said, smiling before I could stop myself. “Means I get to breathe.”
He looked at my mouth then, just for a second too long, and the air changed. The easy rhythm between us wavered, caught somewhere between safety and something riskier.
I cleared my throat and stood. “No heavy lifting until tomorrow. Doctor’s orders.”
“Doctor?” he echoed.
“Someone who fixes people. Like I’m fixing you.”
“Then you are doctor,” he said.
“Lord help us all,” I muttered.
The corner of his mouth twitched, that almost-smile that had started to feel like my favorite bad habit.
The light stretched long across the yard, softening to honey. Boone flopped into the grass, June Bug claiming his belly as her pillow. Somewhere down the ridge, someone’s chimney sent up a thin coil of smoke.
Vek tipped his head back to look at the sky. “Pretty,” he said.
“Yeah.” I followed his gaze. “It’s a good kind of quiet today.”
He nodded, slow and thoughtful. “Quiet not always bad.”
“No,” I said softly. “Not anymore.”
I sank onto the porch swing, the chain complaining but holding.
Vek remained where he was on the top step, his knees bent, shoulders relaxed.
He looked less like a stranger now—still something out of legend, but no longer elusive.
The more he talked to me, the more I realized just how like me he was.
Hollyweird had Sasquatch all wrong—at least my Sasquatch. Mine? Nope. Goodness help me.
For a long time, we sat quietly, the creak of the swing nearly putting me to sleep. Then Boone’s head snapped up. He lifted his nose to the air and let out a long, lonely howl that echoed through the hollow, making a flock of birds flee from the trees like something from a horror flick.
“Don’t you dare,” I warned, already seeing the thought flash across Vek’s face, but before the words entirely left my mouth, Vek tilted his head toward the rising moon and joined in, his voice like some kind of werewolf.
The sound rolled across the yard, shaking the porch boards.
Boone barked mid-note, thrilled by the duet.
It only took a second for June Bug to join in. Make that three idiots and me.
I tried to scold him, but laughter hit so hard I had to bend over. “Stop! Lord, stop! The whole ridge is gonna think I’m keeping wolves.”
Quieting, he watched me with that half-smile that had started to feel dangerous. “Funny,” he said.
Still laughing, I nodded. “I think you’re trouble.”
That earned another crooked smile. “Good trouble.”
“Can’t argue with that,” I said, wiping the tears from my eyes.
Everything settled again, soft and gold under the last stretch of daylight. Fireflies blinked near the porch, their small lights weaving between the boards.
“Guess you’re officially part of the pack now,” I said, my laugh finally fading.
He considered that for a moment, then nodded. “Good pack,” he said simply.
Something eased inside me, although I was afraid of what that meant. “Yeah,” I murmured. “Good pack.”
The swing kept its slow rhythm, Boone sighed from his patch of grass, and Vek sat near enough that his warmth reached me through the cooling air. It wasn’t the kind of quiet that asked for space. It was the kind that felt like home.