Chapter 6
Six
Bailey
I get in my car and head home, having parked closer to the doors. After last night, I don’t think I’ll ever park that far from the grocer’s entrance again. It was lucky that that wolf followed me to work and scared that man off, though I’ve still no idea why he did that, or why he followed me in the first place.
It’s weird; I don’t recall ever reading anything that said it’s normal wolf behavior for them to grow attached to a random human. Then again, I don’t know if it’s normal for a human to feel as connected to a random animal as I do to Wolfie. I can’t explain it, but something about his gray eyes pulls me in and makes me feel safe and protected. As if I know he’s always going to be there for me.
But that’s ridiculous. He’s a wild animal.
He was probably drawn to my cabin by the smell of food. The fact that he followed me to the city … Well, who knows what the hell that was about. Maybe he’s not had much luck finding food in the woods and hopes I’ll feed him. Yeah, that’s probably it.
I feel the familiar rumble of gravel beneath the tires as I turn down the long road that leads to my place. My heart jumps as I pull up to the deck .
There, in the soft glow of the porch light, sits Wolfie.
I get out and walk over, intrigued by how he waits patiently. “Hey, boy. You didn’t sit out here all day, did you?”
I crouch down beside him, and he whines, pressing his head into my chest as I scratch behind one of his ears. His body is warm as he leans against me, and some little piece of me feels guilty at the thought of leaving him out here all alone.
But he’s a wild animal. I can’t have him inside. Besides, he must have a den, cave, or something he lives in. I don’t know where wolves usually live, but he came from somewhere. Somewhere he needs to get back to.
I pat his head. “I have to head inside now. You should go home, okay? Go back to your pack or … whatever. There must be somewhere you belong.”
The funny thing is that some part deep inside me, some bit too loud to ignore, feels like he belongs here.
With me.
I shake it off as I head inside, glancing back. “Goodnight, Wolfie,’ I say as I shut the door.
I make myself dinner while light instrumental music plays in the background. It soothes me, the melody coaxing me here and there as I float around the kitchen and sway to the beat. I glance out the window occasionally, and every time, I see Wolfie still sitting there, looking back at me.
He’s still there by the time I head to bed, though he’s curled up and appears to be sleeping. The porch light has gone off with the lack of movement, and only a bit of moonlight filtering through the trees gives way to his shaggy presence. The evening darkness dulls the bits of red in his fur, but the sheer size of his enormous stature is still apparent. No wonder the man in the parking lot was so quick to run away.
I shut the lights off and retire to my room, plugging my phone in and giving my face a quick wash before tucking into bed.
That night, my brain is a swarm of light and color. Vibrant green hues glow in the sunlight of an unnaturally bright forest. It looks like the woods but on a psychedelic trip. The pinks, purples, and blues of various flowers wave and melt into the background, and I go walking for what feels like an exceptionally long time.
Finally, I break free from the woods and find myself in the center of a beautiful clearing. I stroll to the middle of it, and everything about it feels warm and familiar.
Then, from the tree line emerges a man.
He’s beautiful. He’s wearing blue jeans, but his upper half is unclothed. His muscular arms and chest move gracefully in the light as he makes his way over to me. He stands dangerously close to me, familiar gray eyes casting a mesmerizing spell on me as he draws nearer.
“Bailey …” he says, his voice trailing off. “Here I am.”
“You … You’re here,” I say, the response flowing from this dreamy version of me. “Why are we here?”
“Where would you rather be?” he asks. His eyes are soft, attentive even.
“Home. I want to go home,” I say firmly, and he takes my hand in his, his skin hot and radiant against my own.
In a subtle flash, the world spins, and we suddenly stand on the deck attached to my place. He opens the sliding glass door and pulls me inside, our fingers still interlocked.
He smiles as he asks, “Is this better?”
I nod. “Yeah. But how did you?—”
“We can do whatever we want here, Bailey, in this dream space.”
“Okay,” I say softly. “Hey, I didn’t ask you your name. You know mine, but I don’t know yours.”
He laughs, pulling us closer together. He grabs my other hand, bringing both to his face and kissing softly. “My name is Knox. Knox Roffe.”
The next thing I know, my alarm goes off, pulling me from the dream as I force heavy eyelids to open and welcome the light of day. I blink, trying to process what happened, but bits of the dream slip away like sand between fingers with each passing second.
All I remember is his name.
Knox .