Chapter 22 #2
His angry tone was coming from his fear, so I did my best to remain patient as we picked our way down the slippery trail.
“Want to tell me what happened?” I asked after a few minutes of silence. “What you argued about?”
Wolfe blew out a breath. “Not really.”
I tried to be patient, but I understood why he’d responded that way. “What if I promise not to freak out?”
He huffed. “Would you mean it?”
“I’d try my best.” I lifted him over a small stream cutting across the trail, then set him back down carefully on the other side.
He sniffed and looked away, into the dark shadows of the surrounding forest. “I was an idiot.”
“Stop.” I turned to face him, yanking my headlamp up again so as not to blind him. “Having someone abuse your trust makes them an asshole. Doesn’t say anything about you.”
Wolfe nodded, unconvinced.
I used my thumb to wipe the rain off his cheeks. “You’re worrying me, baby,” I said softly. “What happened?”
He leaned forward and wrapped both arms around my neck again, clearly wanting a hug despite the sodden mess of muddy rain jackets and his daypack between us. I moved my hands from where they’d been steadying him by his hips until they banded around his back and squeezed tight.
“You’re okay,” I murmured again.
“He knows I’m Wolfe Marian, Jude’s son.”
I froze. From what Shay had said, I wondered if that wasn’t all Jake knew. But I had to remind myself not to push.
Not now, when Wolfe was already upset.
Not when I was still hoping Wolfe would tell me the truth about Fletcher Coe in his own time.
“You don’t seem surprised,” Wolfe mumbled.
“I’m not. Jake referred to you as Wolfe at the campfire the other night. I figured maybe you’d told him.”
He let out a shaky breath. “Not on purpose. He saw it on my credit card. I thought he was chill about it, you know? Like he might not ask for favors.” Wolfe glanced away again. “He wants me to help his sister get a music career.”
“Is that why you argued?”
He shrugged. “Partly. I told him I couldn’t, wouldn’t, do that. But I… I felt bad for him and Shay. They got a shitty deal with their parents and everything. It’s not fair that I grew up with everything while they grew up with nothing. Then Jake got angry, and he… Well. It got worse from there.”
He was babbling like he was still nervous, which made sense. He was probably going into shock. I needed to get him off this trail and into a warm shower.
Listening to this sweetheart rant in defense of the man who’d just left him cold and injured on the muddy ground was one of the reasons I couldn’t help but love him.
Wolfe Marian had a huge heart. Just like his fathers.
Just like the man I’d met all those years ago in the bar who’d worried more for the broke-ass barback than the fact that he’d almost had his throat cut.
Just like that man’s husband, who would give anyone the shirt off his back if it would keep them warm.
But knowing how Jake had tried to use Wolfe’s kindness against him was infuriating. Resentment slithered over me with every raindrop that snuck under my jacket, cold and slimy on already chilled skin.
“How much money did the Bluebell Foundation give away last year to help people in need?” I gritted out as I turned us back onto the trail and prayed for patience. By my estimation, we had two miles left to go. At this rate, we’d be on the trail for another couple of hours.
“That’s not the same as being born with privilege, and you know it.”
“Maybe not. But I’m not exactly in the mood to feel sorry for Jake fucking Mason.”
“Neither am I.” Wolfe let out a sound that I mistook for a sob.
“I’m sorry, baby—” I began before realizing it had been a snort. A snort of laughter. “Wolfe, what the fuck?”
He laughed until we had to stop so he could double over. “Oh my god, I can’t believe that actually happened. He left me up there on the fucking mountain. And all I could think was that I was like the damsel in distress in a cheesy thriller movie, waiting for a rescue—”
“Except that you saved yourself,” I pointed out.
Wolfe stopped and looked at me for a long moment. Then his whole face softened. “You always fucking know what to say, Trace Bishop.”
I stared at him. I didn’t think that was true, but I was glad he did.
“I was thinking about you,” he added conversationally as we moved down the trail again, picking up a little speed.
“The whole time Jake was ranting. When I was terrified coming down the mountain. I pictured your face. Heard your voice in my head, reminding me of all the survival stuff you’ve taught me over the years and telling me to keep going. ”
My heart squeezed, hand tightening around him involuntarily. “Baby—”
“If I saved myself, you made it possible.” His eyes met mine. “I couldn’t have done it without you, Trace. You know? I need you.”
The soft words washed over me. I knew what it meant for him to say that, given how worried he’d been about seeming less than capable.
I opened my mouth to confess just how much I needed him, too, when the shadows moved on the trail ahead of us and I heard a shout.
“Trace Bishop! That you?”
Wolfe jerked in surprise and accidentally set his bad foot down, wincing when pain flared up. I cursed and leaned into him, lifting his bad leg up from under his knee with my free hand.
“Yeah! Up here,” I called.
Clay’s headlamp bounced toward us, and when I finally saw the familiar bearded grin beneath it, I let out a breath of relief.
“Hey, thanks for coming,” I said, offering him a smile instead of a handshake.
“Figured you might need some extra hands when your text mentioned the bad ankle. This our subject?” He gave Wolfe a little wave and introduced himself before pulling a couple of microfiber towels from his backpack.
“Dry off as best you can while I pop some hot packs for your pockets. Suspected ankle sprain and some exposure to the unfriendly elements. Anything else?”
Wolfe hesitated and darted a glance at me. “Uh. Not really? A little headache, and I’m thirsty.”
“No problem,” Clay said. “I also have acetaminophen for pain and extra water bottles.”
Wolfe took a deep breath and seemed to come to a decision. “Would it be dangerous to take the medicine if I was… drugged?”
The temperature on the mountain went up by several degrees as the resentment that had been kindling inside me burst into a towering rage. “He fucking— Baby, why didn’t you tell me?”
Wolfe clutched the back of my jacket tight in one hand. His other hand clamped over mine where I held his hip. He was, I realized, grounding me in place, in case I decided to run off and commit a quick execution.
Which explained why he hadn’t mentioned this before now.
I inhaled sharply through my nose and tried to keep it together. Wolfe had fucking crawled to get to me. I could control myself for his sake.
For now.
“I think he drugged the water bottle he gave me at lunch,” Wolfe explained to Clay, his voice hoarse but controlled.
“I don’t know what drug it was. He said it would make me loopy, but he was talking like he still expected me to be able to make it down the trail under my own power.
And he seemed pretty shocked when it hit me as hard as it did.
I, ah… passed out shortly after. Maybe early afternoon?
Next thing I knew, I was waking up tied to a tree, and it was almost dusk—”
I couldn’t help the feral growl that escaped my throat.
How fucking dare Jake Mason? He’d drugged Wolfe, imprisoned him, and left him to the elements for hours?
If Wolfe was even one-tenth less strong than he was—
Clay’s eyes met mine like he understood exactly what I was feeling.
But when he spoke, it was to Wolfe, and his voice was serious and kind.
“Acetaminophen will probably be fine. But we have a bus at the bottom of the hill. Let’s have the EMTs check you out and take any samples we need, and they can let you know what’s safe, okay? ”
Wolfe nodded. In the meantime, I pulled out my own water bottle and handed it to him. He took it without hesitation and took several deep gulps.
Clay slung his pack back over his shoulder and stepped closer. Wolfe immediately stepped back and nearly tripped over my boot. Thankfully, my arm was already around him, so I was able to keep him from hitting the dirt.
“Sorry,” Wolfe apologized immediately. “Maybe I’m still a little loopy.”
Clay held up his hands. “No, I should’ve warned you before I moved. I was going to offer to take a spell with the assisted walking to give Trace a break.”
“No,” I said quickly. “That’s okay. I have him.”
The idea of another man touching him right now sat as uncomfortably for me as it seemed to for Wolfe.
“But you can take one of our packs?” I suggested.
“Not mine.” Wolfe turned pleading eyes up to me. “Please.”
I shrugged. I couldn’t imagine what was so important about his pack, but if it meant something to him, that was enough for me.
I handed my pack off to Clay, who took it with a nod.
To my surprise, after a moment of consideration, Wolfe did remove his pack. “You can carry it,” he said, not quite looking at me. “Easier walking when I can hold the strap.”