Chapter 22
Brianne urged me to stay the night, but I insisted on walking home. I wanted a shower and the bedroom that seemed to be my only sanctuary at the moment. I had a lot to atone for, even more to think about, and a deep, ugly fact to face.
By constantly squashing my power and ignoring my voice, I’d done more than hurt myself or hold myself back.
My inability to embrace my powers was affecting others.
I’d alienated my son, the one person I loved most in the world.
I’d hurt Jeff and Doug, and even if it was unintentional, I needed to be more responsible.
I had a lot to fix. Maybe I didn’t deserve everything Agatha had left me or to be forgiven, but no one else should suffer for my own lack of self-worth.
The exterior lights accenting the path to the Magnolia were brighter as I neared. I hadn’t done that. There were wild purple flowers I didn’t recognize blooming in the window boxes. The two rockers on the porch had fresh paint in the same shade. I hadn’t done that either.
But, I’d given House a nudge. And it made her stronger.
“You’re looking more beautiful every day, House, did you know that?”
If a house could preen, that’s what happened. There was a shimmer, so slight I almost didn’t catch it, and an even slighter vibration beneath my feet. The windowpanes, only moments ago buried under a layer of grime, wiped themselves clean.
“Oh, that’s lovely, House!”
There was another preen. I rounded the front of the house and made my way down the narrow pathway—barely wide enough for one person—to the metal stairs in the back leading to my apartment. Even in the dim of night, I could see they’d been redone, too.
“You’re starting to blossom. Just like a magnolia, you sweet Magnolia.” I touched my hand to the wall, a friendly pat on the side.
The response was chaos.
Vivid lights flashed red, blinding me. An ear-piercing wail shrieked through the silence until my eardrums ached. In a fit of terror, I darted toward my stairs, my heart pounding in my chest. Had I set off an alarm? Brianne hadn’t mentioned anything about one.
I stopped just short of the stairs.
My wolf—and I considered him mine whether he wanted to be or not—guarded the back entrance to the Magnolia. By now, I had no reason to believe he would hurt me. And since I’d learned Ethan was a wolf shifter, I had to assume I was dealing with someone who was also part-human.
Given the way every inch of my body responded to the slightest twitch of his fur, I’d venture a guess this was someone I knew. And who knew me.
“Whoever you are, I’m sorry but I don’t remember you.” My throat wavered, a sign I was lying to myself. “Okay, I remember you, and there’s an obvious connection here, but I can’t find it yet.” I waved my hand around my head. “I’m having memory issues.”
I was talking to a wolf in the dark, protecting a magic house I’d just inherited. Life got a little stranger each day. The wolf stepped forward, tilting his head toward the floodlights to make himself more visible. It was the first time I noticed he wore a collar.
Attached to the collar was a charm with a familiar logo. Lone Wolf Sentries. The same security firm where Doug worked.
“So, I tripped an alarm and security responded. Sorry. Not sure how I did that.” Not Ethan, but this wolf was not Doug either, who’d had nothing in his files about being part dog. “Can you … show yourself to me? I’d love to know who you are.”
Hoo boy, the way that flowed from my body was like water flowing through a stream. Crystal clear in a way that left me tingly. Yes, please, Mr. Wolfy. Show me who you are.
The wolf’s ears rotated forward. He let out a single sharp bark.
“Are you not allowed to … shift on duty?”
He took another step forward. As he did, the air between us shimmered. A thousand particles of light illuminated the yard. He was a haze on all fours, then nearly on two.
“Hey, CC, sorry about that!” Gumbo hopped from the balcony above to land in front of me. In a blink, the wolf was back on the pads of his paws. And a surprisingly horny thrill landed in my gut like a thud.
I had a wolf kink. Who knew?
“Brianne called to tell me you were on your way.” Gumbo licked one orange-nailed paw, giving me time to digest that he had a phone. “I was supposed to greet you before you got here, to keep the alarm from going off. But you took too long, and I fell asleep.”
“I took the long route home, I guess.” My eyes were on the wolf, trying to read the expression in his eyes. Before I could figure it out, he bounded off to the trees lining the back of the property and disappeared. “Why hasn’t the alarm gone off before?”
“There’s always been someone who belonged here.” Gumbo padded up the stairs. “I’ll let you in.”
I followed him in and rushed to the shower. Cold sweat covered my skin. I was raw from dinner. Heartbroken about my son. And filled with wolf-induced adrenaline.
But most of all, a profound sense of disappointment shrouded me. The alarm had gone off because I still didn’t belong. I was still an outsider.
That night, my dreams were tormented and frenetic.
Moments from my life flashed through my mind in a chaotic montage.
A reserved smile at Jeff on our wedding day.
Intense studying in the college library.
Laughing with Ethan as we ran the high school track.
Visiting Agatha here at a different but still familiar Magnolia.
That damn park bench that teased me with its importance yet refused to show.
The wolf was there, in every image, lurking in corners and hiding in bushes. His green eyes, intense and longing, followed my every move. I searched for him, desperate for the feel of him, wanting nothing more than to get lost in him.
But he was always just out of reach, the very thing I longed for and could never have, a bittersweet desire forever unfulfilled, leaving me intoxicated and alone.