“See?” Daniel beamed. “It fits just right!”
Aimee smiled back, trying not to laugh. It wasn’t easy. Dante was stuffed into his kitty Christmas sweater like a summer sausage.
The cat gave one mournful meow, and then collapsed onto his side as if he’d been shot through the heart. Whatever dignity he’d possessed before was now gone. He stared up at them, eyes rolling, ears back.
“Uh, buddy.” Jake rubbed his chin.
Aimee watched Jake with butterflies in her belly. He looked absolutely edible today. Of course, he looked edible most days. But this morning, his dark stubble had given way to a new, sexy beard. He wore a red sweater, loose-fitting Levi’s, and heavy boots. He must have sensed her watching, because he looked over and winked.
He returned his attention back to his son and said, “I think it might be a little small.”
As if to emphasize the point, Dante meowed again. Only it sounded more like a cry for help.
Daniel frowned and assessed the cat.
“You know what?” she said. “I’m pretty good at sewing. Or I used to be. Why don’t you let me adjust it a little? We could even put some Velcro on there to let his belly breathe.”
Daniel looked hopeful. “Really?”
Dante smacked his tail on the floor twice. The sweater had worked its way up to his kitty armpits. He looked thoroughly pissed off.
“Yeah,” she said. “I think it’ll work great.”
“He does look a little mad.”
Jake picked up the cat and peeled the sweater off then plopped him down so he could waddle away. The cat paused just long enough to lick his fur back in place.
“Good choice, buddy,” he said.
Daniel yawned and rubbed his eyes. He’d had a long day. The guys had spent most of Christmas at Jake’s parents’ house, then had gone to put flowers on Lizzie’s grave, something she knew was heartbreaking for them both. Afterward, they’d come back to the cottage in time to invite Aimee to dinner. They’d decided on tacos, giving her a chance to make her mother’s famous salsa, which she’d been craving for months. It had been a hit.
They’d eaten, exchanged small presents, then played Candy Land by the fire until Dante’s sweater had made its appearance.
It had been one of the nicest Christmases she’d ever had. Unconventional and totally wonderful.
Jake picked Daniel up, and the little boy wrapped his arms around his father’s neck. “Time for bed, champ.”
She leaned in and rubbed his back. “Thank you for inviting me tonight,” she said. “I had so much fun.”
He turned sleepily toward her. “Don’t forget about my birthday.”
“I wouldn’t forget for the world. You don’t turn four every day.”
He smiled, obviously happy she recognized what a big deal it was.
Jake threw her a look over his shoulder. “Be right back.”
He disappeared down the hall, and she walked over to the frost-covered window, looking out into the blackness. No new snow tonight, but the thick, white blanket from a few days ago covered the winter landscape.
She looked up at the evergreens that stood sentry over the cottage, and beyond, to the swath of star-speckled sky where a half-moon hung like a light bulb.
Tonight, she felt an appropriate kind of peace. There were no ominous goosebumps along her arms, no feeling of being watched. Only serenity, as if whatever was out there slept.
“What are you looking at?”
She jumped, not realizing Jake had walked up behind her. He slid his arms around her waist and nuzzled her neck. She shivered at the feel of his beard against her skin.
“Nothing, I guess. Just the night.”
“Beautiful,” he said.
She nodded, smiling at their reflection in the glass. He caught her gaze and held it for a long, pregnant moment.
“Aimee.”
“Yes?”
“I want you to meet my parents.”
Aimee felt the smile wilt on her lips. She stiffened.
Jake must have felt it too, because he pulled his arms from her waist.
She waited, her heart thumping unevenly in her chest. She thought it might beat right through.
The clock in the kitchen ticked off the seconds, and the sound hurt her ears.
Jake took a step back, and she immediately felt his warmth, his essence give way.
“I love you,” he said.
His voice was deep and even, but she had a feeling he willed it to be that way. Willed it not to betray what lay underneath. Anger maybe? Pain? She didn’t know. But she could guess. She’d known this was coming.
“I love you too,” she replied.
“That’s settled then. We love each other.”
She turned to him with tears in her eyes, her throat aching. “Yes,” she said.
“We love each other. And people who love each other don’t keep secrets.”
“I wish it was that simple.”
“Why? Why can’t it be that simple? I want you to meet my family. I want to take you to a movie. Go out to dinner.” His eyes flashed. “Living this way isn’t normal. At the very least you owe me an explanation. At minimum.”
Hot tears spilled down her cheeks. She didn’t bother wiping them away. “I’m scared.”
His face softened, but he didn’t reach for her. He stood his ground now. Mentally. Physically. This was it. “Of what?”
“Everything.”
“I can’t protect you if you don’t tell me, baby. I can’t help you if I don’t know what this is all about.”
He’d never called her that before. It made her want to curl up in a ball and ask him to hold her until she woke up from this nightmare. But she would never wake up, would she? This was her life like it or not, this was it. She’d been so content before. So peaceful about what she’d become. Or at least she thought she’d been. But she hadn’t had so much riding on it before either. The game had changed. Now she could lose it all with one explanation.
“You can’t protect me, Jake. No one can.”
He stared down at her, frustration written all over his face. His jaw muscles bunched, then relaxed again. “Try me.”
She laughed bitterly. “I’m the one who’s supposed to be protecting you.”
The cottage was so quiet. Even the ticking of the clock in the kitchen seemed subdued now, as if it listened for what would come next.
“What?”
She took a deep breath, letting the air fill her lungs completely, imagining the oxygen saturating every cell. Then she released it slowly, methodically. This is it. This is the second you lose everything.
“I’m not what you think I am.”
He frowned and crossed his arms over his chest, a movement she now knew to be a defensive one. He was preparing himself.
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m…different.”
“I knew that from the first second I met you.”
“No. I’m different.”
His eyes were stormy. “Don’t play games with me.”
“I’m not playing games. God, I wish I were.”
He continued watching her warily.
She lifted her chin, summoning all the courage she had. She used to have more, a long time ago, in another place. She was fearless once. Now she felt like a little kid. Tired and scared.
“I think your grandfather knew a lot more about Wolfe Creek than you understand,” she said.
He lowered his head.
“This isn’t a normal place, Jake. I think you’ve probably known that for a while. But most of us want to deny the things that make us uncomfortable, or not question too deeply. There’s nothing wrong with that. It’s a survival instinct, I think. It’s human nature.”
“Not normal?”
She knew she’d hit a nerve. Just like she knew he was thinking about his wife right then. About how she died, and how he’d always questioned it. Lizzie hadn’t been killed by a wolf, but Jake had probably always sensed one near just the same. He’d known this forest wasn’t what it appeared to be. His grandfather had known it. His son knew it. Had seen it with his own eyes. But Jake, firmly rooted in science and proof, had denied it all along. But how long would he continue to do so? Even with the truth looking him right in the eyes.
“The stories around here,” she said quietly. “People are so quick to dismiss them. But they’ve been around for generations. Years and years of legend and myth. The trick is separating fact from fiction.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“You say you love me.” She forced herself not to break eye contact, and it was the hardest thing she’d ever done. “Will you love me always? No matter what I say to you now?”
He swallowed visibly. Tears filled her eyes again. Her eyes, which were changing… They burned and stung until she felt them go round and luminous with color.
He dropped his hands to his sides. Stepped back. Stumbled over a lamp table, catching it before it tottered to the floor.
She reached out, stifling a sob.
“Don’t touch me,” he said, his voice nothing more than a whisper. “Don’t fucking touch me.”
* * * *
Jake’s pulse pounded in his temples. Sweat popped up along his hairline. This wasn’t happening. Dreaming...he had to be dreaming. It was a nightmare like all the others.
Only it didn’t feel like a nightmare. He could smell the pine from the Christmas tree, the smoke from the fireplace. He could feel the wooden lamp table beneath his hands, the rough spot he always warned Daniel about.
Aimee stood a few feet away. She was crying. But her eyes weren’t hers. They weren’t normal. They’d changed in a matter of seconds. They were no longer the rich, dark pools that he could see himself in, but the color of honey, their shape round as saucers.
“What the fuck…”
He heard the words. Then realized they’d come from him. And all he could think of was Lizzie. Lizzie. Dead for so many months now. Killed by something horrific. And the secret of what—who—that was had died with her.
But Jake had always wondered…
“You’re a…”
He gripped the tabletop until his fingers bit into the wood. A splinter dug into his thumb, but he barely registered the pain. Anger, like a screaming kettle, boiled inside him. Damn his grandfather. Damn him straight to hell for unearthing whatever this was. Damn Aimee Styles for coming into his life like this. Damn this fucking town and all its secrets and misery.
Had he known all along? The wolfman, Daddy. He heard Daniel’s voice reverberate through his head. The wolfman… He saw the police reports of Lizzie’s death. How they’d wanted to keep it from him because it had been that bad. “It’s not something you need to see,” the deputy had said. “I wouldn’t, Doctor Blackstock.”
He felt his grandfather’s hand on his shoulder, heard his voice as he told him about the legend of Wolfe Creek. Jake had asked if it had been real. And his grandfather had only looked away.
“It’s not something I wanted,” Aimee said, her voice faltering. “But it’s something I have to live with now. It’s part of me.”
Jake took another step back, his pulse roaring in his ears. “Yeah, no shit.”
She flinched at the words, lowering her head but refusing to look away. So beautiful. So deceptive. Slowly, slowly, anger began to overtake the confusion. It was like someone had stabbed him directly between the shoulder blades then twisted the knife.
“I trusted you,” he hissed. “I let you near my son.”
Aimee’s lips quivered. “I’d never hurt Daniel,” she said. “I’d rather die first.”
“And I’m supposed to believe that?”
“Of course.”
“After what happened to Lizzie?”
“Jake—”
“No.” His voice boomed through the living room. “No,” he said, quieter this time. “I asked you so many times to tell me what was going on. So many times. And you lied.”
“I didn’t lie. I never lied to you.”
“Bullshit.”
“How was I supposed to tell you?” Her eyes flashed. “This isn’t exactly something you just lay out on the table. You wouldn’t have believed me. You wouldn’t have—”
He jabbed a finger in her direction. “With your eyes like that? I wouldn’t have had a choice, would I?”
“Please listen to me.”
“I don’t know what more you think there is to say.”
She shook her head. “There’s so much more. This isn’t a death sentence for me. It’s not a death sentence for us.”
He blinked, furious at the love he still felt when looking at her. At the same time wanting to take her by the shoulders and throw her out of his house.
He took another step back, afraid of what he might actually do. “They said it was true,” he breathed. “All the locals, all the old timers. Everyone thought they were crazy.”
She stood as still as a slab of stone, not trying to follow him or reach out anymore. The look on her face one of pure and absolute sorrow.
Somewhere in the deepest corner of his mind, he felt that tug at him. Some part of him inexplicably wanted to hold her and tell her it would be okay. This was Aimee, the same woman he’d laughed with, made love with, fallen in love with. But she was also a complete stranger. A slow, pulsing rage prevented him from doing anything but stare at her.
“But then Lizzie died,” he continued, “and Daniel went missing and came back talking about a wolfman. I thought I was insane for thinking about it so much. I thought I was going nuts.”
“You’re sensitive to it,” she said softly. “Your grandfather, the fact that you grew up here, Daniel’s experience. They all made you intuitive where other people might not be.”
“And Lizzie?” he bit out. “What about her?”
“Lizzie’s death was exactly what you were told—a horrible, horrible accident. Nothing more.”
“That’s not what my fucking nightmares say.”
“It’s normal to get what happened to her and what happened to Daniel mixed up in your mind. In your subconscious. I think you’ve sensed something for a long time and you just didn’t know what to do with it.”
He nodded, watching her. “And what makes you think you know one thing about how I’ve felt all this time? Some kind of supernatural clairvoyance?”
“I majored in psychology.”
The absurdity of the moment made him want to laugh. It was funny, but it wasn’t. Holy fuck. He put his head in his hands, wanting to scream. His arms shook. His fists trembled. Not real. None of it was.
Slowly, he looked up at Aimee, who gazed back. Her eyes were still the unsettling amber that they’d been before. Her face just as beautiful. Her cheeks still wet with tears.
This wasn’t any dream. He wouldn’t wake from it in a cold sweat and be reassured by her warm, lithe body next to him. He wasn’t going to ever, ever go back to the world he’d known before, where things were sad and fucked-up but at least they made sense.
This was his reality now. And it made him physically sick.
“How?” His voice sounded like it belonged to some old man he barely recognized.
Aimee lifted her chin, clearly in pain. He could see it. But she also had a stubborn pride that came from somewhere deep inside. She may be hurting, but she wasn’t going to feel ashamed.
“I was bitten the night Maggie Sullivan and I stopped in Wolfe Creek. It was an accident. It wasn’t supposed to be this way.”
He watched her, the way her lips trembled. But her voice remained steady.
“So, an accident,” he said, not really knowing what he’d expected her to say. Then he realized that whatever it was, it would all sound equally bizarre. “Then what?”
“Then I had to come to terms with what happened to me. It took a lot of time. A lot of effort to understand. It was…a nightmare at first.”
He didn’t say anything, just waited for what would come next, grinding his teeth in an effort to stay calm.
“But after a while, I realized that I could live like this…if my life meant something.”
“Meant something…what?”
“If it meant that I could live as something good and decent.”
He closed his eyes. Lizzie. When he opened them again, his blood had cooled. “Something decent. How is that possible?”
“It’s very possible.”
“Is it?”
“You’re angry, and I get that,” she said evenly. “But you know me. You know I’m not capable of anything violent. We protect these woods. The people in them.”
“We?”
She crossed her arms over her chest and ran her tongue along her lips, wetting them so they glistened in the firelight. “Yes. There are others.”
He thought about that. Of course. Of course there were others. She’d been bitten by one of them… All of a sudden, he felt like throwing up. Taking a step back, he steadied himself against the couch.
“Daniel,” she said softly. “A wolf really did carry him home that night. It wasn’t his imagination, Jake.”
The wolfman.
“Who?” Jake’s head throbbed. There was an insistent swoosh, swoosh of blood flowing behind his ears. “Wait. You know what? I don’t even want to know. How am I supposed to deal with this? How the fuck am I supposed to go on and act like everything is normal?”
“I don’t know if you can. It’s part of why I didn’t want to tell you. Part of why this whole thing is so complicated.”
He looked at her. Tried to see past those strange, gold eyes. But all he could see was deceit.
“What happened to Lizzie was an accident. There’s been nothing but goodness here for a long time. But you need to know that’s changed. Just in the last few months, it’s changed. There’s something here now that’s dangerous.”
He rubbed his temples. The dull throbbing had become the scraping of an ice pick. “What?”
She took a step forward, and he tensed. When she noticed, she stopped, looking wounded.
“Look,” she said. “Whatever happens between you and me, you need to know that. You need to be careful, okay?”
Lizzie. The attacks on the animals in town. The feeling of being watched… Was it what Aimee said? Something different? Evil? Or just it another lie? More of her own kind wreaking havoc in a town that had no idea what lay beyond its pines.
It was all something out of a movie. Something that no matter what she said, or how her goddamn eyes looked, he couldn’t bring himself to accept. Not yet. Maybe not ever. She’d asked him to think rationally about something that couldn’t be encompassed by his notion of reality.
She took another hesitant step forward, but he put his hand out to stop her.
“No.”
The color drained from her face. Some of the life had drained from her too. He wanted to hold her. But he wanted her to leave. He just couldn’t understand how he hadn’t known. How he’d been led to believe that their relationship was normal.
“I want you to go now,” he said, his voice cold and flat. “Please. Just go.”
Tears slid down her cheeks. She took an uneven step to the side and picked up her jacket from the chair by the door. She no longer looked strong and athletic, but fragile, like the next cruel word from him would break her into a hundred little pieces.
Hard to believe that he’d held her and kissed her just a few nights ago. Even harder to believe that a few minutes ago he’d asked her to tell him the truth, because he longed for a life with her. A future with her.
Now he didn’t know what to do with that longing. It lingered there, on the outskirts of his consciousness. But the anger was too strong to let it back in again.
So he watched her reach for the door and unlock it. Then turn with her hair in her eyes. She didn’t bother brushing it back.
“I won’t be far, Jake,” she said. “Just be safe, okay?”
Then she was gone, and the warmth in the room went with her.