Wolf’s eyebrows rise as I walk around him to go upstairs. “Sounds interesting.”
I stop a couple steps up and turn. “Do you want to come?”
“Which farm?”
“The McClendon farm, off Skyview.”
He’s silent a moment, looking down at the first step before back up at me again. “No, I’m pretty anxious to find something around the yard.”
I feel my shoulders fall, just a fraction. “Okay,” I say hesitantly and head up the stairs, quickly expelling my disappointment on an exhale.
19
WOLF
The muted crash of a familiar rumble nudges me awake in the night. I keep my eyes closed as I register my surroundings, and a relaxing comfort emanates through my body as the thunder fades out. I fucking love thunderstorms. They’re exciting and powerful but relaxing and grounding at the same time. It’s like mother nature is releasing some pent-up energy, and it comes with soothing white noise and a side of unpredictability. A flash of lightning illuminates the room in pale blue for a heartbeat before leaving my eyes to adjust to the blackness again.
The heavy rain batters the roof, and I patiently wait for the next ominous crack of thunder. When it comes, the boom sends a gratifying rumble rolling through the nearby mountains. I settle in to enjoy the mild vibration it sends through my chest, but it’s cut off abruptly by a frenzied scream right next to me. My sleepy mind processes the sound and kicks into gear, making me shoot straight up in bed and whip the covers off my legs. After the recent issue with the fence, I immediately thinkintruderandgo into fight mode, ready to tackle the threat. But the next spark of lightning through the room reveals there’s no one else here.
Except for Molly, who’s sitting straight up in bed and gasping in the darkness, her shoulders rising and falling rapidly with her whimpering cries.
My next actions confuse me. My brain is still in protective mode, but now it’s switched to a level I’ve never played on before. Yet somehow it figures everything out as I go along, reaching for Molly. “Molly. Molly, baby…” I crawl over and grapple for both of her arms, holding them firmly. “Molly, it’s okay. You’re safe. You’re at home…with me,” I tell her, like that last part should mean something. A tiny entity deep inside has me hoping it does. “Bad dream?” I venture to ask.
She shakes her head vehemently, still trying desperately to draw in air. Her hands vibrate jerkily as if she’s trying to rid herself of something vile. “I’m scared! I’m scared of thunderstorms. I?—”
Another resounding crash outside cuts off her words. Her body jolts, and my body reacts, yanking her into me and throwing my arms around her trembling body. She cries out again, sounding borderline helpless, and I swear I feel a small crack in my normally stone-like heart. I hold her fast, fixed on calming her down, ignoring our awkward position: her shoulder is wedged into my chest and one of my arms practically crushes her against my body while the other is curled around her head as if I’m shielding her from some viscous beast.
“It’s okay,” I whisper, relaxing my hold just enough to smooth a hand down her arm. A grown adult being afraid of thunderstorms is a new one to me, but I’m hardly in the position to judge another person’s quirks or discomforts.
Her hazel eyes glow a greyish-blue in the light of the lightning strike, but her cries grow quieter and turn to airy gasps. After a breath or two, she finally nods.
“I’ve got you baby,” I assure her, and she nods again. I haven’t counted in my head how far away the next boom will be, so I wait, just letting Molly’s breathing even out, and when it comes, I’m ready.
The next crash seems to split the sky in half, and Molly goes stiff, her shoulders coming up around her ears. Her hands fly up to hook around my arm, which is wrapped around her.
I grab onto one of her hands and say, “Squeeze my hand,” which she does. “Good girl,” I tell her as I squeeze back. Lightning flickers again, and she releases her grip along with a heavy breath. “How do you normally get through these?” I ask.
She licks her lips and swallows hard and tries to stammer out an answer. “I—I turn everything on….lights, TV… so it feels like it’s not happening,” she manages, her body still shaking.
Though that seems outlandish on the surface, my brain pieces together the logic. Nodding my understanding, I unwind one arm from her body and reach over to flick her bedside lamp on. The click of the switch is loud and almost mocking when it declines to produce light. “Fuck,” I mutter. “Power’s out,” I state the obvious as I look back at Molly.
Her eyes are squeezed tightly shut, and her breath is still trying and failing to follow a steady rhythm.
I know damn well there’s little to nothing I can do, but Molly’s distressed state has me unwilling to give up. With the same arm, I grab the flashlight from the bedside drawer and release her to climb out of the bed. “I’m going to go see if it’s the breaker?—”
“Wait!” Molly belts out before closing her eyes and breathing in deep. She’s trying so hard to be brave and control herself. “I’ll come with you” she says a bit quieter, gripping my arm.
“Okay.” I nod before taking her hand without even thinking about it.
The flashlight beam leads us down the hallway and through the kitchen, where the power outage is confirmed by the darkness over the oven. Just as we get to the door that leads out to the garage, another crash resounds over our heads. This time, Molly shrieks, turning and throwing her arms around my neck. She’s up on her toes, almost like she’s trying to climb me, and instinctually, both my arms go around her. Her body trembles against mine as the flashlight in my hand casts a spotlight down at our feet. I haven’t held her like this since our wedding dance, and I wish my brain had more time to process how it feels. But the one thing it’s trying to make sense of is how terrified she is.
Once this roll of thunder fades, we make quick work of padding into the garage, where I test the main breaker with no joy. “It’s going to be out for a while,” I tell Molly regretfully.
She nods, accepting the reality as we venture back inside.
“It’ll be okay. That last one was already getting further away,” I tell her, and she nods again as we journey back to the bedroom.
There’s no question… I’m definitely going to stay awake with her. We both get comfortable on the pillows facing each other. Molly holds out her hand, and I take it in mine, tucking the other one under the pillow.
