She looks up from the cutting board with brows raised and a faint smile.
I can’t decide if I want that to enrage me or soothe me. “What did you mean when you said they couldn’t send Wolf for the elk?” I finish my question with a weak exhale. My arms feel tight, and anxiety clenches at my stomach.
Vanessa grabs a small white tub and a handful of limes from under the bar top. “Oh… the McClendon farm is toward the end of Skyview.” Her voice is light and calm with just a hint of something else laced with it. Sympathy maybe?
My muscles partially relax—so this is about location and not Wolf’s route or timetable… “Right…” I voice weakly out loud as I search my brain.
Without missing a beat, Vanessa starts expertly carving out perfect wedges of lime. “Everything okay?” she asks, her face showing mild concern as she drops a handful of green half-moons into the white tub.
“Um, yeah…” I breathe and rub at my forehead. “Just trying to place what that means.”
“Well,” she murmurs softly and pauses her movements. “His parents, remember? Skyview is where Mr. and Mrs. Owens had their accident. Wolf’s never been able to go down that road since.”
Several knots of tension start to loosen and release when she puts it together for me…his wife.
Vanessa seems to scan my face with concern. “You knew that, right? Surely he told you?”
I’ve gone from being completely on edge to eminently mortified as I absently nod, processing a zephyr of emotions swirling around me. “Yeah,” I answer, trying to see through them all to produce an adequate response. “Yeah, I just forgot that it was Skyview,” I explain, knowing how weak and pathetic I sound. I strain to offer up a decent smile.
“Are you okay?” Her eyes are soft as she tilts her head slightly.
“Oh, yeah.” I shake my head slightly then try to correct my mannerisms, sure they’re coming off like I’m in a trance. “Yeah, just remembered something I forgot to do at the clinic,” I mumble, choosing the first words that come to me as I turn away.
I need to get out of here and to a safe place where I can process. And I need to talk to Wolf. Or maybe that should wait. I don’t know…
Chicken wings completely forgotten, I drive home with my elbow on the window and my head resting on my hand, willing myself to maintain a state of calm. With every mile that passes, I’m certain I need time alone; I cannot address this with Wolf just yet. Any hopes of beating him home are dashed, however, when I roll up the bumpy drive to find his truck parked in front.
After pulling in beside him, I sit for a moment in silence, save for the ticks and pings of the cooling engine. Maybe I can pass through with minimal interaction. Or maybe even walk aroundthe side of the house and grab my fishing gear from the shed. Throwing a line in the water and sitting in silence sounds like just what I need right now.
The soles of my boots crunch lightly on the gravel then go silent as I step on the grass and walk around to the barn. The back slider is open, and the burble of a Crushers game comes from the living room TV. A modicum of peace surfaces at the idea that Wolf is inside doing his own unwinding and hopefully doesn’t notice I’m home.
Squatting down, I take a quick inventory of my tackle box. I’m out of worms, so the few crickets I have will have to do. I snap the lid shut just in time to hear the screen open behind me. I turn, ready to exchange minimal words with my husband, hoping he’ll keep it short as usual so I can venture off to the river.
“What’s the matter?” He struts right toward the steps, setting his beer bottle down on the ledge.
No such luck. “What do you mean?” I turn fully as he tromps down the few steps. I feign being oblivious, but really, I’m dumbfounded at his very sudden astuteness.
“You never come home without at least coming in and saying hi to me.” He nods at my tackle box. “What’s going on?”
“Um.” I give an uncomfortable shrug. “It was kind of a high-stress day, so I was just going to decompress by the river.”
“What happened?”
I push my lips together and look anywhere but right at him. “Nothing.”
“Bullshit.” He strolls a few steps closer and brings a rough palm up to cup the side of my cheek. Dammit, his tender touch is not what I need right now. I could so easily just lean right into it and drop everything else. “Baby, look me and tell me what’s wrong,” he insists, ducking his head and trying to get our eyes to meet.
On reflex, I duck away. “No.”
“Molly,” the firmness in his voice has moved up a level, and a hint of hurt flashes across his eyes at the rejection. “I can tell something happened. You’ve got to tell me what’s wrong.”
“Right, because you always tellmewhat’s wrong.” I throw the words back at him, my voice so low even I struggle to hear it. With my hopes of avoidance obliterated, I feel pushed past my brink.
“What the hell does that mean?”
“It means, I just felt like a damn fool at the Holler when your old friend Vanessa had to tell me about Skyview Road.” My response rips the Band-aid off, and moisture gathers in my eyes.
Wolf’s shoulders go rigid and his head tilts back slightly. He licks his lips, looking off to the side. With his ball cap absent, his hands settle on his hips, his posture defensive.
