Wolf lets his head drop back to regard me over his shoulder. His green eyes beckon in the flood light affixed to the side of the house.
“Molly… come on.”
“Nuh-uh.” I come up close, wedging myself between him and the seat.
“Molly, I got it. It’ll be fine, I can feel it.”
“Nope,” I look up at him, giving him a look I’ve come to learn he can’t resist. The one that very gently but effectively dares him to challenge me.
He finally blinks, looking away as he lets out a breath, dragging it over gravel before he leans in close to me. “You’re a pain in the ass,” he states, squeezing mine before moving past me to round the back of the truck.
I hop in and start the engine but before getting in the passenger side, I watch as Wolf crosses the yard, his silhouette moving against the barn's floodlight and his breath floating off as vapor into the unknown.
After unlocking the freezer, he tosses a cutlet of salmon out into the yard and turns, coming back towards the truck as the unmistakable outline of Velvet dashes into the clearing and just as quickly bolts back to the trees with the morsel of fish.
“Mutt,” he grunts, climbing into the cab.
“You love her,” I return as I put the truck in gear to pull out onto the dirt drive.
The sound of the road beneath our tires drones steadily in the dark and though neither Wolf nor I feel inclined to fill the silence, I inwardly brace myself for the turn coming up.
I slow the truck as I come to the fork and give Wolf a quick glance in my peripheral before making the left turn onto Skyview. Once I’ve turned us back straight, I feel his hand creep over into my lap. I take hold of it, wrapping my fingers around his larger ones and give it the lightest of squeezes.
I don’t mention it out loud, but this is the farthest we’ve gotten. Either the darkness is making for good blinders for Wolf, or his stubborn determination to not let me come out here alone is the most advanced form of armor. Either way, I decide not to bring attention to it.
It’s dark, our headlights picking up little else than what’s straight ahead of us, but I know when we come to the three-way intersection; the one where the drunk driver had blown the stop sign and would’ve put himself straight into the old oak tree on the other side had it not been for Wolf’s parents driving past at that moment.
I can feel Wolf still beside me, as the outermost scope of the headlights scrape along the sides of the road. I only barely take note of the green and white road sign of Wembley - the road the other driver was coming down - on my left and the oak he pinned Wolf’s parents against on my right. My attention is too hyperfocused on my husband beside me, who simply squeezes my hand.
I squeeze back, not looking at him, not wanting to break whatever protective bubble he has in place for himself because he sure as hell has something working for him at the moment.
With the crash site behind us, I make no mention of the accomplishment. I just keep hold of his hand on my lap and keep on driving.
When I finally pull up to the turnout near where the otter was reported, I cut the engine and finally turn to Wolf. His gaze is still set dead ahead, and I wonder if he spent the whole drive in some kind of tunnel vision.
Despite the fact I have an injured otter waiting, I can’t make a move until I know Wolf is alright; even knowing that he’d want me to go to my job.
“Babe?” I try, tenderly, and in the darkness, I barely see him blink before he turns his face towards mine.
“Hey.”
“Hey,” I return, giving him a smile but keep it at that. One thing I’ve learned is to not dig or pry any deeper than necessary for the moment. To produce as little stimuli as possible. “Do you want to come?” I nod out in the direction of the creek where I know Mr. Karas is keeping a close vigil over the otter. “Or do you want to just hang here?” I offer up, knowing he may well want a minute alone to process and recharge his battery.
He takes a moment before slowly nodding. “I want to come watch you work,” he finally says in an airy breath. I briefly take note of the pension clashing with serenity in his green eyes before he leans in, placing a firm kiss on my lips, letting it linger for several moments before we exit the truck.
Wolf
“I’m driving,”Molly insists - or rather tries to insist, once again trying to wedge her little frame between that of mine and the truck’s driver side.
“Molly, for fucks sake,” I grumble out though my heart sits at ease; content and secure in my chest. The satisfaction that there’s one of nature’s beings recuperating comfortably in a crate in the back seat of the truck has done it good.
My wife is a whiz at suturing and putting scared animals at ease - including her husband. Seeing her do it in the field, at the edge of a creek in the wilderness, wearing our family emblem is an added bonus, not to mention a potent turn-on.
“I’m good, you saw for yourself,” I argue with the little spitfire as she keeps trying to fight me off away from the door as I just stand here, amused at her futile efforts. It’s like a mouse trying to move a boulder.
“That was the middle of the night and your stubborn ass was in protective mode,” she reasons, still trying to get me to move out of the way. Sweet and tender Molly is gone as the land takes on a light blue hue, signaling the impending daybreak. Hangry Molly is here, regardless if she’d even be awake yet under normal circumstances. All her body knows is that she’s been up for almost two hours and is demanding sustenance. “Now that the job is done and it’s getting light out, it could be completely different, now get out of the way!” She shoves at me and dares to put her boot on the running board.
“Fine.” The word gusts out on an exasperated sigh as I finally turn away from the vehicle and circle around as she hoists herself behind the steering wheel once again.
