Page 16 of Wolf Cursed
He didn’t answer right away, just continued to stare at me with disbelief and those bedroom eyes that made me want to strip naked right here and—
“Impossible,” he muttered into the silence, and then he turned and slammed his way out the front door. I watched through the window as he marched around the corner and out of sight.
What in the actual hell was that?
It took my ovaries several moments to recover from the loss of everything that would not be happening next. I’d almost talked myself into giving in and using Kai as the distraction I knew he could be. Anything to not feel the loss and emptiness inside me.
Confused and already exhausted, I gave up on finding food or Oscar or anything else. Instead, I made my way back upstairs and crawled into bed, lost and hurting—in more ways than one.
Maybe fighting with Kai wasn’t the best way to deal with grief after all.
Some time later, pain shot through me, and I came awake to a hand shaking my shoulder. I winced and shrank away from it. The hand disappeared.
My eyes cracked open, and I recognized Oscar leaning down over me. “Sorry,” he muttered. “You were out.”
He straightened and looked down at me, frowning.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, alarm zipping through me.
If he kicked me out now, I had nowhere to go. And no way to get there.
“You look like hell,” he said matter-of-factly.
“So I’ve heard.” I struggled to prop myself on my elbows.
“Here.” He dropped a paper bag onto the mattress next to me.
“What’s this?” I asked, my nose already giving it away. The smell of bacon hit me, and my stomach cramped with hunger.
“Figured you might be hungry,” he said.
And even though the words were gruff, the gesture was kind. I grabbed for the bag, undeterred by his brusqueness.
“Thank you,” I said, sitting up and pulling the brown paper open to peer inside. A wrapped breakfast sandwich and hash browns. Baby Jesus.
I reached inside and started shoving hash browns into my mouth then immediately regretted it.
“Shit, hot,” I managed around a mouthful of scorching potato.
Oscar chuckled. “Orange juice is there,” he said, pointing at where he’d set it on the nightstand.
I grabbed for the cold liquid and practically poured it down my throat. “Thanks.” My word was muffled from the mouthful of warring temperatures.
“I made some calls,” he said in a voice that had me pausing just before I could take another bite. I lowered the sandwich, heart hammering at the sad look in his eyes.
“About what?” I asked. Was he trying to get rid of me?
“Caleb—your father’s body was being held by local police until their investigation was complete. I signed off for him to be transferred to a funeral home back in Reading. They’re holding a small service this afternoon graveside. I thought you might want to know.”
Surprise then gratitude washed over me. “I appreciate that.”
“I would have brought him back here to be buried on family land, but they said his will specifically asked that he not be returned.”
“He had a will?” That was news to me.
“Apparently.”
Apparently was right. I had no idea. He must have felt very strongly about this place to make a will that stated he not be returned even in death.
