Page 33 of Lone Wolf in Lights
He looked away, finding solace in the simple sight of Ranger, standing patiently next to him.
As she walked away, he pulled the saddle off, her words echoing around him:her warm, sunny soul...it fixes everything, Eli...
Willow felt lit up all day after the ride, the hot tub, just all of it. She woke up with a grin that stayed plastered on her face all day long. It lingered through her weekly FaceTime call with her parents, where they caught up and chatted for a while. Despite texting or talking on the phone daily, they still made it a point to see each other’s faces at least once a week. The smile continued through the busy lunch rush as well. She kept thinking about Eli, and she began to wonder why she’d been so eager to shut him down all those months ago. What would have happened if she hadn’t?
Maybe she shouldn’t have been so scared and had given him a shot...
Nearing three o’clock in the afternoon, Willow moved around the long table with chairs, setting out the craft supplies, as all the ladies sat around the table, sipping their wine, save for Amie, who hadn’t arrived yet. The air hummed with the promise of the approaching Christmas market, and Charly and Aubrey were both beginning to decorate the bar for the festive season. She felt its excitement thrumming through her veins. She spread out spools of crimson ribbon and clusters of pine cones, envisioning the wreaths that would soon adorn the town’s doors.
“Willow, where do you want these?” Aubrey called out, her voice bright like the twinkling lights she dangled from her fingertips.
A couple of hours had passed since she left the bar, looking tense and on edge. But as she returned, Willow noticed that Aubrey seemed to be back to her normal self. Willow decided not to bring it up and give her some space. Aubrey had been acting strange lately, but Willow knew that when she was ready, she would open up and talk about whatever was going on with her.
“Along the windows,” Willow responded, pointing toward the pane that framed the wintry world outside.
As the final preparations for another craft group neared completion, the front door creaked open and Betty entered. Widowed yet undeterred by life’s trials, Betty brought with her an aura of sweet resilience. Willow would never forget her kindness when she’d first moved to town. Betty wrapped Willow in her love from day one.
“Good afternoon, my dear,” Betty greeted.
“Betty, I’m so glad you’re here.” Willow met her with an embrace.
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Betty replied, her eyes twinkling beneath the soft creases of her lids. “Now, let me help you get ready.” She gestured toward the table and began placing out the fake berries and sprigs of holly in the center of the table for the wreath making.
Willow took in the moment. The Naked Moose had never looked more inviting, bathed in the golden glow of twinkling lights, but it was the thought of Eli’s arrival that had her barely able to stand still. Every time the door swung open on its hinges, she couldn’t help but glance up, hoping it would be him.
Maybe that was a problem. Maybe it wasn’t. She was trying to not overthink things and simply enjoy the ease of life lately.
“Need these?” Charly asked from behind her.
Willow spun around, saw the bundle of cinnamon sticks and nodded. “Thanks,” she murmured, accepting them. “These will be perfect.”
“Anytime,” Charly replied, before returning to behind the bar.
She wasn’t only waiting on Eli for his company. He was bringing in a box of donated craft items from Wolf Springs, but she had enough to get the group started this afternoon.
The door swung wide again, though this time, it crashed open. Amie staggered through, her face a canvas of anguish, tears carving rivers through her makeup.
“Willow,” she choked out, the name half drowned in her sobs.
Willow rushed forward, swiftly closing the distance between them, taking Amie by the arms. “What’s happened?”
“His sister.” Amie gasped between breaths, the words laced with betrayal. “Buck’s sister...she’s the one. The comment...the text.” She clung to Willow. “I’m so sorry. It was all because of me.” A sob broke from her throat.
A cold fury ignited within Willow. But she quelled it, as she fought against the fear rising up, drawing instead on a reservoir of strength she’d built brick by painstaking brick since the night Niko had shattered her world.
“How do you know it was her?” Willow asked gently, helping guide Amie into a seat.
“Because the detective that worked my case came to tell me, so I could put a restraining order on her,” Amie said, her voice hiccupping. “He wanted to make sure I was safe.”
“That’s good,” Willow said, kneeling, taking Amie’s hands. “None of this is on you. You are not to blame for someone else being horrible.”
Amie’s shoulders shook as she clung to Willow, her breaths coming in short bursts. “They’re awful people. I should have connected it. They’ve written so many bad things about me, but I never thought they’d stoop this low.”
“Of course you wouldn’t,” Willow said. “You’re a good person. Such an idea wouldn’t even come to you.” She squeezed Amie’s hands. “Please don’t feel bad about this. I’m just glad we know who’s behind this, and the police can stop them. Okay?”
There was a nod, a subtle acknowledgment that the words were seeping through the cracks of Amie’s guilt.
“Willow’s right, honey,” came Betty’s seasoned voice, warm as a woolen blanket freshly pulled from the dryer. Her wrinkled hands, so skilled in knitting comfort from mere strands of yarn, reached out to touch Amie’s arm with a grandmotherly kindness.
