Page 34 of Lone Wolf in Lights
“Come now, let’s try something to take your mind off things.” Betty guided Amie toward the table where bundles of evergreen boughs awaited transformation. “Making something beautiful—it helps, doesn’t it? Takes a bit of the edge off.”
The other women in the room nodded, their faces etched with lines of empathy. They moved closer, not crowding, but offering silent solidarity. Some picked up the fake berries and began to weave them into the beginnings of wreaths.
“See these?” Betty held up a sprig of holly to Amie, distracting her. “They’re tough, like us. Survive the harshest winters and still manage to look beautiful.”
A small, quivering smile tugged at the corner of Amie’s mouth, and she reached out a tentative hand to accept the holly.
“Exactly,” Willow said. “We’re all a little like these holly leaves—sharp when we need to be, but full of life. Capable of growing in places no one thought possible.”
Her cell phone’s sudden ring in her apron cut through the conversation, jolting Willow. She excused herself and strode to the back, her hand steady as she answered. “Hello.”
“Hello, Willow. Detective Harris here,” came the crisp voice on the other end. “We’ve made some headway regarding those messages you reported.”
“I just heard from Amie that it was Buck’s sister,” Willow said.
“Indeed. We’ve identified Buck’s sister, Samantha, as the source. She seems convinced Amie is fabricating stories about Buck, and wants to dismantle your support group since word of Buck’s abuse is spreading through town. We had a talk, outlined the legal repercussions of her actions. I suspect she won’t bother you again.”
Relief washed over Willow in an almost physical wave. “Thank you, Detective. This means more than I can say.”
“Keeping this community safe is my job, Willow. Take care now.” With that, the line went dead, leaving Willow exhaling a breath of relief.
She tucked her phone back into her apron and returned to the bar where the fragrant pine and cheerful chatter softened the edges of her anxiety. Good. It was...over.Now they could continue forward, and the group would be a huge success.
And yet, did that mean the fake relationship had to end? The thought sank heavy into her gut and churned her belly.
Amie sat apart, a wreath barely started in her lap, her hands shaking too much to tie the delicate ribbon.
“You okay?” Willow asked gently, taking the seat next to her.
Amie’s gray eyes, usually so strong, now brimmed with unshed tears. “I just hate this—hate that my problems became your problems.”
“Listen to me, Amie,” Willow began, steeling herself for the vulnerability she was about to expose. “You’re not the cause of any of this, okay? The only person responsible is Buck’s sister.”
Amie sniffled, nodding slowly, but the guilt clearly lingered.
Willow hadn’t shared her story. Not with anyone. She never told anyone but the police what happened that night with Niko. Even Charly and Aubrey didn’t know all the details, because they’d been too hard to share, too raw. But as she stared at Amie, so broken, she knew she had to share—to show her she understood. “I do understand having to deal with other people’s rage and issues,” she said to Amie. “I remember the night that Niko changed my life forever.” She glanced down at her wreath, beginning to add some cinnamon sticks. “A night he lost himself to rage. I ended up in the ER, ten stitches holding my cheek together.”
The words hung heavy, a raw admission that felt like reopening a wound long scabbed over. The surrounding noise dimmed, the world seemingly narrowing down to just her.
Willow reached for the spool of ribbon, her fingers brushing against the soft fabric, and she forced her hand not to shake. It would never shake for Niko again. “Before that night,” she began, “Niko had been rough, sure—pushing, yelling, all sorts of emotional games—and all that was harmful in and of itself, but that night...” She swallowed hard, feeling the memories claw at her throat. “That night, he became someone I didn’t recognize. A monster.”
The glint of twinkling Christmas lights did little to warm the chill that settled over her skin as she recounted every moment of that night. “He raged for hours, his anger a living thing. I thought he was going to kill me.” She swallowed hard, her hands trembling slightly as she wrapped the ribbon around the wreath. “I thought he was going to kill me.”
“How did you get away?” Amie asked, her voice barely above a murmur.
“By feeding his ego,” Willow replied, adding some holly sprigs into the wreath, tucking them in tight. “I told him I was sorry for what I’d done for making him so mad—even if I had no idea why he was so angry—that it was all my fault for making him mad. God, it was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. But I needed to survive, to live.” She drew in a long, deep breath and then glanced at Amie. “I got him to believe that I wasn’t upset and I was hungry. It was like he couldn’t even see the blood on me—like his brain had completely forgotten what he’d just done. I’ve never seen anything like that before.” She added more berries, tucking them in. “When he left to get food, I ran. I was just soaked...covered in blood, everywhere. I remember how afraid my neighbor had been when I arrived at her door, but she was brave enough to let me in and call the cops...to help me.”
That night she saw the difference between good and evil—it had been so clear. “For a long time after that, I blamed myself for putting myself in that situation,” she continued, “but eventually, I realized all I did was love someone. And Niko turned that love ugly.” She glanced at Amie and smiled, tears in her eyes. “I wasn’t to blame for what Niko did, and you aren’t to blame for what Buck or his sister have done. That’s all on them.”
Tears dried; Amie threw her arms around Willow. “I’m so sorry you went through what you did, Willow, and you’re right, we’re not the bad people here.”
The silence in The Naked Moose was palpable as she held Amie tight. Her heart felt softer in her chest. She had peeled back the layers of her darkest night, exposing the wounds for the very first time, and with those words, came...peace.
It wasn’t until she leaned away from Amie that she noticed tears spilling over Charly’s cheeks. Aubrey stood beside her, hand clamped over her mouth, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.
She was engulfed in their arms a second later.
“Willow,” Charly breathed out, her voice quivering with emotion. “I never knew—”
