Page 46 of Lone Wolf in Lights
Aubrey grinned. “Can’t. I already bought it.”
Willow smiled, but then focused back on all the crafts spread out on the four tables pushed together. They had pulled out all the crafts they’d done so far to get an overall look at them, determine pricing and form a plan for the market.
“Did I ever tell you about the first tree I decorated after leaving him?” Joanne asked the group, a hint of nostalgia in her laugh. “My kids and I hung up spoons and forks because it was all I had. But it was mine, you know?”
Amie said, “I bet that is one of the best memories for your kids too.”
“It was,” Joanne said, agreeing with a nod. “It truly was a wonderful Christmas.”
Charly grumbled something incoherent, drawing Willow’s attention. She was adding price tags to the wreaths. “Legit you’re all very good at crafting. I can’t even tie on these price tags properly.”
Laughter rippled through the circle, and even Willow chuckled, the sound mingling with the clink of glasses and the soft rustle of paper.
“Who did this one?” Amie asked out, holding up a crocheted snowman.
Betty raised her hand. “That’d be mine, dear.”
“It’s so cute,” Amie said, spinning the ornament in her fingers.
Betty grinned from ear to ear. “I’ll make you one.”
“Really?” Amie said. “Thanks, Betty.”
Willow just smiled at the room bursting with love. She glanced to Charly and Aubrey, who smiled too. The first Christmas craft group had been quiet...sad.But no longer was the pain shared, or hearts bleeding—laughter filled the bar now. Friendships had formed over the passing weeks. And Willow knew that was the best thing that could have come from Empowerment Elves, regardless of the money they made for the shelter.
“I’m really going to miss these crafting days,” Amie said.
“They don’t have to stop,” Willow said. “Seems around here there is a festival or market for everything. We’ll just change what we make.”
Betty laughed. “We do love our markets in Timber Falls. I think that’s a wonderful idea, Willow. I have so many knitted items we could sell too.”
Before Willow could answer, the bar’s door crashed open.
Willow’s gaze snapped toward the entrance, spotting a thirtysomething man with tousled black hair. He had a long, dark unkempt beard and his jeans and black T-shirt were covered in dirt. His nearly black eyes, predatory and unforgiving, scanned the room until they fixed on Amie, who sat frozen, a half-finished angel clutched in her trembling hands.
“Buck,” she breathed.
The temperature seemed to plummet, and Willow felt a chill snake its way down her spine.
“Hi, Buck,” Charly called in a light voice, taking a step forward. “This is a closed event. You should—”
“Shut it,” Buck spat. His boots thudded heavily against the wooden floor as he entered further.
Silence descended. Willow glanced at the ladies around the table. They all froze in their seats, their eyes wide with alarm, silent signals passing between them—a sisterhood united in fear that understood this moment meantdanger.
Buck’s rage was a palpable force that seemed to suck the air from the room. “You think you can hide her from me?” he roared, his voice slicing through the silence.
Willow forced her voice not to betray the fear raging in her. “Amie doesn’t want to see you. You need to leave, or we’ll call the police.”
“Who the hell do you think you are?” he bellowed, stepping into her space, his breath hot with the stench of whiskey and anger. “I’ll wreck this whole damn place if I have to!”
That scent had Willow spiraling to another man...another time...pain...
“Please, Buck,” Amie’s voice was a frail whisper. “Don’t do this.”
“Don’t you say a fucking word, you stupid bitch.” Buck turned on her, his heavy hand flying up and crashing down across her face. The impact sent Amie sprawling to the ground, her chair clattering beside her.
Gasps filled the room, and Aubrey yelled, “Leave. Now.”
