Page 50 of Lone Wolf in Lights
“Thank you,” Willow said, grateful.
As Detective Nelson walked away, Willow closed her eyes briefly, searching for strength in the very depths of her soul.
A hand suddenly slid over Willow’s arm, bringing much needed warmth. She opened her eyes to find Charly and then Aubrey there. They both wrapped their arms around her tight. With each inhale, Willow drew in a little more strength; with each exhale, she released a fraction of her fear.
When she backed away, her vision blurred as tears spilled over. The crafts had been more than mere decorations; they were symbols of the sanctuary she had striven to build within these walls. Each piece represented a promise of happiness, a whisper of hope in the darkness, now broken and scattered.
“I wanted this place to be safe for everyone,” Willow choked out. “I wanted...”
“Shh, it’s still safe because of you,” Aubrey soothed, squeezing her shoulder. “This...this is just stuff. We can clean it up, and we can fix this.”
“How?” Willow asked. “We don’t have time to make all new crafts before the market. We don’t have the supplies.”
“Not everything is gone,” Charly said. “There’s a few items and we can make more with what’s left.”
Willow glanced at all the garbage bags and knew the truth. There wouldn’t be enough for a substantial donation to the shelter. She felt the air grow thick, cloying, as if the very essence of the bar were tainted now.
“What do you need?” Charly asked gently.
“I just want to go home,” Willow admitted.
“Then let’s close up and go,” Aubrey said decisively. “Nothing’s keeping us here tonight. This place will still stand tomorrow, and we’ll put it right again.”
Willow rose, just as Amie said, obviously having watched their exchange, “I’ll go home too.”
“No, you’ll come with us,” Willow said firmly. She gingerly wrapped an arm around Amie’s shoulders, pulling her close. “You need friends right now. Not an empty home.”
“Willow, I—” Amie began.
“No arguing,” Willow said firmly, leaving no room for argument. “Friends look out for each other.”
“Okay.” Amie smiled, teary-eyed.
It took no time to lock up the bar. The air outside felt cool against Willow’s skin as they stepped outside. Though the moment she looked right, she froze, spotting Eli walking down the street.
“Willow?” his voice was rough, tinged with concern and something darker, something that made her heart constrict.
“Just give me a minute,” she said to the others.
They nodded, heading for the car at the curb when she approached him. None of the rage she’d seen glimpsed in his stormy eyes remained. It was gone now, replaced by a clear regret.
“They didn’t press charges?” she asked. She saw the cuts on his knuckles, the mark on his cheekbone.
He shook his head, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Not yet, no. I’m free to go home.”
She didn’t know the words—didn’thavethe words but forced her voice not to fail her. “Thank you, for...for what you did for me,” she managed, her words halting. “But Eli, I...”
“Don’t,” he interjected, his gaze dropping. “Don’t say anything yet.”
Silence stretched between them, a chasm filled with questions and fears too large to voice. In the quiet, Willow could hear her own heart, confused and tired of something always going wrong...so very tired.
“Go home, Willow,” Eli said softly, lifting his gaze to hers. “I’ll give you space, as much as you need. Come talk to me when you’re ready.”
Her lips parted but shut again, as Eli turned, heading for his truck, and Willow’s resolve wavered. She wanted to reach out, to bridge the distance, yet confusion, and her bleeding heart, held her rooted to the spot.
“Come on, let’s get you home,” Charly urged gently, guiding her toward the waiting car.
As Aubrey drove away, Willow’s gaze remained fixed on Eli, until his truck faded away, and all she felt was...tired.
