Page 51 of Lone Wolf in Lights
Fifteen
Perched on the weathered Adirondack chair on his porch, Eli’s hand tightened around the neck of the whiskey bottle as he downed another long sip. The sky, black but with twinkling stars, offered him no peace tonight. An icy breeze whispered through the towering pines that bordered his property, carrying with it the faintest scent of pine and earth. He squinted into the darkness of the night. The sharp bite of winter couldn’t numb the frustration deep in his gut.
Suddenly, the darkness was interrupted by a pair of headlights, carving a path toward him. Eli knew those headlights—Jaxon, and he assumed probably Gunner too.
The truck stopped next to the house. Jaxon emerged, and then Gunner, with his guitar case strapped over his shoulder onto his back.
“Man, it’s colder than a witch’s tit out here,” Gunner quipped, rubbing his hands together for warmth as he walked up the porch steps.
“Needed some air,” Eli muttered.
“Air’s one thing,” Jaxon said, eyes scanning Eli’s face, “drowning in whiskey is another.”
Gunner nodded solemnly, taking a seat next to Eli, while Jaxon leaned against the railing. “Heard from a friend on the force that Buck’s in jail. A handful of charges, and probably more by the end of it, should get him put away for a while.”
“Good riddance,” Eli growled, the words tasting like bile. The mere mention of Buck’s name stoked the embers of anger still smoldering within him. “Too bad it won’t be for the rest of his fucking life.”
Jaxon agreed with a nod. “Ready to talk about any charges you’re facing?”
Eli shifted in his seat, the worn wood of the porch creaking under his weight. He took a deep swig from the bottle, letting the burn slide down his throat, desperate to wash away this fucking day. “I’m not facing any charges.”
“Then why do you look so damn miserable?” Gunner asked, taking the bottle from Eli to have a sip.
“I can’t shake all the fucking things I should have done different,” Eli admitted to the two men who had gotten him through the hardest parts of his life.
The porch light cast half of Jaxon’s face in shadow, the other half illuminated by the soft glow from the window next to him. “What else could you have truly done, Eli?” he said softly. “You stood up for what’s right.”
“Did I?” Eli scoffed, the taste of the word more bitter than the whiskey. “I let my anger dictate my actions. That ain’t right, Jax. That’s losing control.”
“You’re being too damn hard on yourself.” Jaxon’s voice carried a commanding yet gentle edge. “If Buck had laid hands on Charly like he did Willow, I would’ve come unglued. Hell, I’d have done worse. You were protecting someone you care about. That’s not losing control—that’s being human.”
Eli dropped his head back against the house, staring off into the darkness. The reassurance from Jaxon should have brought comfort, yet it did not. Eli was drowning in a thousand should-haves. He accepted the bottle back from Gunner, and the weight was familiar, almost comforting, but tonight it was a mocking reminder of weakness.
His hand trembled slightly as he brought the bottle to his lips again, the burn rushing down his throat. “When I saw Buck standing over her, I didn’t even think. It was like my head just shut off.” He choked a humorless laugh, raking a hand through his hair. “If the cops hadn’t shown up when they did, I don’t want to imagine what I might’ve done. What I was capable of in that blind rage.”
“Nobody would’ve blamed you,” Gunner said softly, his voice laced with compassion.
“Maybe not,” Eli admitted, his eyes cast downward. “But what if next time, there’s no one there to stop me?”
“You would have come back to yourself,” Jaxon interjected, his voice firm and unwavering. “I know it.”
Eli lifted his head to meet Jaxon’s reassuring gaze. The three of them had been friends since childhood, bonded by a shared love of adventure and a fierce loyalty to each other. Even now, as they sat on his porch, the wind howling around them, Jaxon and Gunner’s steady presence gave Eli a sense of peace. He knew he was lucky to have friends who had stuck by him through thick and thin.
But Eli couldn’t shake the feeling of fear and doubt that gnawed at him. He had been so close to the edge with Buck, and he wasn’t sure if he could trust himself that his rage wouldn’t take over if anyone ever threatened any women—especially Willow—in front of him again.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath for a long moment before glancing to his friends again and admitting truths he never spoke of. “Every time I close my eyes, I see Miranda’s face. I seehimstanding over her, and it’s like—I’m right there all over again. Powerless.”
Gunner leaned in, elbows on knees, his gaze steady. “But you’re not powerless now, Eli. You have choices.”
“Choices?” Eli scoffed bitterly. “Yeah, I made a choice all right. I chose to fight Buck.” He scrubbed a hand over the scruff on his face. “What happened tonight...” he muttered, “I became a man who can’t keep his demons leashed.”
Jaxon shifted, his boots thudding softly against the snow-covered wooden planks. “You’ve been through a lot, Eli. It’s understandable.”
“Is it?” Eli countered. “Or is it just an excuse?”
Gunner began, “Eli—”
“It’s an excuse,” Eli said, cutting him off, a bitter laugh scratching its way out of his throat. “Today I was all fists and fury, ready to take out my anger over Miranda’s murder on some other asshole.”
