Page 2 of Frost Wolf

I allowed myself to melt into the episode I had seen so often that I knew it by heart. The way Dean held the wheel of the Impala always made my heart beat faster. Something about a man’s hands can make a woman lose her damn mind over them.

Thunder, followed by lightning, shook the house. The wind blew a gust of rain against the windows. The old tree planted outside stretched its thin twigs and scratched the glass. Each drop of rainwater had a song of its own, filling the darkness with stories of times past.

With my free hand, I looked for the flashlight under the pillow on the couch. This was an old house and power outages were common. I spoke a short prayer, hoping there wouldn’t be a power outage tonight. The fuses were outside in the garage and, if I had to walk all the way out there to change them, I would feel better if I had some light to shine and brighten the path.

“I watch too many serial killer documentaries.” My voice sounded foreign in the silence of the room. The show continued, and I watched Dean hunt demons and kick ass. What a man!

Closing my eyes, I imagined how it would be to meet someone like him. I wasn’t a crazy fan girl. My crush was on the character, not the actor. I was able to make the distinction.

The perspective of walking upstairs and sleeping in my bed alone was not appealing. Even though I did everything to make people believe I was a strong, independent woman, most of the time that was the case. However, at night, especially during a thunderstorm, the memories of my ex-husband made me choke on tears I was ashamed to shed during the daytime. It was okay to miss him at night and remember the good times we had, even though I hated him during the day. Darkness permitted me to crave forbidden things. My heart was softer at night, allowing the ghosts of my past to offer me consolation. Sometimes I looked at my phone in bed, hoping he would text me and ask me to talk.

A year has passed since Nick left me. I felt that familiar lump in my throat as I thought about that. Being betrayed by your best friend hurts. It leaves a gushing wound that becomes putrid under an apparently healthy surface and refuses to heal. The surface looks good, but under the thin layer of skin is a source of infection that throbs and hurts, poisoning my blood with fear, regret, and the conviction that I will never love anyone else the way I loved him.

“Fuck you, Nick,” I whispered, trying to hold back the tears that made it difficult for me to see Dean knocking out another demon.

After fifteen years of being together and twelve years of marriage, he decided I wasn’t the one. Even now, I feel like a girl in a middle-aged woman’s body.

My phone clicked, and I opened a text. The fact that it was not from Nick made me feel even more lost.

“He ain’t coming back,” I told Spike, who was sleeping, contentedly purring on my chest.

Aly, who was trying to be my friend, had texted me.

You got home okay, girl?

A smiley face was attached to the text.

Yes, Aly.

The night shift is boring without you. I need to get us back on the sameschedule.

I don’t think Gabe will allow that.

Fuck Gabe. He will. I’ll make him.

I sent her a smiley face back.

But for real now, girl. Gabe is a mofo who never got laid and who hates all women. He hates you cuz you’re right about everything, and he can’t pin any mistakes on you.”

Maybe he has issues.

You are always so nice. Stop being so nice!

Aly texted a devil emoji.

I’ll try.

Did you get on that dating app I told you about? Hinge. You can find it in your app store. The guys there just hit differently.

I rubbed my eyes at the mention of something hitting. Aly was only twenty-seven. She was ten years younger than me, still looking for the one, and decided to take me under her wing and teach me about the dating market. She couldn’t understand that Nick was the one, and that he left me. I’m sure there is a limited amount of love in one’s life. You are lucky to get one big love, and that’s it. I had my chance.

I’ll get it done next week.

We’ll get it done tomorrow. Men love a cute girl in uniform.

You are delusional. I’m not a cute girl anymore. I don’t think I’ll get lots of feedback.

Ilove Delusion. It’s my favorite country. You should visit.

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