Heart So Hollow (Dire Wolves Book 1), page 29
And I need to tell him while I still can.
CHAPTER THIRTY
The Hollow Watcher
One Year Ago
After keeping my eye on Brett for a while, it becomes clear that I’m not the only admirer she has. And admirers come in all forms—including jealous ones. I’ve seen Hannah Bailey go into that house far too many times when no one is home to let her get away with it. So, one lovely spring evening, I decide to pay her a visit.
For some reason, she’s late getting home today, so I have to wait.
Typical.
I play with her cat and eat the last of her chocolate covered pretzels as I watch for her car from the sliding glass door. And when I finally see her silver SUV pull into the spot out front, I stroll back to her bedroom and settle myself against the wall next to her bed to wait…again.
Hannah’s so thrilled to be home, she bursts through the bedroom door singing some broken rendition of Dua Lipa and starts rummaging through her dresser for a change of clothes. Then she turns on the bathroom light and starts peeling off her scrubs.
I stare at her from the shadows, scrunching my face in disdain as she goes. Her body’s nice enough, but pure, unadulterated loathing makes everything look bad. At least she’s quick, pulling on a pair of black sweatpants and a yellow tank top before turning to the mirror and pulling her hair back into a high ponytail.
What I should do is cut it off...
Instead, I watch her, simultaneously shocked and impressed that she can have so little situational awareness. By the time she finishes in the bathroom, I’ve been watching her in silence for a good five minutes. But when she steps back into the bedroom and reaches for the lamp on the dresser, she’s met with the shock of her life.
When the yellowish glow floods the room and Hannah sees me standing opposite her, dressed in all black, with my hood shadowing my face, her soul all but leaves her body.
She lets out a shrill scream and flies backward into her bookshelf with a crash. Arms and legs flailing, she continues screaming, tumbling onto the floor behind the bed. All I can see are hands and feet popping up and down like goddamn puppets while she tries to scramble upright.
It takes all I have not to laugh my ass off.
But I remember why I’m here, and that’s no laughing matter.
I let Hannah flail around on the floor a bit longer, crashing into the nightstand and slamming more limbs against the bookshelf, until she’s finally able to stand and brace herself against the wall between the dresser and the bathroom door.
Seconds away from hyperventilating, she stares at me across the room and I see the exact moment in her eyes when she recognizes me.
But she’s not relieved.
“H—how’d you get in here?” her voice shakes with panic.
I can’t help but smile at her, “Didn’t you hear? I make house calls now.”
She stares at me as though she’s seen a ghost, “Why are you here?” she whispers, the utter dread in her voice giving me a deep satisfaction.
Because, bitch, I’m the ghost of Christmas fucking past and I’m here to remind you of your transgressions.
“I thought you’d be happy to see me,” I look her up and down with a smirk. “You used to love when I’d come around.”
The color drains from her face as it contorts into a nauseated grimace. And, as much as I love watching Hannah lose her mind, I don’t have all night.
“So, here’s the thing,” I sniff and adjust my stance, “Brett means a great deal to me. She’s the only person I care about in this world—other than my family, of course,” I shrug, and then settle my gaze on her like a ton of bricks, “but you already know that, don’t you? So, imagine my dismay when I find out you’ve been sneaking around trying to fuck with her in the one place on earth where she should feel safe. Do you think that made me very happy?”
She stares at me like a deer in the headlights of an oncoming semi, barreling forth to turn her into a fine pink mist.
“Answer me!” I swing my heel back and kick the nightstand with a resounding crash, knocking the lamp, books, and anything else on it to the floor.
Hannah gasps and braces her trembling body against the dresser, “No!” she croaks, trying to pacify my wrath. “No…”
I cross the room in three strides, towering over her as I lean into her pinched face, “No, it doesn’t. Because if my girl’s not happy, then I’m not happy. And you and I go way back, so you know what happens when someone makes me angry, don’t you?”
Hannah stares at my chest, refusing to look at me, lest she crumble into a wilted pile on the floor. But that’s how she’s always been; she’ll poke the bear and talk shit, but as soon as the claws come out, she runs scared like a little rabbit. Because, in the end, she’s a fucking coward.
“If I see you go near Brett or that house, I’ll bury you on that property,” I tilt my head, leering over her, “because you have a habit of coveting things that aren’t yours. You let your eyes linger too long on things they’re not supposed to, on things you can’t have…” I bend down until I’m looking at her dead in the eyes, “and it makes you do things you thought you never would.”
I stare at her for the longest time. Her eyes dart to mine and then immediately fall again, over and over, until finally she settles into a catatonic gaze on my chest. I straighten up and take a step back, confident I’ve made my point.
“You do it again, I’ll end you and then make sure everyone knows what you are,” I look her up and down with such disgust that I might as well be surveying a rotting elephant carcass, “the fucking angel of death.”
Hannah looks like she’s about to either faint or puke her guts out, and that’s my cue to head out. I turn and waltz out of the room, leaving her shaking and whimpering into her hand. But as I step through the doorway, I glance over my shoulder to say goodbye.
Like a gentleman.
“Does Hildy still not know what you did?” I snarl, “Some friend you are.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Brett
Present
“We went out into our woods over the weekend and he started teaching me how to shoot.”
Judy doesn’t miss a beat, “With what type of gun?”
I remember her telling me that her husband is a big game hunter, so she probably knows her way around some firearms, at least enough to talk about them.
I take a deep breath, feeling her zero in on my hesitation, “It was a Glock,” I reply, “the same kind...” I trail off, confident she already knows what I’m about to say.
And I’m right, she doesn’t bat an eye, “Given your past experiences, how do you feel about that?”
“He said it would probably help, that I won’t be so afraid of them if I know how to handle one myself.”
“That’s understandable,” she nods, “but I asked how you feel about it.”
Damnit. “Better than I thought I would,” I admit.
The truth is, I hated holding his gun at first, because the last time I held it I learned something both empowering and frightening about myself. And before that…
Let me put it this way, I hated holding his gun, but I loved being out in our woods, and I think that’s what changed my mind. I was standing with him, in our woods, together, while he brought me one step closer to not being afraid anymore. From the moment I set foot on that property, when I walked into the house, and then when he took me deep into those woods, I knew I belonged there.
I knew I was home.
“He offered to do it a while ago, but I wasn’t ready. But this time—I don’t know—I just knew it was time. And he was right, it’s what I needed to do.”
Judy narrows her eyes, taking a sip from her pastel purple Stanley water bottle, “How did you know?”
“After—” I pause, unsure of how to even label it, “after I got away, he asked me if I wanted to know what it feels like to be a predator. And the truth is that I did, more than anything. Because I knew there was a reason why he wasn’t afraid of anyone, and that was it. To be fearless and protect the people he loves, he had to become a predator himself.”
I appreciate that Judy is an expressive person. While so many therapists sit there, stone faced, staring at you with an air of condescension, she wears her emotions on her sleeve. It makes me feel validated even when I’m saying the most fucked up shit imaginable to her. And this time is no different.
She sounds intrigued, “That’s a pretty intense position to take.”
I let out a grunt in response, “I mean, you’ve met him...”
“I have,” Judy flashes her eyes and doesn’t even try to hide her smile, “and I understand my colleague, Mark Holloway, has had quite a field day with him. Mark said he’s found—” she hesitates with a smile, “interesting ways to deal with grief.”
That’s an understatement.
“Mark didn’t elaborate further, of course, but your boyfriend’s quite an interesting man,” she pauses in consideration, “very complex and multidimensional.”
I look down, trying to stifle a laugh, but it sneaks out anyway.
Multidimensional…
“You’re smiling,” Judy grins, “what do you think of that?”
I stare at the dish of fun-size chocolates on the coffee table. What do I think about it? After another moment, I raise my head, cheeks aching from smiling so wide.
“He’s batshit.”
●●●
“Is this—” Valerie peers at the black and white sonogram stuck to the refrigerator door, “are you pregnant?” she whispers in surprise.
I give a nod and hand her a sparkling water from the fridge, “Yeah, five months.” Depending on what I’m wearing, some people notice and some people don’t.
“God…” she groans with a laugh, “as if I don’t feel bad enough already.”
Sodapop, my cat, slinks out from under the dining table and rubs against Valerie’s leg. She glances down with a start, then relaxes and crouches down to run her fingers over his shiny black fur.
“Stop,” I roll my eyes, “everything turned out fine. I mean, except that you had to drive me all the way back here to the middle of nowhere, but everything else is totally manageable.”
It didn’t take as long as I thought it would for a tow truck to show up and haul my 4Runner to the nearest dealership. However, after waiting another hour for a diagnosis, the technician said I need a new bumper, but—shocker—they don’t have it in stock. The downside of living in a small town…
But I like Valerie, and in addition to being kind enough to cart me around all afternoon, she’s pretty fun to hang out with when she’s not admonishing herself for rear-ending a pregnant up-and-coming author in the parking lot of the local Starbucks.
A smile creeps across her face, “Boy or girl?”
I return the coy smile, “Girl.” I always enjoy when people ask because there’s no wrong answer and then I enjoy hearing everyone’s inevitable story about adorable plump babies and little hellion toddlers.
As soon as I say it, I hear a heavy click across the living room and see the heavy oak door swing open.
“Is this your boyfriend?” Valerie murmurs to me as he emerges from behind the door and I hear his heavy footsteps start across the living room.
I nod as he swings the door shut and strolls over to the island.
“Hey,” he unclips his green carabiner from his belt loop and sets his keys and phone on the granite countertop before leaning down and giving me a kiss.
As soon as he notices an extra person at the counter, he turns to Valerie and, without a word, slowly runs his fierce gaze up and down her figure as he commits her appearance to memory. Valerie looks up at him apprehensively with a tight-lipped smile. I laugh under my breath, remembering that not everyone is used to his overwhelming presence and, in kind, he doesn’t overflow with enthusiastic affability—at least not right away.
I motion to her, breaking the silence, “This is Valerie, she’s the one who gave me a ride home. Valerie, this is—”
“It’s nice to meet you!” she pipes up with a nervous smile and extends her hand, “I feel so terrible about what happened. I told Brett that I can take her back to get her car tomorrow once it’s fixed,” she continues, as though she feels the need to both justify her presence and, at the same time, not make any sudden movements, “but she told me you’re a car guy? My dad used to build engines for Honda, and then he started working independently for different racing companies.”
His eyes light up with intrigue, “Did he?” he asks, turning to me with a mischievous smile as he shakes her hand. “Is that what brought you here?”
“No,” Valerie shakes her head, “I went to school out here and just stuck around. Now I work for the hospital…”
I study her with fascination while she talks to him. She looks both enamored and unsettled, but seems to relax the more she speaks. He’s tall and can be very intimidating, I suppose. And then there are his eyes, always alert and looking like they’re burning holes straight through to your soul.
“…and since my dad retired early, he likes to get out hunting whenever he can,” Valerie explains as she gazes out the window at the dense woods across the yard.
“Oh,” he pivots his body toward me, “that reminds me, change of plans—we’re going hunting this week instead of next week.”
“The fucking hunting…” I murmur to Valerie.
“I keep telling you to come out with us,” he says wistfully as he gulps back a glass of water, “you live among some of the best whitetail hunting in the country.”
“I wouldn’t mind if you took care of that buck who’s been tearing down my garden fence and destroying the cherry trees.”
“I’ll get him,” he muses, “eventually. He’s good at hiding, but he’ll make a mistake, and then—” he points to the stone mantle with a smirk, “he’ll pay.”
I turn to Valerie, “You’re not a hunter, too, are you?”
Valerie lets out a chuckle, “No,” she shakes her head vehemently, “definitely not me.”
“Obviously, me either. My only experience with hunting was this one time I was shot with a paintball gun,” I mock, which makes him nearly spit out his water.
I glance back at Valerie, her discomfort showing for a split second before she quickly conceals it with a smile.
I turn to him and reach for his glass of water, “How long will you be gone?”
“Probably four days, like last time,” he shrugs, “I’ll work a half day tomorrow and we’ll get out there mid-afternoon.” Then he grabs the hem of his shirt and tugs it loose from his waistband, “I’m going to go change. Are you OK with T-bones for dinner? You’re not going to puke if you smell grilled meat or some shit, right?”
“No,” I sigh, pressing my lips together, “I’m not going to puke if I smell grilled meat or some shit.”
“Hey,” he turns over his shoulder to Valerie as he heads across the living room, “it was nice meeting you. And thanks again for helping Brett out with the car situation.”
“No problem!” she waves after him, “Nice meeting you too!”
I slowly lean over her shoulder as she watches him go. “Don’t let his eyes fool you,” I whisper in her ear, making her startle.
“W-what?” she turns to me, eyes wide.
I nod in his direction, “I saw the way you looked at them. Everyone does.”
Valerie quickly shakes her head, “Oh, no…I wasn’t…” she stammers, her cheeks already flushed with embarrassment.
“Don’t sweat it,” I intone, “I was tricked by them at first, too.” I rest my elbows on the granite and lean in, lowering my voice, “If he looks at you hard enough, he’ll find out all your secrets.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Brett
One Year Ago
“You’re gonna get stuck!” Jay shouts through the trees.
Hildy either doesn’t hear him or chooses to ignore him as she breaks away from the other two quads. I cling to her waist as she rumbles down the hill through the brush, praying she doesn’t hit another bump and toss me off into the ravine.
“That’s why you have a winch!” she yells as she heads straight for the creek.
I’ve never been on a four-wheeler in my life, and for some reason, Hildy decided that today she needed to change that. I’m having a blast, but I’ve noticed something about Hildy. She’s a pillar of safety in any other situation, but when she gets out in the woods with just the four of us, she catches a wild hair and there’s no telling what she’ll do. Headlines start flashing through my mind about quad accidents, head injuries, and having to be air lifted out of the woods.
I glance over my shoulder at the other two quads buzzing along the top of the ravine. Bowen is leading Jay and watches us over his shoulder until they disappear from view. I suck in a breath when I see how fast the current is as we approach the bank.
It rained for three days straight and the water level is much higher than the last time I was out here with them. Instead of clear and nearly stagnant, the creek is a muddy rush carrying broken branches downstream. I can’t even see the usual flat rocks that create a convenient path over the water. But none of this seems to concern Hildy. If anything, it makes her gun the engine harder and take aim.
Frankly, I just don’t want to die. Especially during Jay’s birthday celebration.
Hildy hits the bank, spraying muddy water onto our legs as she plows over the rocks into the water. She maneuvers over the hidden terrain, the water steadily rising until it covers the wheels and reaches our knees. I shriek as the cold water shocks my skin and starts soaking into the hem of my shorts. Suddenly, the quad lurches and one tire drops, lodging us at a crooked angle. Hildy screams as a splash of water hits us and I think we’re about to go over. But we don’t.
Instead, we’re stuck—like Jay warned—in the middle of the creek. Hildy revs the engine and rocks the quad back and forth, trying to dislodge us from whatever lies beneath. But it’s no use, she throws her head back and lets out an obscenity-laden groan. She knows what’s coming once Jay and Bowen arrive on the other side of the creek, and I surmise she’d rather stay stuck in the rushing water than hear about how he warned her not to drive through it. But I’m more worried about the current that’s much stronger than anyone realized.
