Page 44 of Cursed Wolf

Emmaline

Ileft my phone at home on my next day off so that I wouldn’t be tempted to check it, or worse, try calling Tryn for a third time. My persistent ache for him was stronger than my pride, although I successfully did not check my phone at all during my shift last night. It stayed buried at the bottom of my purse where it belonged.

When I got home, I took the phone out—without looking at the screen—and stashed it in my sock drawer, hoping all the fabric would muffle any vibrations enough for me to not hear.

Not that I expected him to call me, anyway. But stupidly, I still hoped.

I went about my errands as normally as I could; grocery shopping, dropping bills off at the post office, and spending a few hours with my laptop in a coffee shop applying to more vet residencies.

At least I was at a more reasonable level of horny after that full moon night. I knew the moon cycles didn’t really affect hormone levels, but it was easier to blame my insane sex drive that night on temporary lunacy than the real reason.

The reason being I still wanted and craved the man who swept me off my feet, only to leave me in the middle of the night like a booty call. And then completely ghosted me afterwards.

The last person I expected to see waiting at my doorstep when I got home was that very same man.

I never actually reached the doorstep. From several yards away, I saw Tryn sitting there in a contemplative pose, forearms on his knees and fingers laced, staring at his hands. I had stopped short, grocery bags in hand, and couldn’t believe what I was seeing.

A few seconds passed before he looked up. I didn’t know if he heard me or just sensed me there, but for once, he didn’t smile as he stood and approached me.

“Hey,” he said softly, holding out his hand. “Let me take those for you.”

My brain stuttered back to life at the low, warm timbre of his voice. What I wanted to do was press my cheek to the center of his chest and listen to the lazy rumble of his voice throughout my whole body. Instead, I stuck my arms out to thrust the grocery bags at him.

If he ditched and ghosted me, the least he could do was carry my heavy stuff.

Tryn took the bags without a word and followed me to my front door, which I unlocked and left wide open for him to follow me inside. He set the bags on the counter, then stood awkwardly as I started unloading. He was the one who showed up, so he could do the talking.

“I, uh.” He scratched his beard, watching me. “I tried to call.”

“You did?” I paused, trying to tamp down the elation soaring in my chest. “When?”

“Early this morning. And then an hour ago. Sorry to just show up unannounced, but I got worried.”

I put down the coffee creamer I’d been holding and turned to face him. “I’ve been busy with work and haven’t kept track of my phone. I must have left it here when I went out.” It wasn’t a total lie, plus I wanted to save a little bit of my pride. No way was I going to admit I’d been glued to my phone, waiting to hear from him, if I hadn’t stashed it away.

“Okay,” Tryn said uneasily.

The tension in his body, his nervous glances, everything screamed that he knew he’d done something wrong. He looked guilty.

“I called you, though.”

“I know. I’m sorry I didn’t return them sooner.”

“Couldn’t let the wife hear you, huh?”

The barb lashed out of my mouth without thought, but fuck it. I was tired of people thinking I was meek and could be so easily pushed around. My parents tried. Dr. Marcus and Dr. Stone tried. Tryn would not be the one to pull the wool over my eyes.

He rocked back like I’d slapped him, dark eyes narrowing. “What?”

“Your wife.” Now that my suspicion was out there, I might as well go all in. “Or your live-in girlfriend, boyfriend, whoever you’re hiding.”

“I don’t have a wife.” Tryn ground his molars on the word. “There’s no one but you, Emmaline. I told you I wasn’t seeing anyone else.”

“Really?” A sarcastic laugh burst out of my mouth. “You expect me to believe that? When you’re so clearly hiding something?”

He sighed heavily, pinching his nose bridge like he was trying to take the edge off a migraine. “You’re right,” he said, looking at me intently again. “I haven’t been honest with you about everything. I came here to apologize and come clean. But the one thing I’ve never lied about is how I feel for you.”

I wanted to believe him. That invisible thread in my chest ached like it was trying to pull me toward him, into his arms and against that thick, warm chest. But still, I hesitated. He would not take me for a fool.

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