Page 31 of A Wolf in the Garden

I hate that she’s been so isolated through all of this. I reach out, taking her hand, and she gives me a sad smile as she continues.

“I lived in a camper van on my land and worked on the garden while waiting for the tiny house to be sorted — it wasn’t new, but it took a few weeks to organise delivery to the island, and then it needed renovating. I was too busy, too stressed about my ears and what that meant, and time sort of flew by… The design firm I was at was letting me work from home after my move to the island, so next thing I knew it had been over six months and I hadn’t really been in touch with any of my friends from the mainland. Most of them I’d met at university after I moved down from Northland, and we were already beginning to drift apart anyway.”

“The Unravelling was just the nail in the coffin?”

“Yeah. You know what it’s like when you start working, and everyone is suddenly too busy to catch up. Once you’re not in classes together or seeing each other regularly around campus, it’s easy for half a year to pass by. At least, it was for me. I did a lot of overtime at the firm I started with — I wanted to progress quickly.”

“It sounds like you did, with your credentials.”

She shrugs. “It came at a price. And I guess, maybe there’s a bit of jealousy there, when it comes to not seeing my old friends often. They’re at different stages in their lives. Happily married. One of them has a baby. Not that I want kidsyet, but it’s that whole ‘seeing everyone else get their fairytale endings and all you’ve been doing is kissing frogs for almost a decade’thing. I know that makes me sound like a shitty person.”

I shake my head, frowning at her. “It makes youaperson, with feelings. I’m not going to judge you for it, but now I have to ask — am I on your list of frogs?”

She rolls her eyes, her fingers momentarily tightening around mine. “No, Evander, you’re definitely not a frog in this story. Anyway,” she moves on, preventing me from asking anything further. “Ididhave another, wider group of friends, but I’d met them through my ex.” She winces, and I have to force myself to keep my expression neutral. I’d stalked her social media once, in a weak moment some years ago, and had seen pictures of what I assume is the man she’s talking about. Of course she had a life and relationships in the last nine years. I’m fine with it.

We’re not, my wolves snarl, and it’s hard not to agree with them.

Ellie continues. “When we split it just got awkward, since they were all his friends first. So, yes I have a few friends my age, but I’ve thrown myself into work so much that I barely ever bother to make the trip back to the mainland to see them, and I feel really guilty about that.”

I understand the guilt that comes from not keeping in contact with someone all too well, and now that Ellie is here in front of me, I feel a fresh wave of gut-churning shame over the past nine years.You have to explain it to her soon, I think to myself.She needs to know why you couldn’t reach out to her.

But now is not the time. Ellie is quiet now, her shoulders slumping, mouthfuls of food growing smaller and smaller until she’s barely picking at it.

“Are you okay?”

“Not really,” she replies with a weak laugh, and my stomach flips.

“You’re not… regretting anything, are you?”

Her big brown eyes grow wide as she sits up straight, making direct eye contact for the first time in a while. “No! No, I… I could never regret anything with you, Van,” she adds, her cheeks growing pink. “My nerves are shot from all this fae business, that’s all.”

“You feel frazzled.”

“Yes. You know that feeling, after the adrenaline runs out, and you just feel ridiculously weak? That’s me right now.”

She yawns, and I stand, picking her up off the stool and cradling her in my arms. She acquiesces without complaint, melting against my chest as I carry her to my bedroom. “I do have a guest bedroom,” I tell her, “but I’d feel better if I can be near you tonight.”

She hums, eyes blinking slowly, the tension running out of her as the events of the day catch up, despite the fact that it’s not yet six in the evening. “It’s okay. I want to be near you too. As idiotic as that is.”

“Why is that idiotic?” I fold back sheets and blankets, and deposit her in the centre of my bed. The shirt she’s wearing rides up, revealing the curve of her hip on one side and a glimpse of her inner thighs, but I resist the urge to reach out and touch her there. She’s far too exhausted for anything remotely sexual right now. Her eyes flutter closed with a sigh as she burrows into the pillow beneath her head. “Ellie?”

“Hmm?” She blinks up at me owlishly. She looks ridiculously small on the bed since it was custom-made to fit my werewolf form; both wider and longer than a California King, it dominates the room.

“Why is it idiotic that you want to be near me?” I don’t know why I’m pressing the question. I know what she’s going to say, and I know it’s going to hurt. It’s like a scab that I can’t help picking.

“Because you broke my heart,” she confirms, her voice a small murmur against her pillow as she rolls onto her side. “And you might do it again. And I shouldn’t trust you but…” She yawns again, and her eyes remain closed.

“But what?” I tuck the blankets over her, not expecting a reply.

“I want to believe in us,” she whispers, lancing my heart.

Seven

ELLIE

Idrift back to consciousness, slowly becoming aware of the comforting scent of fresh sheets and spice, the cosiness of the softest pillow under my head, and the buttery linen that wraps around my limbs. Behind me, the warm body that curls around me shifts, pulling me tighter against his chest, and I press back againsthim, not wanting to wake up, not wanting this dream of mine to end the way it always does. I want to stay in this lull of half-sleep forever, where I can pretend that Van is with me and not somewhere halfway across the world, living a life without me in it. I love these dreams, and I hate them. I hate the moment when I wake and he is gone, and my heart breaks all over again, no matter how many years fly by.

It’s the moon — just over the first quarter phase, orHuna, in themaramataka— that wakes me fully, the light streaming through the large windows, casting everything in a silver glow. I listen to the waves crashing against the shore, the sound so loud, so close, and know I’m not in my house. The body behind me shifts again, his erect cock pressing against my backside, his hand on my breast, his lips against my hair.

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