Page 13 of Wolf's Whisper

I wander back to my bedroom and sit on the edge of the bed where I had been lost in my world moments ago, a world where fantasies didn’t seem so impossible. My cheeks heat up as I remember Onyx walking in on me. God, how embarrassing! But then, her revelation added another layer to my already complicated feelings.

I sigh and look around at the quiet room. My kids are safe, the house is peaceful, and there's space to think. But all I can do is replay our conversation over and over. Did I handle it right? Could I have done something differently?

The word 'gay' hung between us like a delicate, unspoken, yet powerful challenge waiting to be accepted. Not that it bothers me—no, not at all, but I worry about the implications for Onyx and us. What does this mean going forward? Do her feelings mirror mine, or is she just being protective? Will this affect her position in the club she’s with?

I stand up and pace around the room, trying to clear my head. This isn't just about me anymore. There's Abel, Dillion, and Chloe to consider. They adore Onyx—her visits are the highlights of their week. And now, knowing she's gay does it change anything? No, it shouldn't. She's still Onyx, who stood up for us when we felt alone and vulnerable.

But a voice inside me whispers of possibilities that excite and terrify me. It's scary to think about wanting more, to imagine a life intertwined with someone who has become my rock. My heart races as I feel about the idea of us together, and I quickly shake my head, trying to dispel these thoughts.

"Focus, Janelle," I mutter to myself. "You've got kids to think about, a life to rebuild. You can't get distracted by whatever this is."

Yet, as I try to dismiss these feelings, a small, insistent part of me won't let go. The part that recalls Onyx’s gentle concern every time we talk is how her presence makes me feel safe yet unsettled in an entirely new way.

As the evening draws in, my mind continues to churn with thoughts of Onyx—of Wolf. I should be making dinner, focusing on homework with the kids, and doing any of the few tasks requiring my attention. Instead, I find myself leaning against the kitchen counter, staring blankly at the pasta pot boiling over.

"Mom?" Abel's voice cuts through my fog. "You okay? You look like you're on another planet."

I snap back to reality, turning down the heat under the pot. "Yeah, sorry, sweetheart. Just got a lot on my mind."

He looks at me with those wise-beyond-his-years eyes. "Is it Onyx? Did something happen?"

My heart skips a beat. Even my twelve-year-old notices how much she means to us. "No, nothing bad," I assured him quickly, not wanting to worry him or his siblings. "Just grown-up stuff."

Dillion comes bounding into the kitchen, his energy contrasting sharply to the heavy atmosphere. "Can we have extra cheese on the pasta tonight?" he chirps, his innocent eyes full of hope.

I manage a smile, grateful for the distraction. "Extra cheese it is," I say, ruffling his hair. Moments like these, the simple ones filled with childlike requests, anchor me back to my reality.

Chloe, the youngest and always curious, tugs at my pants leg. "Is Onyx going to come play with us again?" she asks with that sweet lisp that always melts my heart.

I kneel to her level, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "I hope so, honey. She likes spending time with you guys a lot," Iassure her, and the sparkle in her eyes tells me how much that means to her.

The rest of the evening passes in a whirlwind of family activities—homework, dinner, and bedtime stories. But through it all, my mind keeps racing back to Onyx. The feel of her presence lingers like a comforting and confusing shadow.

Later, when the kids finally sleep, I cannot follow suit. I go and lay in bed with my e-reader. I try to lose myself in a digital page-turner, but the words blur together, meaningless. My thoughts keep drifting back to Onyx—her strength, her vulnerability, the way her eyes seemed to search mine for understanding when she told me she was gay. Once straightforward, the layers of our relationship now feel intertwined with new, unspoken questions.

I think about Onyx's life with the Wild Jester's MC, her complicated background, and all she carries on her broad shoulders. It's no wonder she's so protective, so fiercely independent. And yet, beneath all that toughness, there's a tenderness she rarely shows, a vulnerability she’s only hinted at with me.

My thoughts circle back to her revelation today, and I can't help but feel a mix of admiration and concern. How difficult it must be to navigate her world with such secrets. It makes me want to protect her and be someone she can rely on.

I am thinking about tomorrow and about seeing Onyx again. Will our interaction be awkward, or will we slip back into our easy camaraderie? I wonder if she feels this turmoil, this seismic shift in our relationship that seems inevitable now.

Lifting my phone, I hesitate. Part of me wants to call her, hear her voice, and reassure myself that everything is okay between us. But it’s late, and I don’t want to overstep. She needs space just as much as I do to process everything we discussed. I set the phone back down, sighing deeply. The silence of the nightfeels heavy, loaded with unanswered questions and burgeoning feelings.

Maybe it’s just the quiet that makes everything seem more intense. With the chaos of life buzzing around us in the daylight, these emotions might feel more controllable. But here, in the stillness of the night, they expand, filling every corner of my mind.

I flip through my e-reader again, trying to focus on the fictional drama unfolding on the screen rather than the real one in my life. But it’s no use. My heart isn’t in it; my thoughts are with Onyx—her laugh, her intense blue eyes, the way she holds herself like she’s ready to take on the world. I finally set the e-reader aside and turned off the bedside lamp, leaving the room in darkness. The shadows seem to echo my restlessness, and as I lie back, I can’t help but wonder about the paths not taken, the words not said.

Chapter Ten

Wolf

The morning's light spills into my room, messy with the spill of half-unpacked bounty hunting gear and last night'stakeout remnants. I blink against the glare, my thoughts sluggish from a night spent tossing and turning. Janelle. Her name hammers in my head like a bikers' rally revving up at dawn.

I roll out of bed, feeling every bit of my thirty-six years and then some, padding to the kitchen to brew some strong coffee—black, no sugar, just how I like it to kick start a sluggish morning.

My phone buzzes on the kitchen counter as if on cue with my thoughts. Razor, one of my club brothers, wants an update on a lead we've been following. But even his usual gruff humor can't fully capture my attention today.

After I give him a quick rundown, he asks, "Is everything okay, Wolf?"

---