Page 21 of Wolf's Whisper

I momentarily stare at the now-silent phone, her words lingering in my ears. "As soon as you need me." It’s ridiculous how those six words make my chest feel like it’s both expanding and tightening at the same time.

Chapter Twelve

Wolf

The sound of my phone clicking off feels louder in the quiet of my room at the clubhouse. I stare at it momentarily,her voice still echoing in my head. It's been a while since I let someone in like that—since I wanted to. Janelle has this way of making the walls I've spent years building feel more like paper than steel.

I glance over at the clock on the wall. Midnight. I should be asleep, but I’m sitting in the middle of my bed, absentmindedly flipping a knife in my hand. It’s an old habit that calms me when my brain refuses to shut up. Right now? It’s going a mile a minute.

“She makes you soft, Wolf,” I mutter, shaking my head at myself. But even as I say it, the words have no malice. If anything, there’s a strange comfort in knowing someone like her exists—someone who sees through all my rough edges and still chooses to stick around. Not out of obligation or pity but because she wants to.

The door creaks open, and Tank pops his head in. His leather vest is half-off, and he’s holding a beer in one hand like it’s an extension of him. “You talking to yourself again?” he drawls, smirking like the smartass he is.

“Get lost,” I say without any real heat, flipping the knife once more before catching it by the handle.

“Trouble sleeping?” He steps inside anyway, plopping down on the edge of my bed uninvited.

“Nope,” I lie, twirling the knife again.

He eyes me momentarily, his smirk fading into something more genuine. “You’ve been different lately.”

“Thanks for noticing,” I deadpan, not looking at him.

“I’m serious.” He tips his beer back and takes a long swig before continuing. “You’re not as much of a hardass. You smile more. I even laughed the other day. Thought maybe the world was ending, but nah, it’s just you.”

I roll my eyes, but his words hit closer to home than I care to admit. “Maybe I’ve got a secret stash of dad jokes I’ve been practicing,” I shoot back.

He raises an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. “Yeah, right. Is this about that woman? Janelle?”

The mention of her name sends a jolt through me, and I hate how easy it is for him to read my reaction. “What about her?” I ask, trying to sound casual but probably failing miserably.

“She’s got you all twisted up,” he says with a lazy grin like he's enjoying every second of this. “You don’t talk about anyone the way you talk about her. Hell, you barely talk about anyone at all.”

I glare at him, but he just keeps grinning like the smug bastard he is. “I talk plenty.”

“Sure,” he agrees sarcastically. “About work, bounties, and how much you hate pineapple on pizza. But this? This is different.”

I let out a long sigh, flipping the knife one last time before setting it down on the nightstand. “She’s been through a lot,” I say quietly, my voice softer than intended. “And she’s still standing. That’s something.”

Tank nods, surprising me by not making another snarky comment. “Sounds like someone worth sticking around for.”

“She’s got kids,” I blurt out, like that explains everything.

“So?” he asks, shrugging. “You like kids?”

“Not really,” I admit with a half-smile. “But hers... they’re a part of her. And I think I could get used to them.”

Tank whistles low, leaning back against the wall with an exaggerated look of shock. “Look at you, Wolf. Thinking about playing stepmom already.”

“Shut up,” I can feel heat creeping up my neck, and the last thing I need is him seeing me blush like some lovesick teenager.

But Tank doesn’t let up. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his beer dangling from his fingers. “You like her.”

“Of course, I like her,” I snap, maybe too quickly. “She’s smart, strong, and she doesn’t take crap from anyone. What’s not to like?”

“No, no.” He shakes his head, pointing at me with the neck of his beer bottle. “You like her.”

"Are we back in junior high, Tank?" I try to sound annoyed.

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