Page 23 of Wolf's Whisper

My throat goes dry, and I forget how to form words for a moment. My heart hammers in my chest, louder than the silence stretching between us. I know it's my turn to say something, but all I can manage is a weak "Yeah?"

Smooth, Wolf. Real smooth.

Janelle laughs softly, but it’s nothing but warmth, no malice. “Yeah, Onyx, I was with my husband for so long. I never knewthat I could even feel this way about someone. Let alone… another woman.” Her voice dips into something shy, almost unsure as if she’s afraid of saying too much or scaring me off, but there’s a strength in her honesty that takes my breath away.

“You’re not alone in that,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. I lean forward, bracing my elbows on my knees as if sitting up will somehow ground me. “This is new for me too… in its way.”

“Really?” she asks, sounding genuinely surprised. “You? I figured you’d have this whole thing down to an art.”

I laugh softly, shaking my head even though she can’t see me. “Hardly. I’ve had what you would call relationships, some hook-ups, sure, but this... this feels different.” I pause, searching for the right words and hoping I don’t sound like a complete fool. “With you, I want to try—not just go through the motions or keep things safe.”

She’s quiet momentarily, and I can hear her breathing on the other end of the line. It’s steady but slower now, as if she’s processing what I’ve just said.

“I get that,” she finally says, her voice soft but certain. “I feel it, too. Like I’m not just surviving anymore, you know? With you, it’s like... I can breathe again. Like maybe I deserve to be happy.”

Those words hit me harder than I expected, and I forgot how to respond for a second. We have helped so many people and families before, but the thought of being someone who could make her feel that way—like she deserves happiness—makes the walls I’ve built around myself crack a little more.

“You do deserve it,” I say firmly, leaning back against the headboard. “You and your kids. All of you deserve to feel safe and happy.”

Janelle lets out a shaky breath, and I can tell she’s trying not to get emotional. “Thank you,” she whispers.

“Don’t thank me,” I reply quickly, feeling awkward under the weight of her gratitude. “I’m just stating facts.”

She laughs softly, and the sound eases some of the tension in my chest, “Maybe when all of this is over with, and my ex-husband is no longer a threat, we can see how this thing between us works,” she finishes, her voice tinged with cautious hope. “If you’re willing to stick around for all the chaos that comes with me and my kids.”

“Janelle,” I say, my tone serious enough to make her pause. “Chaos doesn’t scare me. Hell, I live in it. And your chaos? It’s nothing compared to what I’ve seen. Besides...” I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself before I say something I can’t take back. “You and your kids aren’t chaos to me. You’re... life. Something real. Something worth fighting for.”

The silence on the other end is heavy—not uncomfortable, but thick with unspoken emotions that neither of us knows how to articulate. Finally, Janelle speaks, her voice trembling slightly. “You have no idea what that means to me.”

“I think I do,” I reply softly, letting the words hang between us.

“Onyx,” she starts, then pauses. I can hear her shifting, maybe lying down or getting more comfortable. “I don’t want to keep you up too late.”

“I called you,” I remind her with a small laugh. “So technically, this is my fault.”

She chuckles, and it’s a sound I wish I could bottle up and keep with me forever. “Fair point. But seriously, you’ve got your stuff to deal with. You don’t need to lose sleep over me.”

“Janelle,” I say, surprised by how steady my voice sounds. “If talking to you keeps me awake, I’ll gladly trade sleep for this.”

“You know,” she says, her tone lighter now, “I never thought I’d find myself having late-night heart-to-hearts with a biker named Wolf.”

I chuckle at that, shaking my head. “Yeah, well, I never thought I’d be spilling my feelings to a woman who once threw a pot of spaghetti at her ex-husband’s head. Life’s funny like that.”

Janelle laughs, the kind of laugh that starts soft but builds like she can’t help herself. “Hey, for the record, he deserved it.”

“Oh, I have no doubt,” I say quickly, grinning. “Honestly, I respect the hell out of it. Spaghetti as a weapon? That takes creativity.”

“It was all I had at the moment,” she says, her voice still warm with laughter. “I wasn’t exactly in a position to be picky.”

“Well, remind me never to piss you off when there’s pasta in the vicinity,” I tease.

She snorts—a full-on snort—and I swear it’s the most adorable sound I’ve ever heard. “Noted,” she says. “But don’t worry. You’re safe... for now.”

“Good to know,” I say lightly, but my voice softens as I continue, “because I’d hate to lose my chance with you over a poorly timed pasta mishap.”

There’s a pause on her end, and I can almost hear her smiling through the phone. “Your chance, huh?” she asks, her voice teasing but gentle.

“Yeah,” I admit, feeling more vulnerable than I have in years. “My chance to see where this could go. My chance to be the kind of person you and your kids deserve.”

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