Page 30 of Wolf's Whisper

She nods vigorously and rushes back to her bed, immediately starting to sort through her stuffed companions with the seriousness of a general assembling their troops. As soon as she is done, she stands in front of me.

“Good job, munchkin.” I ruffle her hair as she beams up at me. “Now go check on your brothers and make sure they’re not packing something ridiculous like the toaster.”

She giggles and skips off down the hall, her backpack bouncing behind her. I take a deep breath, and step out into the hallway, running a hand through my hair.

Janelle’s voice pulls me out of my thoughts. “You’re really good with them, you know.”

I glance up to see her leaning against the doorway of her bedroom, arms crossed but not in a defensive way—more like she doesn't know what to do with her hands. Her eyes are soft, but there’s something else there too. Gratitude? Admiration? Maybe she’s just trying to figure out how I managed to talk Chloe out of bringing an entire zoo with us.

I shrug, trying to play it off like it’s no big deal. “Kids are easier than adults sometimes. They tell you exactly what they’re thinking. No guessing games.”

Janelle smirks slightly, pushing off the doorway. “And yet you managed to convince Chloe to leave Mister Snuggles in charge without a meltdown. That’s some kind of magic.”

“Trade secret,” I reply with a wink, though inside, my chest tightens in that funny way it always does when she looks at me like that. Like I’m something more than just a biker with a questionable moral compass and a knack for trouble.

She steps closer, and suddenly, the space between us feels smaller than it should. “Seriously, Onyx. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Her voice is quiet, almost fragile, catching me off guard. Janelle’s usually strong and composed, even with everything she’s been through.

I wish she could see the lioness I see. “You’d do just fine. You’re tougher than you give yourself credit for.”

Her lips press into a thin line, and she shakes her head. “I don’t feel tough. Not when he’s still out there… watching.” Her voice breaks slightly on the last word, and I feel that familiar surge of anger bubbling up inside me. Anger at her piece-of-trash ex, who doesn’t know when to quit.

I take a step closer, my boots heavy against the floorboards. “Janelle,” I say firmly, my voice low but steady. “As long as I’m around, he won’t touch you or the kids. I don’t care if I have to stand guard 24/7. He comes near you, he’ll regret it.”

Her eyes meet mine, glistening with unshed tears. For a moment, she doesn’t say anything, just looks at me like she’s trying to figure out how I’ve managed to shoulder so much of her burden without ever flinching.

“I don’t want you putting yourself in danger,” she says finally, her voice barely above a whisper. “You’ve already done so much for us. Too much.”

“Danger’s kind of my thing,” I reply with a crooked grin, trying to lighten the mood. “And besides, you’re worth it.” I want to tell her this isn’t a job anymore to me; this feels like the start of forever.

The words slip out before I realize what I’m saying, and the air between us feels electric for a split second. Her eyes widen slightly, and I can see the faintest hint of a blush creeping up her neck.

I clear my throat, glance toward the hallway, and quickly place my hands on her face, cupping her cheeks. Her quick intake of breath is the only sound in the room as I lean down, just enough for her to know what I’m about to do. I pause, giving her a moment, an out if she wants it. But she doesn’t move away. Instead, her eyes flutter closed, and that’s all the confirmation I need.

When our lips meet, it’s soft at first, like we’re both afraid of breaking whatever fragile connection we’ve been building between us. But then she leans into me, her hands finding their way to my waist, fingers curling into the fabric of my shirt like she doesn’t want to let go. And I’m gone—completely and utterly gone.

It’s not the kind of kiss that sets off fireworks or makes the world spin; it’s something quieter but no less profound. It feels like coming home after years of wandering lost. It feels like safety and warmth and everything good that I didn’t think I deserved.

When we finally pull apart, “Janelle,” I whisper, my thumb brushing against her cheekbone. “I know this... us... it’s complicated. But I’m here for you. Not because I have to be, but because I want to be.”

Her eyes search mine, and I swear I can see a storm of thoughts swirling behind them. She might say something momentarily, push me away and tell me this is all a mistake. But instead, she places her hand over mine, the one still cradling her cheek, and leans into it like she’s drawing strength from me.

“I’m terrified,” she admits softly. “I’ve been scared for so long that I don’t know how to feel anything else. But when I’m with you…” Her voice trails off, and she shakes her head slightly as if frustrated with herself. “When I’m with you, I feel like maybe… maybe it’s okay to hope again.”

Her words hit me harder than any punch ever could. Hope. It’s such a small word, but she carries so much weight. I swallow hard, trying to keep my voice steady. “Then let me be your hope, Janelle. Let me be the one who stands between you and everything that scares you and show you that it’s okay to breathe again. You deserve that—you and the kids. I’m not going anywhere.”

Her lips part like she wants to respond, and nothing comes out, but her grip on my hand tightens, and that’s all the answer I need for now.

Chloe’s voice echoes from down the hall, breaking the spell between us. “Mom! Abel’s trying to sneak the waffle maker into his bag!”

Janelle lets out a startled laugh, and I can’t help but chuckle. The moment might have been broken, but the warmth between us remains. She pulls back slightly, her cheeks still flushed and gives me a small, sheepish smile.

"I should go stop that before we end up with half the kitchen in the car," she says, her voice light now but her eyes still holding that vulnerable warmth from earlier.

I laugh, stepping back reluctantly but keeping my hand over hers for a moment longer. “I’ll handle it,” I offer with a grin. “You’ve got enough on your plate without negotiating with a twelve-year-old over aquatic travel companions.”

She gives me a grateful smile, and for the first time in what feels like forever, her eyes have a glimmer of lightness. “Good luck. You’re gonna need it.”

I arch an eyebrow playfully as I head down the hall. “Luck’s overrated. I’ve got charm and sheer stubbornness on my side.”

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