Page 31 of Wolf's Whisper

As I approach the kids’ room, chaos is in full swing. Abel is standing defiantly with the waffle maker in one hand, like it’s Excalibur, while Dillon attempts to zip an overstuffed bag with more than just clothes. Bless her tiny heart, Chloe is perched on the bed, supervising like a pint-sized mob boss.

“What’s going on in here?” I ask, leaning against the doorframe and crossing my arms. My voice carries just enough authority to make them pause mid-chaos.

Abel turns to me, his expression caught somewhere between guilt and determination. “We need it,” he declares firmly. “What if there aren’t waffles where we’re going?”

I bite back a laugh and nod solemnly. “A legitimate concern. But let me ask you this—do you know how to use that thing without setting the house on fire?”

He falters momentarily, glancing down at the waffle maker like it might betray him at any second, and that hits me hard. “I mean… how hard could it be?” he mumbles, though the hesitation in his voice is evident.

“Hard enough that I don’t think your mom would appreciate the kitchen or the house smelling like burned waffles,” I reply, stepping fully into the room. “Tell you what. Leave the waffle maker here, and I’ll personally guarantee you a waffle breakfast, no matter where we end up.”

Abel narrows his eyes, clearly weighing the odds of my promise, and it makes me want to bring even more pain against his father. “You swear?” he asks, his tone skeptical.

I press a hand over my heart. “Scout’s honor,” I say with a grin.

“I thought you were in the Army,” Dillon pipes up from behind the overstuffed bag.

“Same difference,” I shoot back, earning a giggle from Chloe and a begrudging smirk from Abel. Finally, Abel sighs and places the waffle maker back on the table. “Fine,” he relents, crossing his arms over his chest. “But if you break your promise, I’m holding you personally responsible.”

This kid, I can tell will keep me on my toes, and if not him I know his sister will. I need to see what Dillion has in his overflowing bag.

I kneel down in front of Dillon’s bag, eyeing it suspiciously. “All right, little man,” I say, gesturing for him to step aside. “What exactly do we have in here? You planning to open up a traveling flea market or something?”

Dillon hesitates, clutching the zipper tightly like I might confiscate his most prized possessions. His nose scrunches upin defiance, but eventually, he steps aside with a dramatic sigh. “It’s important stuff,” he insists. “Stuff we might need.”

“Important stuff, huh?” I unzip the bag slowly, watching his face for any signs of panic. His eyes dart nervously between me and the bag as I start pulling things out one by one. A stuffed T-Rex missing an arm. Three action figures that look like they’ve been through a war zone. A half-empty box of cereal. And… oh no.

“Dillon,” I say, holding up a bright pink bottle of bubble bath shaped like a unicorn. “You wanna explain this one?”

Chloe gasps from her perch on the bed. “That’s mine!” she exclaims, pointing an accusatory finger at her brother, “Did you steal it?” With a sad look that replaces the anger. Dillon's face flushes red and stammers, “I didn’t steal it! I was… borrowing it! For emergencies!”

“Emergencies?” I echo, raising an eyebrow and trying hard not to laugh. “What kind of emergencies require unicorn bubble bath?”

Chloe crosses her arms, her tiny face scrunched in righteous indignation. “It’s mine! You don’t even like bubbles!”

“Well, maybe I do now!” Dillon shoots back, his chin lifting defiantly.

“All right, all right,” I interject before this escalates into a full-blown sibling war. “Let’s put the unicorn bubble bath back where it belongs. Chloe, you can keep your emergency bubble reserve. Dillon, we’ll find you something cooler to pack. Deal?”

Chloe narrows her eyes at her brother but nods solemnly, clearly feeling victorious. Dillon sulks for a moment before finally mumbling, “Fine.”

A smile spreads across my face as I notice that Hatchet's influence has affected her. I zip the bag back up and stand, brushing imaginary dust off my knees. “All right,” I announce, clapping my hands together. “Crisis averted. Are we ready to hitthe road, or does someone else have a secret waffle iron stashed somewhere?”

Abel smirks but doesn’t answer, and Dillon casts one last longing glance at the unicorn bubble bath before nodding. Chloe, as always, looks like she’s ready to take on the world with her tiny fists of fury.

“Good,” I say with a grin. “Let’s load up. Your mom’s probably wondering what’s taking us so long.”

As the three of them shuffle out of the room, I can’t help but feel a strange mix of emotions watching them go. They’ve been through so much—more than any kid should ever have to—but there’s resilience in them, too. A fire that refuses to be snuffed out.

Janelle meets us in the entryway, her arms crossed and a knowing look on her face. "Do I even want to ask what took so long?" she asks, though there’s a hint of amusement behind her words.

“Just some emergency bubble bath negotiations,” I reply with a grin, gesturing toward Chloe, who now clutches her unicorn bottle like it’s the Holy Grail.

Janelle raises an eyebrow. “Bubble bath?”

“I’ll explain later,” I say with a chuckle. “Let’s just say your kids have creative packing strategies.”

Her lips twitch like she’s trying not to laugh, but she gives me this soft look that feels like sunshine on my skin. "Thank you," she says simply, the weight of those two words hitting me harder than I expected.

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