Page 71 of The Lone Wolf Café
I could feel the dampness accumulating in my own eyes.I’m so sorry, Rowena. But I can’t.
Please know how much this experience meant to me.
How much you meant to me.
If only things had been different.
Gods, I wish we had more time…
“I should get going.” I turned, peeling my gaze away from Rowena’s. The walk to the doorway felt like it was a mile long, punctuated by the soft thump of my boots against the creaky old floor. My hand reached the door handle, and I clutched it like it was my last lifeline. Despite being made of metal, it was warm. Almost soft.
I chewed my bottom lip.
One last time. One more glance.
It’s your last chance.
I craned my neck over my shoulder. Rowena still stood in the kitchen doorway, unmoving, still as a statue. I could tell her stony façade was starting to crack. It was hard to tell from a dozen feet away, but I swore teardrops were accumulating in her eyes.
“I… I…”
My final words to her.
Gods, what am I supposed to say?
“I’m sorry.”
I threw the door open and bolted into the freezing autumn air before Rowena could reply.
You’re pathetic.I scolded myself as I wrapped my cloak tightly around myself and braved the biting wind. This was unusually cold weather for October, even in Maine. It was so chilly I wondered if it was about to snow, even though the year’s first snowfall wasn’t normally until November.
My final words to Rowena were a terrible choice. Apologies were useless if Rowena didn’t know what I was apologizing for. It was a hollow, half-hearted attempt at mending the rift between us, even if I was already halfway out the door.
Deep down, I knew the apology wasn’t for Rowena. It was for me. To ease some of this pathetic guilt off my shoulders.
But I’d just made it worse. Because now Rowena would never know what I was sorry for. She’d be forever left without an answer while I ran away with my proverbial wolf tail tucked between my legs.
But what’s the alternative?I convinced myself.Telling her you’re a werewolf? Staying until she inevitably figures out the truth?
I knew I needed to stop feeling so guilty about self-preservation. No matter how much it hurt, I was better off heartbroken than dead.
I was so lost in thought I didn’t realize I’d made it back to my cottage until I was staring at the old front door. The one that didn’t lock. I sighed and turned the creaky handle, wandering into what had been my makeshift home for the past two weeks.
It was exactly as I’d left it. Blanket and pillow tucked against the wall. My witchy books stacked in a haphazard pile. Anassortment of half-eaten chip bags and cracker boxes on the dilapidated kitchen counter.
It was hardly a home, but to me, it still counted as living on my own for the first time. It didn’t matter that it was falling apart. During my time in Wisteria Grove, it had been mine. No one else’s.
I settled cross-legged on the floor with one of the faerie fire lanterns. It glowed a soft blue, illuminating the dimming light in the cottage. It was still daytime, but the sun was already dipping low in the sky, and I knew it would be dark within the hour.
I pulled the cream-colored envelope from my dress pocket. Aria materialized on the floor next to me, even though I hadn’t summoned her. She always had such perfect timing.
“Okay, girl,” I sighed, relieved I had Aria to talk to. That I wasn’t completely alone in this ramshackle cottage nursing my freshly broken heart. “Let’s see what’s inside.”
I counted the bills, smoothing them and stacking them into piles by type.
Once I finished, I cocked my head in confusion.
I tallied the bills again.
