Page 29 of Spooked
An hour passes. Then two. The temperature drops as clouds gather overhead, and I wrap my jacket tighter around myself, the jack-o-lanterns surrounding me with their judgy faces.
My phone buzzes with calls from Jane that I ignore.
This is more important than anything else.
Finally, the front door opens behind me. I turn to find Wolfe in the doorway, masked once again, his expression cold and distant.
"Go home, Ash."
"No." I stand, facing him. "Not until you listen to me."
"I've heard enough." His voice is flat, emotionless.
"It was a mistake!" The words burst out of me. "I was editing at 1 a.m. and I was tired and I was thinking about you and I just...I moved the wrong file. I didn't mean to submit it."
"Your editor seemed pretty excited about it,'" he says coldly.
I flinch. “I can kill the story. Tell her to scrap the whole piece?—”
“After she's already seen what a great story it will make?” He steps closer, and I see the pain beneath his anger. “The Beast Unmasked. The Photographer Who Tamed the Monster. That's career-making material, isn't it?”
“I don't care about my career!” The words rip out of me, raw and desperate. “Wolfe, I love you, not what you could do for my career. Do you really think I'd risk losing you for a magazine cover?”
Something flashes in his eyes, but his voice remains hard. "How do I know what to think? You're a photojournalist. This is what you do—you capture moments and sell them."
"Not that moment." My heart pounds. "That moment was ours. That photo was private, just like you said. And I fucked up. I made a terrible, stupid mistake, and I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."
He gazes at his feet. "It doesn’t matter."
"It does matter. I made a promise." I pull out my phone, opening my contacts. "I'm calling Jane right now. I'm telling her we can't use any of the photos. Not the masked ones, not the manor shots, none of them."
His eyes widen. "Ash, no. That would destroy your reputation."
"I don't care." I'm already dialing. "If that's what it takes for you to forgive me, if that's what it takes to prove that you matter more than any assignment, then that's what I'll do."
"You're not thinking clearly. This could ruin your career."
"Then let it." The phone rings once. Twice. "My career means nothing without you. You're not a story to me, Wolfe. You're not material to be exploited. You're the man I fell in love with, and I'd rather give up photography entirely than lose you."
He stares at me, eyes unblinking.
"Jane?" I say as my editor picks up. "It's Ash. About the Marsden Manor feature?—"
A big hand covers my phone, ending the call. Wolfe searches my face… "You'd really give it all up?" he asks quietly. "For me?"
"Without hesitation." I cup his cheek through the mask. "Careers can be rebuilt. Trust can't. If I lost you because of my stupidity, I'd never forgive myself."
He's quiet except for his breathing.
"I was so angry," he admits. "When Dev told me about the photo, all I could think was that you'd played me. That you'd gotten close to me just to get the shot no one else could."
"Never." I touch his face gently. "This face, your scars—they're not trophies for me to display. They're proof of your courage, your sacrifice. They're beautiful because they're part of you."
"I overreacted," he says, leaning into my touch. "I should have called you, let you explain."
"You were hurt. You had every right to be angry." I stroke my thumb across his cheekbone. "But Wolfe, you have to trust me. I would never, ever exploit you or what we have."
He closes his eyes, exhaling slowly. "I know. Deep down, I know that. But when I saw that photo..."
