Page 72 of Lone Wolf in Lights
Their movements became a dance, bodies in sync as she gave in to the smoldering passion. Each touch, each moment brought her higher as their moans mingled. The loss of control rising with each hard thrust.
She met him, stroke for stroke, hard and fast, building and building, wantingmore...andmore.
Until the truth of their feelings was laid bare,and in his safety, Willow clung to the edge of the bar, fingers gripping the wood that Eli had built. Her thoughts evaporated, sensation was all she knew as she crashed over the edge, hearing his roar and feeling his frantic thrusts follow as they fell in something better than pleasure. They fell into love.
Twenty-Three
The following morning, Eli’s hands gripped the steering wheel as the snow-dusted Montana landscape whisked by. The road ahead was lined with frosted trees, their branches weighed down by the heavy snow. Beside him, Willow clutched the leather-bound checkbook, her fingers tracing the embossed initials—WQ—etched into its cover. He’d woken up this morning feeling like for once, in a very long time, he was getting things exactly right. He knew Miranda would be cheering him and his mother would be proud of him.
“I wish the drive was faster,” she murmured, bouncing in her seat. “I just want to get the shelter this money.”
“We’re not far now,” Eli said, grinning at her, when the ringtone sliced through the cab’s warmth, jolting them both.
Willow fished out her phone from her purse, glancing at the caller ID before answering, “Amie! Merry Christmas.”
Eli listened as Willow and Amie chatted, and even if he only heard one side of the story, he could tell by Willow’s growing smile that the news was good news. Willow’s perfume filled the air of the truck, a light floral scent that mixed with the smell of leather and gasoline, and Eli inhaled it deeply, sure he’d never grow tired of it.
After a dozen minutes, she ended the call and reported, “Amie’s doing so well. She was saying that she’s thinking about starting college courses next year.”
“Good for her,” he agreed.
Willow nodded, slipping the phone into her purse. “I’m so glad she’s safe now, away from Buck.”
“You’re not the only one,” he confessed. From what he’d heard, Buck would get some good jail time, and he was glad for it. He only hoped the prick moved away from Timber Falls after he got out of jail. But he trusted Detective Harris and knew he’d keep tabs on Buck the moment he got out.
“Almost there,” Willow said as they neared the shelter, her excitement palpable, as she bounced again in her seat.
“Ready to make some Christmas magic happen for others?” he asked, though he already knew the answer. Willow didn’t just make things happen; she sprinkled magic wherever she went, including into his life.
“Always,” she replied, her smile infectious.
And as they pulled into the shelter’s driveway, Eli couldn’t help but think that this was what healing looked like—not just mending broken pieces but creating something beautiful in the process.
After parking, he stepped out of the truck, and a cool breeze nipped at his skin as he rounded the vehicle to open the door for Willow. The women’s shelter was a small weather-worn building with a sign that read Haley’s Place. The windows were barred, and the door was reinforced with multiple locks. They walked side by side toward the entrance of the shelter. The heavy door opened after they were approved by security, and they entered the lobby, where one woman was sitting in a chair reading with her children who were playing near the Christmas tree. Beyond them was a metal door that Eli knew he’d never get through, and he was glad for it, as he also was for the security guard with a weapon on his hip watching him like a hawk.
The ambience enveloped him—a delicate blend of hope and determination hung in the air, harmonizing with the laughter of children examining all the ornaments on the tree. While plain outside, the interior walls were lined with motivational posters and bright, cheerful colors to bring warmth to the space.
“Willow!” A woman with lines of kindness etched into her features waved them forward.
“Hi, Sharon,” Willow said, stepping into her warm embrace. “Eli, this is Sharon, the director of the shelter. Sharon, this is Eli. He’s a big part of our donation today too.”
“Oh, Eli,” Sharon said, embracing him tight, warmth pouring from her arms. “Your generosity is going to change lives over the holidays. We can’t thank you enough.”
“You don’t have to thank us,” he began, his words jagged with emotion as he scanned the faces before him. So many women and children were there, hanging around the living room–type room with the television and Christmas tree. “It’s us who should be thanking you. For your dedication, for every night you spend making sure these folks have a safe place to rest their heads.”
Sharon’s smile beamed. “Thank you also, but your generosity will help to keep lights on, and the pantry stocked, but it goes beyond that. We’re setting up a program for financial literacy, job training and education. It’s about giving these women the tools they need to build independent lives, free from fear.”
Eli’s gaze lingered on Sharon, then shifted to Willow, whose smile filled his chest with more warmth than he’d ever felt in his life. He knew the importance of what Sharon described; it wasn’t just about survival; it was about reclaiming life itself. “Independence is priceless,” he murmured.
“Exactly,” Sharon replied, her smile deepening. “Every dollar you’ve raised is a step toward that independence.” She looked out to the children, before addressing them again, “You should know, the funds you’ve raised have already changed lives. Like Sandra.” She pointed to a picture on the wall of a woman with a bright, hopeful smile holding a set of keys. “She’s in her own apartment now, going back to university to become a nurse. She’s building a future she never thought possible for herself.”
“Financial independence—it’s one of the first steps to freedom,” Willow added.
“Yes,” Sharon said with a soft nod. “It’s more than just a roof over their heads. It’s about reclaiming their lives, their dignity. You’ve given them that chance, Willow, Eli, and that’s a wonderful thing that we’re all grateful for.”
Eli felt something within him shift, stirring just below the surface. He had entered the ring countless times, faced down beasts made of muscle and fury, but nothing compared to the courage he saw in this room. This was a different kind of strength, one that didn’t roar but quietly persevered.
Obviously reading the emotion on his expression, Willow reached out, her hand finding Eli’s, and in that touch, he felt the weave of their shared purpose—a way to truly honor Miranda’s life.
