Charlie

Annabel and I slide in behind Sarah and Grady on the Space Mountain ride. Taking them to Disneyland was the first thing Annabel wanted to do when we left D.C. I guess she’s been promising a family trip for years.

I’m loving it. Every slice of apple pie Americana I get feels like I’ve won the lottery. It’s the life I never thought I’d have—the cotton candy, the girl, the kid. Well, he’s not ours, but a nephew is close enough.

And I’m all about getting to know Annabel’s family. I want to absorb everything that is Annabel for the rest of my life.

After this, we’re going to Kentucky to visit my mom. Hopefully, she won’t have a heart attack when she finds out I’m still alive. I want to hear from her the story about my dad—everything she knows. And I want to make up for the years I stole from her. Well, I probably can’t ever do that, but I’m going to try my best.

The ride starts up, the roller coaster sliding over the tracks. “You’re not going to scream like a girl, are you?” Annabel asks me. She’s dyed her hair back to the dark auburn I love so much. I burrow my fingers into it and massage the back of her head.

“Oh, assuredly.” I grin like an idiot.

“I am, too,” Sarah says, putting her arms in the air and pasting on the terrified/excited face she’ll be wearing for real in a few seconds.

The cars streak off into the darkness, and I turn Annabel’s face toward mind, capturing a bumpy, breathless kiss.

“This is what it’s always like with you,” she shouts over the rattle of the tracks and the screams of the passengers.

“What?” I shout back. S~ᴇaʀᴄh the FɪndNovᴇl.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

“A rollercoaster ride I don’t want to end.”

I capture her face with both hands and find her mouth again, holding my lips against hers while we ride over the bumps and turns.

Same here, sweetheart.

Same here.

Epilogue II

Annabel

This is the most tense I’ve seen Charlie. I find it fascinating and somewhat swoon-worthy that the guy doesn’t flinch in life or death situations, it’s the emotional ones that get him.

And yeah, showing up to tell your mom you’re not actually dead must be a doozy.

We drive to a beautiful but rustic cabin-style mountain home and get out of the SUV we rented in Lexington.

“Wow, is this the house you grew up in?” I ask before I realize it’s probably too new for that.

Charlie doesn’t take his eyes off the structure as he shakes his head. “They arranged a big pension payout for her when I died. It was part of our negotiations.”

Oh God—he died. This woman grieved her only son. What will she think when we just show up at her door?

The door opens, and a slender woman in her early fifties comes out, suspicion crawling over her expression.

We walk toward the house, but every step seems to take forever.

“Forgive me, mama,” Charlie says, but he doesn’t speak loud enough for her to hear.

She’s looking at me with narrowed eyes, her hands on her hips. Her gaze swivels to Charlie, and she freezes.

He nods, still walking glacially slow. “It’s me, mama. I’m alive.”

Her gaze jerks back to me, then she’s in motion, flying down the steps and throwing herself at Charlie. He wraps his arms around her and squeezes, his eyes moist.

“Charlie? How can this be? You’re really alive? What’s going on?”

“I’m sorry, mama,” he murmurs again.

She pulls back sharply to look at his face. Hers is streaked with tears. “You’re sorry for what? What the hell is going on?”

“I went into the CIA. Clandestine services. They killed me off for your protection. I’m so sorry.”

She opens and closes her mouth twice before she turns to me and says, “Well, I guess you both had better come in.”

She leads the way, and I squeeze Charlie’s hand. I can tell this is unbelievably painful for him because he’s practically turned to stone. His movements are mechanical and stiff, his face blank, his eyes vacant.

She ushers us into a beautiful, high-ceilinged log cabin and brings out three bottles of beer. “I guess it’s early to be drinking, but…” she trails off, staring at her son.

He opens his beer and chugs half of it.

“I’m Annabel,” I say, sticking out my hand.

She jerks her gaze back to me and gives my hand a warm squeeze. “I’m Callie. Are you Charlie’s girl?”

“Yes, I am.” My hand subconsciously slips to my shoulder where the bite marks have become subtle scars, and her eyes track the movement. Her expression sharpens and turns on her son.

“Charlie, are you—” she breaks off, uncertainty flashing on her expression.

“A wolf?”

Her lips part, eyes grow wider.

“Yes.”

She throws her arms back around his neck, and he closes his eyes when he holds her, as if in pain.

“I should have told you, Charlie. I just didn’t think you’d become one. I didn’t know.”

“I should’ve told you I was alive. I’m sorry for the pain I caused you.”

She leans against him as if her legs won’t work. Tears flow freely down her face. “Don’t you be sorry, boy,” she says fiercely. “You’re alive. That’s all that matters to me now.”

He kisses the top of her head, the stiffness ebbing from his shoulders and face. “You forgive me?”

She takes his hand and leads him to the couch, waving me to sit down, too. “There’s nothing to forgive. You served your country. I couldn’t be more proud. But what changed? Why are you here now?”

“I quit. It may still be unwise for me to be here, but I couldn’t stay away.”

She sits beside him and squeezes his hand. “I’ll bet you have some questions about your father, too.”

“I do. Tell me, mama.”

“I met him in the woods outside your grandfather’s place. I was sixteen. This giant silver wolf was tracking me.

“It scared the hell out of me. I ran, and he gave chase. I don’t think he could help himself—he had raging teen hormones, and the moon was full.

“He disappeared when I got to the house. I locked the door and told your grandparents, but they didn’t believe me. No one did. Wolves aren’t supposed to live in these mountains.

“I didn’t see him again for two years, then he came into the bar as a man and asked me out. We dated for a couple months. Things got intimate. Then one full moon, he bit me.” She pulls back the collar of her shirt to show marks just like mine.

“I freaked out. Got out of his truck and ran home, bleeding. He tried to follow to explain, but your grandpa went after him with a shotgun.

“I didn’t see him again until after you were born. I had my own place, and I saw the wolf again. I went and got a gun, and he changed—right there, in front of my eyes. The wolf became a man.

“He tried to explain to me what had happened—that wolves mark their mates, except he shouldn’t have marked me because I was a human. He said it was forbidden to mark a human, and his family was furious he’d fathered a child.

“He wanted to see you. I told him no way. I was afraid, Charlie. I thought his kind would come and try to take you away from me. I did my best to keep him out of your life.

“But he cared about you.” Her eyes—the same cash green as Charlie’s—fill with fresh tears. “He never stopped trying to see you. To convince me he wasn’t bad. Then—” she stops speaking her voice choking.

“Then he got shot by Grandpa,” Charlie finishes flatly.

I gasp.

Callie nods. “You saw it, didn’t you?”

“I remember that night. I didn’t put it together until recently. I didn’t find out what I am until recently.”

Callie straightens her shoulders like she’s summoning courage. “His family live up in the deep woods. I could take you to see them if you want.”

Charlie shakes his head. “No, I’m good. Maybe someday. For now, it’s enough to have you.” He looks over at me. “You and Annabel are all the family I need.”

I smile at him through trembling lips, still marveling that I’ve become someone important to my lone wolf.

His mother turns and smiles at me, too. “You’re braver than I was. You’ve accepted what he is. Thank you for loving my son.”

I touch the bite marks again. “I wouldn’t have him any other way.”

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