The Werewolf Lawyer's Human Mate

7-Another Night

Claire Dane’s POV

Morning comes quietly, and to say I am scared is an understatement. In all my life, I had never been shot at, nor been in a situation near gunfire. While I barely slept, I know Jeremy has not. The entire night, he had his eyes plastered to the door, getting up now and then to check the windows.

We barely speak, but he tells me that he is recently divorced, and he was thinking of moving back home. Home, as in the house he grew up in, and not the apartment he currently lives in, with his son, he details. He, in turn, asks me about the ex I wanted to hire him to beat up.

Conversation helps ease my chaotic mind.

While Daniel slept on the long couch, his father and I were on the two singles. The old woman, who introduced herself as Martha, apologized for not having two bedrooms, even though we assured her it was no problem for us, and we were perfectly content to just be warm and indoors. Grateful to be out of sight of whoever was after us. Or him, because nobody is after me, I guarantee. I’d bandaged his bleeding arm, and he’d made no fuss about it, only watching as I did, not flinching a bit.

Now, Martha moves around her kitchen like she’s done this a thousand times before for us, humming softly as she plates eggs and toast, the smell alone almost makes me emotional, bringing back memories of my childhood when I had a grandmother.

“My husband’s still asleep,” she says casually, pouring tea. “He sleeps more than twelve hours these days.” She smiles when she says it. Not annoyed. “He deserves it, you know? Worked himself half to death when he was younger. Took care of everyone else first.” There’s something in her voice- fondness, steady, unshakable that makes my chest ache. The way she talks about him like he’s still her whole world, even while he’s snoring away in the next room, unaware that three strangers are in his rental.

Jeremy sits across from me, Daniel tucked against his side, eating slowly. I’m grateful for that woman in a way I don’t have words for, and it shook me that I am this starved for affection that such a little display affected me this much.

All I know is that I will never forget the last few days of my life- ever. Martha and her absent from view, husband, too.

Must be the holidays and all that.

She tells Daniel to take good care of his mommy, meaning me, and I gush because one, I would have loved to be his mother if it meant his daddy is mine, and two, do I look that old? I’m only twenty-three.

Leaving, we thank her again and again. She waves it off like it’s nothing, presses extra bread into our hands, and insists we’ll need it as if straight out of a childhood storybook.

The sky is pale blue, the snow untouched except for the path we make as we leave.

Barely even talking, we walk along narrow pathways that barely qualify as trails, certainly not wide enough for roads. Fallen trees block entire stretches, and snow piled so high it swallows the path completely in places. It explains why no authorities have reached us yet, but the realization leaves a sour taste in my mouth. How is it that Jeremy, a bodyguard, can navigate his way through this terrain, while trained officials can’t?

Or won’t?

I mean, I know this is what people face when they choose to vacation out of the world, in cabins and cottages dropped into the mountains like secrets, hidden deliberately, tucked away where the world thins out and forgets you exist. No Wi-Fi. No vehicles in these parts. When the weather allows, the staff who manage the rentals bring people in and take them out by snowmobile or specialized transport. That’s it. No easy access. No quick rescue.

But still… they know after a storm to check on people.

This experience alone would have my best- former best friend- telling me she’s sending a strongly worded letter to the sheriff’s department. And she would have.

I have to find it in me to adjust to this hurt- this betrayal by my best friend and boyfriend. Just thinking of it has my heart cracking, and it temporarily blinds the fear of being gunned down.

Temporarily.

A branch cracking somewhere behind us has me screaming and holding my head, dropping into the freshly fallen snow, and Jeremy quickly scans the area, a frown upon his forehead as he comes to me, grabbing my arm. Daniel and him were walking ahead of me.

“Wild animals,” the father assures me, and even the son seemed on the verge of laughing at me, by the way his mouth twisted.

“Don’t you dare,” I playfully point at him with a stern finger, smiling at my mistake. Broken branch for a gunshot?

Daniel then proceeds to tell me about his friends back home. About a girl who fell off a branch, because she was silly. His father is quick to give his intake- “Er, they were building a treehouse, and thankfully it was at Sally’s house, so her parents had nobody to blame but themselves.” He pulled his lips wide, eyes in exaggeration, hands raised, head shaking as he told me.

Something tells me either Sally is an issue or her parents are.

Jeremy moves with purpose, scanning constantly, and I don’t ask where we’re going, trusting him completely, hoping that we do not come across our cottage. The cottage where I was supposed to share with friends… which is weird because I have nowhere else to go. If I don’t go there, from here, I am homeless.

Just after midday, we come across another cabin, this one empty, and the door is unlocked. Lucky for us that no locks are needed on these paths, huh.

No food, but we do have bread and beans, and sardines.

We decide to spend the night since Daniel needed rest, and Jeremy tells us we are close to the main house. “Five miles, give or take,” he sounds out, squinting as he takes in the distance, patting his son on his shoulders.

All I see is white all around me with the gentle disturbance of a tree here and there, covered not completely in snow. His words bring me comfort, then dread, tangled so tightly I can’t separate them. Comfort, because we’re safe back in civilization, and we’ll speak with the sheriff soon. But then, I’ll be sent back to my friends, back to the cottage, back to a life where none of this ever happened. The end of him.

The end of this strange, terrifying misadventure that somehow carved its way into my chest.

“If you want, I can speak to the Sheriff alone.” Jeremy Anderson offers as he chews his bread. “Maybe one of the deputies would take you back to your friends. I’ll handle everything else. I know it was traumatic- what happened. And I’m certain your friends are worried about you. I'm sure they’re even out searching for you.”

How to comprehend the thought of not seeing him again? This unease settles into my chest, refusing to leave. It isn’t dramatic or loud. It’s a slow, persistent ache, the kind that gnaws. The end of us. The end of this strange, terrifying misadventure should have left me shaken and nothing more.

Not just because of Jeremy, but because of Daniel. The idea of never hearing his small voice again, never seeing the way he clings to his father, like the world only makes sense when Jeremy is close. The way Jeremy steadies him with nothing more than a hand at his back- the way he felt safe knowing his father would protect him…

The way I also felt with this stranger. These two strangers, whom I had not known just days ago. I shouldn’t care this much. This is logic, whispering weakly, losing ground to something warmer and far more dangerous. Connection. Relief. The quiet gratitude that comes from being kept alive by someone who never once acted like it was a burden… as my father did…

Taking the last bite of my sandwich, I look at Jeremy and feel the tug-of-war inside me stretch tight. I swallow hard, afraid that if I speak, I’ll say something that sounds like goodbye.

And I’m not ready for that yet.