Midlife Wolf Bite Book 1

Anyone who tells you divorce can be amicable is straight-up lying to your face.

Divorce with kids involved? Yeah, you may as well leave the planet because every move you make is going to be open for scrutiny.

Whether you’re a good person or not, doesn’t mean a damn thing because in someone’s worldview, you’re the villain, and that’s all that matters.

Practically driving on autopilot, I stare across the green, hilly landscape. Over and over I’ve prayed this move will be the right decision.

For all of us.

In my youth, I’d done some pretty spontaneous, albeit kinda crazy things... I took a drive to downtown Chicago by myself, with no cellphone—no protection of any kind, actually—all because I wanted to see the sights for myself. I slept with a guy once without even knowing his name. And my favorite stupid, spontaneous decision: I got married before I turned twenty.

But this?

Well, let’s just say it’s the craziest thing I’ve done in a good long while. Maybe ever.

When my best friend and resident vicarious-liver, Denise, suggested I buy a house off the internet an entire state away, I thought she was nuts. Hell, she probably is nuts.

But I did it anyway.

So, what’s that say about me? I mean, sure, getting as far away as possible from the ex drove the bus on that decision. I’m not even gonna lie.

But regardless, I still knew it was bonkers. I’ve never even seen the house in person. We could turn up to a total dump and be stuck with it. At this point, it would be my luck.

On the other hand, if the house is as cool as it seemed from the pics, then this could be the adventure of a lifetime. At least my kids didn’t think I was too insane. So, that’s saying something. Or maybe they just wanted to get some distance, too.

“How much further is this place?” Asher asks, repositioning in the passenger seat. He tugs his hood down over his eyebrows, then tips his head to the glass on his passenger side door.

My eyes flick to the in-dash GPS and I arch my aching back.

Lord, I’m too old for such a long drive.

“It says we’re nearly there. Another twenty minutes,” I mutter, rolling my head from one side to the other.

Both daughter and son groan in unison.

“Another twenty minutes?” Avery says, leaning in between the console from the backseat. “Is that in actual time? Because I swear you said twenty minutes forty minutes ago.”

I spit out a laugh. “Is the TikToker going through filming withdrawals?”

“Mom,” she says, vanishing back into her seat.

I can practically hear her roll her eyes.

“Are you kidding? She’s been filming this whole trip,” Asher says, snickering under his breath. “Can’t you hear her making duck faces?”

Lightning fast, Avery’s right hand snakes out and slaps her brother across the upper arm. “Shut up.”

“Hey,” Asher says, twisting around to take a crack at hitting her back.

I thrust my arm out as a divider between the two of them.

“Guys, enough,” I say, busting out the ‘mom voice’ so they knew I mean business. “I know you’re both ready to get out of this cramped vehicle. I am, too. But we need to hold our shit together or Mom’s gonna lose her shit and trust me, that won’t be pretty. My ass is already numb and I’m pretty sure I won’t be able to walk straight for a week. Now’s not the time to get on my bad side.”

“Yeah, you heard Mom. Knock it off,” Avery says. In the rearview mirror I witness her tongue flash out like she’s four and not fourteen. Without a word, I lower my eyebrows when her deep brown eyes find mine.

“Real mature,” Asher snorts, swiping his sandy brown hair out of his eyes and turning back to face his window.

My phone vibrates from my cupholder and on instinct, I eye the notification. Of course, it’s a text from the evil-one-who-shall-not-be-named. I sigh, fighting the urge to roll my eyes and stick out my own tongue.

Without checking the message, I stare out the windshield and try desperately to focus on the road instead of the knot of dread forming in my stomach.

Honestly, a text from him could only mean one of two things. He wants me to be his personal assistant, likely in an attempt to force our two teenage kids to call him, or he wants to question my parenting skills. Again.

Either way, it’s about flexing his ‘I’m still the dad’ muscles. Apparently, because he doesn’t give a fuck what the court documents say… Or the kids for that matter. Or maybe because he isn’t comfortable being irrelevant.

“It’s from Dad,” Avery mutters, her voice practically a whisper.

“Yeah, I know.” I shift my gaze back to the rearview mirror just as she pulls her hood down and tightens the drawstring. She slinks into herself, wrapping her arms tightly around her torso.

God, how did I not realize how bad it was for them?

“What do you think he wants this time?” Asher asks. He might be seventeen, but I can still sense his fear and anxiety as it rolled off him in waves.

“I don’t know. Do you want to look for me?” I ask, shooting him a quick glance.

“Not overly,” he says, his gaze locked out on the passing trees.

Me either, kid.

I take a deep breath, then flick the phone open to reveal the message.

Are you going to have Asher call me or not?

Ah, so PA it is.

I shake my head, not bothering to respond. Even if I did, he’d find some way to twist it and make it my fault they didn’t want to speak to him. God forbid he take any personal responsibility.

Denise was right. I did need a new life. One that turned this mundane existence and flipped it on its head.

Or flipped him on his.

I’m not picky.

“Why can’t he just let us be? Doesn’t he realize he’s just pissing us off more by being such a dick?” Avery says, her lips twisting to the side of her face.

I shrug. “I honestly don’t know. If I could make sense out of that man’s brain, pretty sure we wouldn’t be where we are now.”

“It’s because he doesn’t actually give a fuck about anyone else,” Asher says, venom leaking into his voice.

“Language,” I hiss, twisting to give him a fixed stare.

“Sorry,” he says, without even looking back at me. “But it’s true.”

I reach out, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I know it seems that way, but—”

My gaze returns to the road just in time to see an enormous white wolf race out in front of our vehicle. For the briefest of moments, I marvel at the way its fur contrasts so boldly against the lush green of the landscape.

In the same moment, I grasp the wheel with both hands and slam on the brakes. The tires of our Highlander squeal, launching the stench of burnt rubber into the air.

Asher’s head snaps forward and his left hand braced against the dash. “Holy shit. What was that thing?”

My heart pounds in my ears and adrenaline courses down my arms and legs, making them shake. The wolf, on the other hand, stands just off to the side of the road with its head held high. A shiver races down my spine as its bright green eyes lock with mine. It’s almost as if it’s inspecting us, rather than the other way around.

“What is that thing? A timber wolf?” Avery chimes in. “It’s massive.”

Swallowing hard, I shake my head and glance at her. “I’m not sure. Maybe?”

By the time I look back, the wolf is gone.

“What’s going on up there?” Asher asks, raising his arm to point through the windshield.

With my foot still firmly planted on the brake, I redirect my gaze further out. A black truck up ahead surges forward like he was being chased by hellhounds or something. Then, with a sharp swerve, it veers into the oncoming lane. Out in front of them is a smaller SUV. Its bright red paint is hard to miss as it swerves slightly to avoid the black truck’s erratic movements.

“The road rage is real with that one,” Avery says, leaning forward. She presses her hands against both front seats as her eyes lock on the scene.

I nod. “You’re not kidding. What the hell are they doing?”

The black truck twists sharply to the right and clips the red SUV’s back bumper. The event puts the SUV into a spin. It does a full three-sixty before the driver floors it. The truck, on the other hand, keeps up, staying right on the red SUV’s tail.

“Oh my god, they’re trying to run that red SUV off the road,” I cry, covering my mouth with my fingertips.

“What do we do?” Avery cries.

Snapped back to reality, I reach for my phone and pull up the dial pad. Someone is going to get hurt if this keeps up. We’ve got to report it.

“Mom, are we safe? What if they come back this way?” Avery asks, panic rising at the edge of her tone.

“Don’t worry, honey. I’m sure we’re okay,” I say, pressing the send button to 911.

Just then, the black truck swerves again, slamming its passenger side into the red SUV. The force is enough to launch the SUV up and over the guardrail on the right-hand side.

My mouth drops open in horror as the SUV rotates forty-five degrees in mid-air, then drops into the ravine and out of view.