When the Wolf wakes

Chapter 1

Sarah

When the woods begin to open up ahead of me, I know I'm getting close to the ranch.

For almost two hours, I haven't thought about Ethan.

That's a record for the last three months.

Being in wolf form makes it easier. Scents come from every direction. The wind keeps shifting. Every sound feels important. There's always something to follow, something to check, something that grabs my attention before my mind can wander back to where I don't want it to go. I run, and that's it. Not because I'm searching for something. I run because I need to.

The storage shed appears between the trees just before the far fence line. It's been there forever. When I was a kid, it seemed enormous. Now I realize it's little more than a shed with an old workbench and a few shelves, but I still get the same feeling every time I walk inside.

It's one of the few places I still associate with something simple.

I push the door open and step inside.

The shift only takes a few minutes. When it's over, I stay where I am, one hand resting on the workbench, my breathing still uneven.

It's always the same.

The world gets smaller.

Scents lose their sharp edges. Sounds grow distant.

It's like moving from a room full of open windows into one with only a single window left.

I open the wardrobe Aunt Mirta always keeps stocked and pull out a cream-colored robe. She still folds everything the same way she did twenty years ago.

It makes me smile.

If the world ended tomorrow, Mirta would probably still find time to leave a clean robe in the shed.

I get dressed slowly and head outside.

For a few minutes, the run is still doing its job.

I feel lighter.

Calmer.

Then I think about Ethan.

I sigh.

Here we go.

I'm confused.

It's the simplest truth I can find, and probably the most honest one.

Some days I want to go back to New York and file for divorce.

Other days I catch myself checking my phone, hoping to find a message from him.

Sometimes I'm furious.

Sometimes I miss him.

The worst part is that I can't tell which version of me is telling the truth.

Three months ago, I found them together.

Since then, Ethan keeps calling.

And every now and then, I keep answering.

I'm ashamed to admit it.

I reach the paddock and lean against the fence. The horses are grazing peacefully, and for a few minutes I watch them without thinking about anything in particular.

The sun is sinking behind the trees, and the ranch looks exactly the way I remember it.

It doesn't matter how many years pass or how far away I live.

Nothing changes much here.

And that's one of the reasons I keep coming back.

I hear the porch door open behind me.

I don't need to turn around.

Mom stops beside me and rests her forearms on the fence. For a while, she doesn't say anything.

She watches the horses the way I do.

"I ran for a long time."

"I figured."

I nod.

For a few seconds, I think about dropping it.

Then I shake my head.

"It didn't help."

Mom waits.

"Or maybe it did. For a little while."

"Even a little while is something."

I lower my gaze to the ground.

"I'm tired of being confused."

The words slip out before I can stop them.

"I wish I knew what to do."

"And you don't."

"No."

The answer comes immediately.

"I still love him."

Saying it out loud hurts.

"And that's the problem."

Mom doesn't say anything.

She doesn't try to convince me to leave him.

She doesn't try to convince me to forgive him.

She gives me room.

"Sometimes I think I shouldn't even answer his calls."

"And then?"

"Then he calls and I answer."

Mom nods slowly.

"Does that make you feel stupid?"

"Very."

A laugh escapes me.

"Thank you for that professional diagnosis."

"You're welcome."

We stand there in silence for a few seconds.

"I just want to know if I'm trying to save my marriage or if I'm afraid to let it go."

"I think you're trying to figure that out."

It's not the answer I want.

Maybe because the answer I want doesn't exist.

The porch door opens again.

Dad walks over carrying three mugs of coffee.

"I had a feeling somebody out here needed caffeine."

I take the mug he offers me.

"Out here, or anywhere your wife happens to be?"

"Years of experience have taught me not to take chances."

Mom rolls her eyes.

I smile for the first time since I came out of the woods.

Dad leans against the fence beside us, and for a while we simply stand there.

Nobody tries to fix anything.

Nobody tells me what I should do.

It's one of the things I love most about my family.

My phone vibrates in the pocket of my robe.

The smile disappears immediately.

For a second, I'm sure it's Ethan.

My stomach tightens before I even look at the screen.

Then I pull it out.

Gioia.

The relief must be obvious because Mom notices right away.

"Answer it."

"How do you know who it is?"

"I don't."

A faint smile touches her lips.

"But whoever's name is on that screen, it's not the one you were afraid of."

I shake my head and accept the call.

"Hey."

"Tell me you're not doing anything stupid."

I can't stop myself from smiling.

"Good evening to you too."

"Where are you?"

"At the ranch."

"Perfect. At least there are witnesses."

"I'm afraid I don't want to know what that means."

"Probably for the best."

I lean against the fence.

"You calling to make sure I'm still alive?"

"That too."

There's a pause.

I know that pause.

Whenever Gioia pauses like that, it means she's about to drag me into something.

"And mostly?" I ask.

I can hear her smile through the phone.

"I have an idea."