His sense of time was really fucked, wasn’t it.

“You took amazing care of him,” he said as he killed the butt with his fingertips and put it in his back pocket. “That’s all that matters.”

As he went over to her, she said, “Rick’s standards were higher than mine—or maybe my heart is just too in it. I should be more professional.”

Studying her, Daniel thought, I want to hold this memory forever. Of this woman and her wolf, both so fierce, so fragile.

“You’re beautiful,” he said hoarsely.

Her shy eyes lifted to his. “My hair’s a mess.”

“Don’t change, Lydia. Keep your heart just as it is. Will you promise me that?”

She blinked as if he were speaking in a foreign language. Then she tilted her head. “You sound so ominous.”

“Here, I’ll get him off of you.”

As he bent down to get his arms under the animal, the smell of Lydia, of her shampoo, her clothing detergent, her skin … was enough to burrow into his brain and knock out his higher reasoning. Forcing himself to remember what the hell he was doing, he picked up the wolf and straightened.

“Where do you want me to lay him?” he asked.

And she was right about the animal coming around. Those closed eyelids were not so closed anymore, and there was resistance in the legs and in the neck that hadn’t been there when they’d done this back at the pen.

“Over here,” she said. “In this patch of sunlight.”

Lydia walked up a little incline and then dropped into a crouch in front of a soft bed of pine needles that was glowing with golden illumination.

As Daniel went to her and put the wolf down, the sun bathed the animal in a pool of beautiful light.

“He’ll be warm here,” he said. “That’s the idea.”

They stood up at the same time. Then she put her hands on her hips and stared down.

“Come on,” Daniel murmured. “He’s really waking up.”

On that note, the wolf’s eyes locked on Daniel and those jowls twitched like innate aggression was also coming back online—and the predator didn’t like what he was looking at. Yet there was nothing like that sent Lydia’s way. It was almost as if the animal was protecting her.

Yeah, well, back off, fuzz ball, I got that job, Daniel thought to himself.

Although for how much longer?

He put his hands up and took a step back from the wolf. “Relax, I’m not going to hurt her.”

“I’m not sure he speaks English.”

Daniel found his stare returning to the woman who was haunting him, even as he was standing right next to her.

“Well,” he said roughly, “I mean it just the same.”

I PROMISE, I’LL BRING it back in one piece.”

As Lydia stood over Candy’s desk, she smiled at the other woman like everything was fine. Like life hadn’t gone haywire. Like she wasn’t lost in familiar surroundings.

“You look like shit,” the woman said.

“Are we back at this again?” Lydia pushed her hair off her face. “We talked about not using that kind of language.”

“Did we? I can’t recall. Fine, poo-poo. Is that better? Or do you want me to go with ‘doody.’ ” Candy motioned around the empty waiting area. “God knows I wouldn’t want to offend alllllll these people in here. I mean, we got a standing-room-only full of churchgoers. These hankies start flying and we’re at Six Flags without the rides.”

Lydia dropped her head. “You’re trying to be funny.”

“Is it working?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, good. I mean, you look so much better now.” The woman held out something. “God, will you mop up here before you get me started?”

“I’m sorry?”

A Kleenex box was jogged in front of Lydia with impatience. “Clean your puss up, girl. We’ll have none of that crying stuff.”

Flushing, Lydia snapped a tissue free. “Sorry, I’m sorry.” She pressed her eyes with the soft cotton—God, she hadn’t even realized she’d teared up. “I’m fine. Really.”

“Good. So am I.” The Kleenex disappeared and was replaced with car keys. “We’re both fine. Don’t hit anything.”

“I won’t.”

On the way to the door, Lydia had a feeling that some other things were said. Nothing was tracking, though—which considering she’d just promised not to run into anything with Candy’s car was probably something she needed to address before she clicked that seatbelt in place.

Outside, she took a deep breath. Then she walked over to the parking area. As she got in behind the wheel, she took a moment to feel how impossible it seemed that Rick was never, ever going to bring his Jeep into work again. Ever.

At the end of the day, so much in life was malleable. Death, however, was the hard stop, the existential rigor mortis that never departed the remains, everything frozen in whatever position it had been in: No more cars to be driven. No more clothes to be worn. No money used or earned, no food consumed in the fridge or wet washing put in the dryer.

She’d learned that sad truth from her grandfather’s passing, especially when she’d packed up their little house and had to give away all his clothes.

Because really, why was she keeping any of them without him?

Trying to get out of her mourning spiral, she was extra careful as she backed out, making sure that she gave Daniel’s Harley plenty of space—you know, in the event her eyes were not judging distances accurately.

Before she put things in drive and gave the engine some gas, she glanced at the bike. The saddlebags weren’t on it.

Because they were still on the floor, in the far corner of her guest room.

And she was glad they were there.

It meant he was still in Walters. Still in her house.

What he’d said when they’d freed the wolf, about not hurting her, had been … a lovely sentiment. Yet instead of the words warming her heart, they’d chilled her to the bone. She felt like death was stalking her house and she knew she was safer with Daniel in it—plus there were other, sexual reasons she wanted him there.

He was an illusion, though.

Although was anyone mortal really any more than that?

Lydia drove off over the gravel. When she got to the county road, she went right and headed down to the highway. The nearest biggish town was about thirty miles north, and she covered that distance by going up only two exits. That was the deal in this part of upstate. Lot of distance between everything.

The high school she was looking for was not far from the highway. No doubt it had been purposely located just off the interstate so that the kids from Walters and the other small satellite towns could funnel in from all four compass points efficiently. As she pulled into the parking lot, there were cars in the spaces—the teachers and staff, and maybe the seniors, too, lining up their sedans, trucks, and minivans, in orderly rows off to the side of the building’s single-storied sprawl. Meanwhile, out in the back, bleachers framed a playing field that was ringed by a red and green track.

The sprawl was right out of the John Hughes lexicon.

She found a vacancy about four rows from the entrance, and after she pulled in, she grabbed her bag and got out of Candy’s sweet-scented smell-mobile. Her purse was heavier than usual, and as she slung it up onto her shoulder, her neck felt the strain.