Margaret had been visiting my cabin a lot more since I’d got back from Aberdeen. She told me that Caleb had moved out a couple of weeks after he’d left me. So he’d been back in Crookshollow, but hadn’t come to see me.

She didn’t know where he’d gone. Which was good, because if she did, I might be tempted to find him. And he clearly wanted nothing to do with me.

Luke stayed in Crookshollow for a few weeks to help Robbie settle into his new Crookshollow flat. The two of them would disappear into the forest for days at a time, but when I asked Luke what they were doing, he just said they were on “pack business.” I knew they were meeting Caleb.

Again and again, I begged Luke to tell me where he was, but he wouldn’t budge. He also wouldn’t deliver a message for me, nor even tell me what he and Caleb and Robbie were plotting together. “It’s Lowe family business,” he said. “This isn’t something you should get involved in.”

I didn’t blame him for the secrecy. I wasn’t a member of the pack. I wasn’t anyone’s mate.

I was rejected, again.

Being alone in the cabin gave me so much time to think, but all my thoughts were about Caleb. I thought it would be more than enough time to get over him. After all, we’d really only known each other for a couple of months. But every grain of wood in the place made me think of him.

I hated him for leaving me, for building up all that love and hope inside me and then crushing it under his paw. I hated him for proving me right, for becoming just another white guy who had screwed me over. I hated him for how weak I felt whenever I thought of him. And yet … I missed him terribly. I missed him so bad, my chest hurt to think about it.

I forced myself to write, to mask the pain with words. The story morphed – almost without me realising it – into something dark and twisted. Nellie systematically worked her way through the people who had wronged her, enacting increasingly more violent revenge upon them. At first it was fun, dreaming up the ways I’d like to hurt everyone, how Susan would be choked by her own Chanel scarf, how Sam would have his penis cut off and fed to him. But the more I wrote, the deeper I sank into Nellie’s vengeance, the more I realised how much I didn’t want to be like her.

Caleb had shown me I had so much more to live for, to look forward to. I didn’t want to be consumed by the trauma of my past. Nancy was wrong, the book was a great idea, just not in the way I’d envisioned. It wasn’t going to win me the Man Booker prize, but it was helping me to move on.

One day, about two months after we got back from Aberdeen, I sat down at the computer, opened the revenge novel, selected all the words, and hit the delete button. As soon as the screen went blank, a wave of relief washed over me. I smiled my first genuine smile in two months.

And then immediately thought of Caleb, and burst into tears again.

During one of my many calls to her, Nancy said that time would heal me, but time didn’t do jack shit to dull the pain of Caleb’s absence. His presence followed me wherever I went. Every time I went out to the bathroom, I remembered the first night we met – the fun, easy flirting, the way our skin sizzled when we touched. He haunted my dreams, his hands all over my body, his breath hot against my ear. I’d wake up with a start, certain I could still taste the ghost of him on my lips.

I started working on a mystery book, where a plucky black detective solved puzzling murders in a small town filled with quirky characters. The town, of course, had a history of supernatural occurrences. It was a fun book, but I wasn’t sure I really got the character. She felt flat.

Everything felt flat.

* * *

I tried to distract myself by embracing village life. It took all the courage I had to overcome my fear that everyone would try to burn me in the street, but the alternative was staying in the cabin, staring at a Caleb-shaped dent in my chintz chair. Every time I headed to the book group, or volunteered at Cole’s bird sanctuary, or helped Alex take her painting into the Halt gallery, it got a little easier. I hadn’t had a panic attack in weeks.

Today was no different from any of the days before it. I awoke, lonely, and boiled the kettle for tea. I went into the village to join Alex for a look around the Crookshollow witchcraft museum, then I picked up some groceries and came back to the cabin. I settled myself down at my desk with a cup of tea and a box of Jaffa Cakes, and tried to muddle my way through the first red herring in my mystery.

Minutes turned into hours while my fingers flew over the keys. The story was starting to come together. I started to think I might be able to fix the main character with a few edits.

I was interrupted by a scuffling in the bushes outside the window.

My head snapped up. What’s that?

Something darted through the trees. It looked like a huge animal, the size of a dog. My heart pounded against my chest. Could it be … a wolf?

I stared out the window, searching the trees for any sign of movement. I don’t know how long I watched, it might’ve been hours. But there was nothing. Did I imagine it? Am I so desperate for Caleb that I’ve started seeing him everywhere?

Tears rolled down my cheeks. Damn, I thought I’d cried enough to flood the ocean already. I reached for my fifty-third box of tissues.

A knock at the door startled me from my thoughts.

I glanced out the window. It was Margaret. She was holding a bottle of wine and a teacake, her walking stick pressed hard against the porch. I flung open the door. “I thought you could use some company, dear,” she said, giving me a sympathetic grin.

Great. I was so pathetic, even an old lady felt sorry for me. I wiped my face with the back of my hand, hoping Margaret wouldn’t notice the tears. I didn’t really want any company, but what could I say?

Plus, a woman learns never to turn away free cake.

“Sure thing.” I plastered a smile on my face, and held open the door.

Margaret bustled inside, plopped herself down in the ruined chair, and flicked on the tiny TV I’d bought to help fill my days. She turned the volume way up. “Get us some plates, would you? And some glasses for the wine.”

I moved to the kitchen to find the things, while Margaret punched the volume on the TV up even higher.

“Have you read this month’s book club choice—” I started to say.

“Shush!” Margaret silenced me, gesturing to the TV. “Not during the news, love.”

She must really be getting deaf. That TV is up so loud, the walls are shaking.

I set down the glasses and poured the wine. On the TV, a round of adverts finished, and the news jingle started playing. Great, just what I wanted to see – murders and massacres all over the world. I cut myself an enormous slice of cake and settled back for an evening of grimacing.

“… in national news, a remarkable arson case in the small hamlet of Old Garsmouth was closed today—”

Old Garsmouth? I leaned forward, cake poised at my lips. The old familiar tight feeling in my chest returned. Why was my old town on the news?

“—where two men and a woman confessed to an arson attack on a local resident’s home. The arson at black resident Rosa Parker’s property five months ago had all the markings of a suspicious case, but no arrests had so far been made, with local police claiming lack of evidence. However, this week, three local residents have come forward to confess to the crime. We cross now to our local correspondent, who is standing outside police headquarters, where the suspects are being released on bail—”

I stared at the screen, my heart in my mouth. The footage was taken in front of the main station in Leeds, where a woman was being escorted inside through a small crowd of reporters snapping away. “Susan, just a few words!” one of them yelled.

Susan? Susan was one of the arsonists?

The news flashed to a press conference, where DI Martin – the officer in charge of my case – stood behind a lectern, flanked by supporters. “I’m pleased to announce that with this confession, we can officially close the door on this heinous crime. We’ll be charging all three suspects on multiple counts of arson and assault. Unfortunately, we haven’t been able to contact the victim, but we’re assured she will receive notice justice has been served.”

A reporter called out, “What made them confess?”

“We wouldn’t have been able to make this arrest without the help of Father Wolf,” Martin said, gesturing to a black-robed man standing behind him. The inspector stepped aside, and the camera zoomed in on the face of the priest. The man lifted his face, and looked directly at the camera.

My chest tightened. My heart thundered against my ribcage. My jaw froze.

It was Caleb.

I gasped, my whole body frozen. Margaret reached out and clasped my hand, her bony fingers squeezing mine.

“Father Wolf, a few words!” one of the reporters yelled out.

Caleb nodded, and stepped up to the podium. “I can take no credit for this result,” he said, his face serious. “For it is purely the work of the Lord. I was blessed to be able to administer to my flock by helping justice to be done. The village of Old Garsmouth has been very much divided in recent years. Too much hateful speech and petty vengeance for imagined slights. These three sinners asked for repentance for this crime, and I encouraged them to come forward, to cleanse their guilt by owning up to what they did to Rosa Parker.”

The camera flicked to another screen, where Susan, her teenage son Stanley, and one of Sam’s key advisors were shown in custody.

I can’t believe it. I leaned forward, my heart pounding. How is this possible? How did he get them to—

Someone knocked on the door. “Go away!” I yelled, my eyes glued to the TV.

“I think you want to answer that, dear,” Margaret said, dropping my hand.

I darted up and yanked open the door. There, standing on the porch, holding a giant bouquet of flowers and a box of Jaffa Cakes, was Caleb.

My knees wobbled. I couldn’t believe he was really there. I reached out a hand to stroke his cheek, almost expecting it to land in midair. My fingers connected with his skin, and a surge of energy leaped from his body, sizzling against my skin.

“You … “ I couldn’t form words. “You did …”

“Hey, Rosa.” The corner of his mouth tugged up into that beautiful grin, the grin that made the sun shine brighter. “Long time no see.”

“I can’t believe—” My knees buckled. I grabbed the edge of the door to keep from falling. Caleb darted forward and grabbed me, holding me against his broad chest. Heat swirled around us, and my skin burned with the fire of his touch. After all this time, I can’t believe he’s come. I can’t believe he did this for me.

My legs wobbled, and I gripped his arms, struggling to keep myself upright.

“Easy,” Caleb said, his husky voice like honey. “I wouldn’t want you to fall, now.”

“I can’t believe you did this.” I reached up to kiss him, but he pulled away.

“Rosa,” he said, holding his finger to my lips. “Before you make a decision about me, I need you to understand why I left.”

“You’re here now, and I don’t care—”

“You should care. So I’m going to tell you. You don’t need someone to protect you, but after we had that fight, I realised that was the only thing I was doing. I was treating you like a princess that had to be kept safe all the time, because I didn’t want you to ever have to be hurt the way they hurt you again. But in protecting you, I was smothering you. I wasn’t giving you the freedom you needed, because I was too afraid of losing you. I guess … you’ve seen the family I grew up with, and I think I carried around a lot more of that around with me then I realised. I had to leave because I had to find a way to show you that I didn’t want to be just your protector anymore. I want to be your partner, your mate.”

“You … you pretended to be a priest for two months in order to bring my arsonists to justice?”

Caleb nodded. “Let me tell you, those robes are damn uncomfortable.”

“I don’t know if I approve the way you made a mockery of the Lord’s servants, young man,” Margaret admonished him from her chair. “But I definitely approve of your results.”

I laughed. “So do I.”

Caleb stroked my hair. “All it took was a lot of prayer, and a few well-timed shifts, and a claw to the throat. They were very willing to repent and do the right thing, in the end. They’ve confessed to charges of stalking, harassment and destruction of property.”

“What?”

“They tracked you down here, supposedly to punish you some more. They were the ones sending you the texts, and they wrote the graffiti on the cabin wall. But enough about them. I’ve been going to a class.”

“A class?”

“Fundamentals of racial discourse through history.” He grinned. “I’ve been taking it online, which is just as well, because I’m the only white guy in the whole class and I ask a lot of stupid questions.”

The smile on my face widened as I imagined Caleb working his way through the course material, learning all about black history and colonialism and feminist rhetoric and white privilege. I can’t believe he’s doing that, for me.

“I’m starting to understand things, Rosa. I won’t say that I’ll always get it right, but I do want to understand. I guess … I wanted to come back to tell you that, and to say that I don’t expect you to ever forgive me, but if you did, I’d be here in a moment to—”

“Just stop. Stop talking.” I wrapped my arms around Caleb’s neck, and pressed my lips against his. My heart soared as his familiar scent enveloped me, and his tongue slid over mine. His strong arms around me fitted so perfectly. I never wanted to leave his embrace. I wanted to float forever in this perfect moment.

“I’ll just get out of your way, dearies.” Margaret grinned as she shoved past us, making her way through the door.

“Thanks for your help, Margaret!” Caleb called after her.

“Just pay your damn deposit on time, Caleb Lowe!” With that, she was gone.

“Deposit?”

“Yeah.” Caleb scratched the back of his head, looking slightly guilty. “We can talk about it later.”

I put my hands on my hips. “We’ll talk about it right now.”

“Well … when I called Margaret to get her to help me show you the news segment, she happened to mention that one of her tenants moved out last week. This particular tenant had one of Margaret’s deluxe cabins … you know, the kind with two downstairs rooms, and a mezzanine bedroom?”

“Yes…”

“She said she’d keep it aside for me, just in case …” His lips pressed against mine. “In case today went well.”

“Are you telling me that you were so sure I’d take you back that you paid for a new cabin?”

“I wasn’t sure at all. But a strong woman once taught me that when it comes to following your dreams, you have to be bold.”

I laughed, wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling him in tight for another explosive kiss. “It sounds like the perfect place for a mated pair to make their new home.”

He grinned that beautiful Caleb grin, and everything in the world seemed new and wonderful again. “It’ll be the perfect place to write books and raise cubs.”

“Cubs? Who said anything about cubs?”

“You don’t want kids?” He looked worried.

I drew him in again, my tongue darting against his. “I want everything you got, wolf-man.”’

* * *