Page 48 of Taken By The Wolves (Blackwood Forest #2)

SCARLET

Ahya sleeps tucked into the crook of my body, small and warm and steady as a heartbeat. Downstairs, someone rinses a glass; the water runs, stops. The wind combs the trees. Pine and soap and woodsmoke drift through my enhanced senses.

I stare at my phone for a long time, the new wi-fi connection taunting me. I’ve been putting off calling her through all the craziness of the past days, but I know I need to make contact before she calls for a search party.

I sigh deeply, dreading the words she’ll most probably say. Come home. Don’t be crazy. You can’t possibly love three men. What do you mean you’re giving up your life to take care of someone else's child?

They’d all be valid concerns a mother would have for her daughter, but they’d all be wrong.

I’m not crazy for loving Nixon, Reed, and Finn. I’m not crazy for falling in love with a perfect child who needed arms to hold her and keep her safe. I’m not crazy for following a dream I’d given up thinking could be mine.

Now, I have to convince her.

I hit call.

Mom answers on the second ring, panting like she’s been carrying groceries up the stairs. “Scarlet? Are you okay?”

The worry permeating her voice makes my heart ache. I wish she could let go of all the anxiety she has around me living my life, for her and for me.

“I’m okay.” I swallow, eyes stinging. “I’m… actually really good.”

“What kind of good?”

“The best kind, Mom.” I exhale, and it shakes on the way out. “Mom, I have to tell you something.”

“That tone,” she says softly. “Go on.”

“I fell in love.” The words are huge and right. “In Braysville. And I’m… I’m staying.”

She lets out a surprised gasp. “Tell me about him,” she says, careful. “What’s his name?”

I press my mouth to Ahya’s curls. “It’s… not just a him.”

Another breath on her end. My mother has a talent for not making me defend myself before I’ve had a chance to explain. “Okay.”

“It’s three hims,” I say, choking on a laugh that’s half terror, half joy.

“Nixon. Reed. Finn. They’re brothers—” I search for the right shape, the truest one.

“They’re good men. The best kind. They run a lumberyard and build beautiful furniture.

Their cabin is in the forest, and we’re surrounded by the most beautiful trees.

It’s peaceful, and they love what I love… they see me… All of me.”

“Three,” she repeats, voice even. “Is this safe?”

“Yes.” I don’t let the word wobble. “I feel safer than I have in years. Not because they’re…

big and ridiculously strong—though they are—but because they protect me and listen.

They’re the best men I’ve ever met. And there’s a little girl, this baby, here who needs us.

I know you’re about to tell me to beware of strangers, and you’re not wrong.

I heard you in my head the whole time.” A huff of a laugh. “But they’re not strangers anymore.”

“A baby?” Her gasp is watery, and if I had any doubts that she would accept this, they fly out of the window. She knows how hard I grieved after my diagnosis, and how devastated I was to have to let my dreams of a family slip through my fingers.

“Ahya,” I say. “She’s got red hair like mine, and she’s the sweetest little thing. Hang on. I’ll send you a picture.”

I flick to my photo app and forward the picture to my mom. It’s of me, holding Ahya, a close up where I’m staring at her beautiful sleeping face.

“Oh, Scarlet.” My mother makes a sound I’ve heard in kitchens and car rides and doctor offices—when she changes gears from protection to support. “She’s gorgeous… and look at you.”

“She’s happy with me, Momma. She looks at me like I light up her world.”

“It’s the best, isn’t it?”

I smile at Ahya, holding her a little closer.

“Do they love you, baby?” Mom asks. “Do they put you first? Do they support your dreams? Do they make you feel like you can grow and thrive with them?”

“They do.” My throat gets tight. “I love them.”

“Okay,” she says again, and I can hear her smile now, thin but real. “Then I’m happy for you, baby.”

I bite my lip. “I’ll still need to come back and pack up my life. Tools. Contracts. The ugly chair I keep because it was my first commission.”

“You can take your grandmother’s quilt,” she says, practical through the emotion, like always. “And the muffin basket.”

“You’re giving me the muffin basket? I thought I was only getting that in your will.”

“Someone has to fill it with muffins,” she laughs. “Sugar isn’t my friend these days.” A pause. “When are you coming back?”

“After… some things settle here.” My voice dips.

I don’t tell her about the battle or the danger I was in.

I’d never hear the end of it. I can’t tell her about Nixon, Reed, and Finn and their true nature yet.

There will come a time when I’ll have to if I want her to be a grandmother to Ahya, but that’ll be up to my wolves to decide.

I won’t do anything to put their lives at risk.

“Maybe next week? Finn offered to drive me. He’s the artistic one. You’ll like him.”

“I’ll like all of them,” she says dryly, “if they keep my girl safe and treat her right.”

“They do.”

“And they understand I’ll have questions,” she adds. “Pointed ones. Over coffee.”

I smile into the dark. “Deal.”

“And Scarlet?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t care if it’s one or three or a whole basketball team as long as you sound like this.” Her voice goes slow and sure. “Happy. You sound happy, and that’s all I’ve ever wanted for you.”

I press my hand flat over my sternum, where a new kind of warmth blooms. “I am.”

“Then call me when you have dates. Will you bring the baby?”

“Maybe not this time. She’s still small,” I say.

“Okay, tell me their names again?”

“Nixon. Reed. Finn.”

“Okay,” she says. In the background, pen scratches against paper. My mother, making a list of my big, good wolves. “It’s late, baby. You should sleep. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

When I end the call, the house seems different, like I opened a window and allowed two worlds touch for the first time. I tuck the phone under my pillow and inhale a new calm. Downstairs, the water runs again. Somewhere outside, an owl calls.

“This is our home,” I whisper. “This is our home.”