Hair on the back of Aidan’s neck stood at attention. Okay, so maybe he wasn’t going anywhere, just yet.
“Fuck.”
He wanted to leave. Needed to find Raven. Needed to give her a piece of his mind.
Tell me to stay away from my own son. Deny him the right to be a father. He needed…
He needed…
He needed to stay put. At least until he got himself under control. If he went to Raven now, who knew what he’d do.
“Shit.” He kicked at the snow.
Last year he’d done the unthinkable. He and Sonya had gotten into a fight. A heated fight. He had lost his temper…and hit her. He’d never regretted doing anything more in his life. He’d watched his father hit his mother, beating her bloody. After his mother drank herself to death, his father had turned to him as a punching bag.
He’d lost his temper, just like his father had, hitting Sonya in a fit of rage. She’d promptly hit him back, knocking him on his ass, and broken off their relationship.
It had scared the shit out of him. He’d called a therapist, gotten into counseling, willing to do anything not to turn into Earl. He wished he could talk with Dr. Foster now.
But he had a fucking wolf barring his escape.
Aidan took another step forward, and the wolf bared his teeth again, its gums black, a sharp contrast to the gleaming white teeth. Its lips twisted as though to say, “Go ahead. Make my day.” There was no sound, the growl silent this time, and somehow, this act of aggression scared him worse.
“Fine. Have it your way.” Aidan backed up, keeping the wolf in his sights until he reached the cabin and let himself back in.
He yanked off his coat and tossed it onto the mess of the other junk littering the place.
What the hell did he do now?
Aidan stayed away from Raven for two days. It had taken him that long to cool down. His anger had gone a long way in helping him clean up Earl’s place. There was nothing like anger to fuel a project. While the place wasn’t actually comfortable, it was clean. He’d bagged up Earl’s clothes, those worth keeping, burned the others, and set aside what he needed to take to Fairbanks and donate to Good Will. There wasn’t much. Even in death, Earl didn’t have a lot to share.
The black wolf had continued to hang around, barring any chance of escape. It was the damnest thing.
God, he hoped he wasn’t hallucinating.
It was Monday morning, there was no sign of the wolf, and he was on his way to have it out with Raven. Weird that the wolf disappeared when Aidan had finally leashed the beast raging inside him. There was so much he had to do, and the wolf had literally kept him a prisoner. But he hadn’t the heart, or the desire, to shoot the animal.
Besides keeping Aidan from talking to Raven, the wolf had kept him from dropping off Earl’s stuff, and gathering supplies. He also needed to contact his editor and agent and let them know how he could be reached. He had no plans to leave Chatanika at the moment. If ever. Not with his son living here. He wasn’t going to uproot the kid and take him to Seattle unless Fox wanted to visit on vacation or something.
The things they could do together. Vacations, sports, fishing. The list was endless. He had so much time to make up. Time he’d never get back.
Raven had so much to answer for.
He parked in her driveway and headed toward the front door. The day had dawned, around ten-thirty, to a dismal gray, promising snow. As if they needed more. He knocked on her door, clamping down on his anger as it threatened to rage. He could do this. He could have a discussion with the woman who had lied to him, betrayed him for the last twelve years, without losing his temper. Being angry was one thing. His anger was justified. Losing control of that anger would be something he couldn’t allow.
He knocked again, thankful for the frigid, icy air. He peered around. Silence greeted him.
Don’t tell me she wasn’t home? Not when he had waited this long.
Wait a minute.
He walked toward the studio attached to the house by an enclosed walkway. Muffled music could be heard from inside the insulated building. He should have figured she’d be in her studio. He found the door and knocked. Waited.
Nothing.
Enough of this.
He tried the knob, and it turned easily in his hand. Heat greeted him, warm, beckoning. Deceptive. Music was next, the soul sounds of Marvin Gaye…and Raven’s off-key voice singing along. How dare she sing when his life was tied in knots with her lies? He followed her voice, breathing in the rich, musty smells of clay. Around a metal shelving unit full of drying pottery pieces, he found her sitting at the wheel, wearing worn, mud-covered overalls, her hair secured in a loose knot at the top of her head. Tendrils brushed her serene face. Her hands were working smoothly, rhythmically together, pulling up the walls of a large vessel. A vase, maybe. She stood and carefully lowered her arm inside the narrow opening, her arm disappearing to her elbow, all the while singing along with I Heard it Through the Grapevine. Fitting.