Page 116 of Haunt Me

“Did I say something wrong?”

“No.” He won’t even look at me now. “It’s not you.”

He’s already walking away before I can ask what that means, out through the side door into the parking lot. I don’t even think about staying behind. I go after him.

“Hey.” I catch up to him near his truck, gravel crunching under both our feet. “Wolf, wait.”

He stops but doesn’t turn around right away. Shoulders rigid, hands braced on the tailgate like he needs it to hold him up. He turns finally, and the look on his face stops the question in my throat. It’s raw. Something that looks a lot like a man standing at the edge of a decision he already knows he’s going to regret.

“You should go back inside.”

“I don’t want to go back inside.”

“Astra—”

“Wolf.” I step closer instead of backing off, some reckless part of me refusing to let him retreat behind whatever wall just went up. “Talk to me.”

He doesn’t. He kisses me instead, sudden and rough.

I kiss him back without thinking twice about it. His hand comes up to cradle my jaw.

For one perfect, suspended second, nothing else exists.

Then he pulls back, breathing hard, like he’s been burned. He puts distance between us so fast I almost stumble.

“Fuck.” He turns away and presses the heels of his hands against his eyes, like he’s trying to make the last thirty seconds disappear. “That was a mistake.”

“Don’t say that, Wolf⁠—”

“Samuel.” He says it low, almost like a confession. “My name’s Samuel.”

All of the pieces click into place at once. Jon’s daughter. Knox’s sister.

“You’re her husband,” I say, barely audible.

He goes very still.

Neither of us says anything for a long moment. The parking lot is quiet except for the muffled bass still thumping from inside the bar. The summer night does nothing to cool whatever’s still burning under my skin from the kiss.

“I have to go,” he says finally, his voice hollow.

He doesn’t wait for me to answer before he’s climbing into his truck. The engine turns over, and then he’s gone. The taillights disappear down the road.

I stand there a long time after, my arms wrapped around myself, replaying every second of it. The kiss. His name. The way his whole face changed when I put it all together.

I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with any of this.

I just know his mouth on mine is the only thing that made sense, even for a second.

Samuel

I don’t remember the drive back to the clubhouse. My hands do the work of driving while the rest of me stayed frozen in that parking lot, her mouth still ghosting against mine like it never actually let go.

You’re her husband.

It’s on a loop in my mind, over and over, worse each time.

I pull in crooked outside the clubhouse and don’t bother to straighten it. I don’t bother with much of anything except getting inside before whatever’s about to crack open in my chest finishes the job out in the open where anyone can see.