hand tightened. “You can and you will. Now go away. You’re worrying yourself sick, and that’ll make me sicker. I want to see what’s happening on General Hospital. I haven’t watched it in years.” And then she acted like Rylie and Seth no longer existed.
Rylie couldn’t feel the floor beneath her feet as she drifted into the hallway. The sights and smells and sounds of the hospital were distant and meaningless.
She didn’t realize she was chewing on her thumb again until Seth grabbed her.
“I’ll call Abel. Don’t eat your hand while I’m gone,” he said, pulling out his cell phone and heading outside.
Rylie watched the ripped skin around her nail heal in a daze.
The blood was gone as soon as she wiped it on her jeans, but it planted the seed of an idea that stuck. AIDS was a disease that meant Gwyn couldn’t heal. Rylie healed better and faster than any human—she could fix any injury that wasn’t inflicted by silver.
What would happen if she turned Gwyn into a werewolf?
Thirteen
Suspicion
Seth stepped out of Rylie’s bedroom and shut the door silently behind him. He didn’t have to be quiet. She had been asleep the instant he lay her in bed and brushed a kiss on her cheek. She hadn’t even gotten out of her sweater.
He sat on the stoop outside. Icicles dripped onto puddles of frost around the porch, and the chair crunched with ice when he sank into it. The cold seeped into his jeans.
Leaning his elbows on his knees, he stared out at the fields, and the dark shape of his brother at work.
Seeing Gwyn in the hospital disturbed him, but not half as much as the news report. He kept rereading the coroner’s reports he had copied and thinking of what Rylie said about the murders—that maybe they had trusted their killer.
Abel was herding the cattle into the barn. He used the ATV to do it instead of a horse.
Seth couldn’t remember the last time he saw his brother on horseback.
“It can’t be,” he murmured.
His brother was a lot of things. Brutal, occasionally cruel, intense. But was he a murderer?
Seth saw Rylie’s favorite horse wandering outside the fence and went down to catch him. Butch was still saddled. He caught the horse’s bridle and guided him to the stables, keeping Abel in the corner of his eye. He rode around the perimeter of the herd, bellowing occasionally to keep them in line.
It was warm inside the stables, and it smelled like hay and manure. Seth removed Butch’s tack, hung the saddle on a post, and brushed him down.
“How is she?”
His hand paused mid-brush. Seth glanced over his shoulder to see Abel dismounting the ATV outside the door. The other horses nickered softly.
“She’s going to be in the hospital a couple days,” Seth said. When Butch huffed and shifted, he resumed brushing. “Sounds like a pretty bad cold.”
Abel came inside, shoved the door shut, and pulled off his scarf. Had his scars healed around the edges? He didn’t look as mangled as before. “What about Rylie?”
“What about her?”
“You know... how’s she taking it?”
Seth set down the brush. Butch ambled into his stall without being prompted, sticking his nose into the trough.
“Why do you care?” he asked, folding his arms.
Abel gave a short laugh. “What—can’t I be worried?”
“You don’t even like Rylie,” Seth said.
It took his brother a heartbeat too long to reply. “Yeah. Right.” He grabbed a shovel. “Stalls need to be mucked. Let’s get it done.”
They worked together in silence, filling a wheelbarrow with horse manure. It would be composted later and used to fertilize the orchard when spring came around, but that didn’t make it any more pleasant to handle.
Even though it was freezing outside, shoveling brought Seth to a hard sweat in minutes. He stripped his jacket and threw it on the saddle. Abel followed suit. “Is there something you want to tell me?” Seth asked, keeping his focus on the soiled hay. It was hard not to sound
Rylie couldn’t feel the floor beneath her feet as she drifted into the hallway. The sights and smells and sounds of the hospital were distant and meaningless.
She didn’t realize she was chewing on her thumb again until Seth grabbed her.
“I’ll call Abel. Don’t eat your hand while I’m gone,” he said, pulling out his cell phone and heading outside.
Rylie watched the ripped skin around her nail heal in a daze.
The blood was gone as soon as she wiped it on her jeans, but it planted the seed of an idea that stuck. AIDS was a disease that meant Gwyn couldn’t heal. Rylie healed better and faster than any human—she could fix any injury that wasn’t inflicted by silver.
What would happen if she turned Gwyn into a werewolf?
Thirteen
Suspicion
Seth stepped out of Rylie’s bedroom and shut the door silently behind him. He didn’t have to be quiet. She had been asleep the instant he lay her in bed and brushed a kiss on her cheek. She hadn’t even gotten out of her sweater.
He sat on the stoop outside. Icicles dripped onto puddles of frost around the porch, and the chair crunched with ice when he sank into it. The cold seeped into his jeans.
Leaning his elbows on his knees, he stared out at the fields, and the dark shape of his brother at work.
Seeing Gwyn in the hospital disturbed him, but not half as much as the news report. He kept rereading the coroner’s reports he had copied and thinking of what Rylie said about the murders—that maybe they had trusted their killer.
Abel was herding the cattle into the barn. He used the ATV to do it instead of a horse.
Seth couldn’t remember the last time he saw his brother on horseback.
“It can’t be,” he murmured.
His brother was a lot of things. Brutal, occasionally cruel, intense. But was he a murderer?
Seth saw Rylie’s favorite horse wandering outside the fence and went down to catch him. Butch was still saddled. He caught the horse’s bridle and guided him to the stables, keeping Abel in the corner of his eye. He rode around the perimeter of the herd, bellowing occasionally to keep them in line.
It was warm inside the stables, and it smelled like hay and manure. Seth removed Butch’s tack, hung the saddle on a post, and brushed him down.
“How is she?”
His hand paused mid-brush. Seth glanced over his shoulder to see Abel dismounting the ATV outside the door. The other horses nickered softly.
“She’s going to be in the hospital a couple days,” Seth said. When Butch huffed and shifted, he resumed brushing. “Sounds like a pretty bad cold.”
Abel came inside, shoved the door shut, and pulled off his scarf. Had his scars healed around the edges? He didn’t look as mangled as before. “What about Rylie?”
“What about her?”
“You know... how’s she taking it?”
Seth set down the brush. Butch ambled into his stall without being prompted, sticking his nose into the trough.
“Why do you care?” he asked, folding his arms.
Abel gave a short laugh. “What—can’t I be worried?”
“You don’t even like Rylie,” Seth said.
It took his brother a heartbeat too long to reply. “Yeah. Right.” He grabbed a shovel. “Stalls need to be mucked. Let’s get it done.”
They worked together in silence, filling a wheelbarrow with horse manure. It would be composted later and used to fertilize the orchard when spring came around, but that didn’t make it any more pleasant to handle.
Even though it was freezing outside, shoveling brought Seth to a hard sweat in minutes. He stripped his jacket and threw it on the saddle. Abel followed suit. “Is there something you want to tell me?” Seth asked, keeping his focus on the soiled hay. It was hard not to sound
Similar Books
Deadly Affair: SCVC Taskforce World Novella (SCVC Taskforce Romantic Suspense Series Book 5)
Misty Evans, Amy Manemann
