I Faked My Death, and the Alpha at My Grave Has Lost His Wolf novel · Chapter 18 of 24

Chapter 18: The Night Before

Anton's POV

She came up the loft stairs on Sunday night with a covered dish in both hands and a jar of plum jam under her arm.

I heard the stairs, because I listen for them.

I do not smell anything coming, and I have learned to hear.

"Babi sent supper," Zora said. "And a message."

"What's the message?"

"Eat it, or she'll come and watch you."

I laughed, and took the dish.

It was a sausage and sauerkraut supper, still hot, and a whole poppyseed roll.

We ate it on the cot with the space heater going and the sale ring dark below the window.

Tomorrow was Epiphany.

She did not talk about it, and I was grateful.

She told me instead about the postmaster.

He had sent her a card that said, in a very steady hand, WELCOME BACK, YOU OWE ME A FORM.

I told her what a Hereford heifer had fetched on Friday.

She laughed in the right places.

I watched her hands while she did it, and they were loose and easy in her lap.

When the dish was empty she set it on the floor and turned on the cot to face me.

"Tell me about the fire," she said.

I had told it to nobody.

Frank knew it, because Frank had been in it.

The doctors had known the burn but not the rest.

"Now?" I said.

"Now. You've told forty porches you lost it. I'd like to hear how."

She took my left wrist and laid it across her knee, and put her fingers on the scar.

I looked at her hand on it.

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