CHAPTER ONE

 

TAYLOR

​

I draw in a deep breath of the crisp mountain air, savoring the scent of pine that drifts through the open window. I welcome the brilliant sunshine that streams through the windshield, closing my eyes for a moment and feeling the warmth seep into my bones.

​

The car vibrates beneath me as I idle at the crossroads, wondering which direction to turn. Left or right.

​

I wish my life was always filled with such easy decisions.

​

A headache thrums behind my eyes and has become my constant companion of late. Sighing, I dig through my purse and find the bottle of aspirin. I take two and swallow them down with a large sip of water from my bottle in the console beside me.

​

I twist the ring my grandmother gave me. It’s an old family heirloom that she’d always promised would be mine one day, and when she passed not so long ago, Mom made sure it was given to me. A little symbol is etched into the gold and set between sparkling emeralds. I don’t recognize the symbol, but the ring reminds me of her. Soothing and calm and comforting. The very thing I need lately.

​

So, left or right.

​

Decision, decisions.

​

I glance to the mountains on my right. At the distant snowy peaks, and the carpet of lush pine that coats the rises and valleys of the land. It’s stunning. My leg twitches in anticipation of finding a hiking trail and losing myself in the fresh forest and the pull in my gut insists I yank the wheel to the right and drive up the narrow road that twists into the forest.

​

So I do.

​

I literally have nothing to lose and everything to gain. The next two weeks are mine to forget about my diagnosis of aplastic anemia. Everyone at the non-profit environmentalist organization I work for understands. They've been nothing but supportive even though my absence puts extra strain on their already busy workloads.

​

I hope I get to work there for a few more weeks when I get back before I have to leave permanently. But who knows if I’ll be able to do even that?

I hardly recognize my face as I stare at my pallid reflection in the rearview mirror. I'm not used to seeing my body so frail. The doctors warned me the anemia would get worse. I’m still struggling to accept their grim words. The truth is, no one knows how long I have left.

​

They don't understand why I'm not responding to treatment, why my case defies all typical patterns. All they know is that without some miracle cure, some treatment plan they have yet to uncover, my health and lifespan is significantly impacted.

​

The weight of that reality threatens to crush me, but I can't let it. I didn’t think at twenty eight that my bucket list would be an actual list and not just a vague concept, but that’s life for you.

​

So, here I am ticking off number one from my list. Visit the Sawtooth Range in Idaho. Find some nature paths off the beaten track and forget reality for a few days. Hope to hell I can walk a few miles without needing to backtrack through exhaustion.

​

It could be a stupid move venturing out here alone while I'm this ill, but I can't bring myself to care. I’ll be confined to a hospital bed soon enough. I want a view to remember that I can superimpose on the four white walls that will be the last thing I see.

​

A pang of guilt twists in my chest as I think of my parents, the devastation my not being here will inevitably bring them. As an only child, I'm the entire world to them, the apple of their eye after years of struggling to conceive. My mother always dreamed of a large family, a dream that never eventuated, but they've never failed to support my passion for wildlife conservation, encouraging me to make a difference in this world, no matter how small.

I love them with every fiber of my being and the thought of leaving them behind is almost more than I can bear.

​

I can't let that stop me, not now.

​

I have to have the courage to live before I'm forced to die.

​

I guide the car up the narrow road and let my worries fall away with every twist and turn. A deep ravine stretches down on my right, while the shrubs and tall pines stretch to the sky on my left. I drive for a couple of hours, guiding my car around each sharp turn, losing myself in the driving.

​

The air grows crisp the higher I climb. This is the perfect weather for hiking. I’ll enjoy taking what walks I’m able to navigate while I can. When I get back, I’ll have to get my house in order for sale. Get my Will and other legalities sorted before I’m forced to give up my independence and rely on Mom and Dad. Before I force them to watch me fade.

​

Furiously brushing away fresh tears that have begun to fall, I force my mind from those dark thoughts. I'm here to make memories, to experience everything this world has to offer before it's torn from me. I refuse to let my illness taint this adventure, no matter how impossible that may seem.

The scenery is breathtaking and I'm grateful for the solitude, for the chance to simply exist in this moment without the weight of pity and sorrow that so often clouds everyone's eyes. It’s so remote out here, and I love it.

​

I hope I’ll find a camping ground, but even if I don’t, I have all the camping gear I need stowed in the trunk. I'll be just fine on my own out here in the wilderness for a few days.

​

I don’t expect the “Welcome to Willowbrook” sign written in elegant white script against a shining red background that emerges from the forest. There’s a town out here? That’s strange. There wasn’t one marked on the map, but maybe I missed it. As I pass the sign, a crackle of electricity dances across my skin, but it's gone as quickly as it arose, leaving me to wonder if it was simply my imagination.

​

Several miles, and twists and turns of the road later, the trees part to reveal the most beautiful little village I've ever laid eyes on, nestled in a pristine valley. The quaint town envelops me as I drive down the main street, taking in the quiet charm and meticulously maintained 1950s-style buildings. People amble along the sidewalks, greeting one another with friendly waves and easy smiles. I can't help but notice the peculiar theme to the business names… The Paws N' Claws Pet Emporium, The Moonlight Café, The Luna Lounge, The Wolf Den Hardware Store. It seems the townsfolk have a particular affinity for all things lupine.

​

Quirky, but I find myself charmed by the eccentricity of it all. As I navigate the quiet streets, I can feel the curious gazes of the locals upon me, no doubt wondering about the stranger with the out-of-state license plate. But there's no hostility in their eyes, only a gentle curiosity that sets me at ease.

The rumbling of my empty stomach draws my attention to a retro restaurant, the glowing red neon of “Sally's Diner” beckoning me inside. Through the wide front windows, I catch glimpses of patrons chatting over plates of food. It looks welcoming and hospitable. Surely I can find something my rebelling stomach can tolerate here, even if it's just a simple cup of coffee.

Through the large windows my gaze lands on an extremely handsome man seated by the window. There's something effortlessly rugged about him, from the weathered tan of his skin to the sexy stubble lining his chiseled jaw. His sandy blond waves are tousled in that perfectly imperfect way, and when he laughs at something one of his companions–an older woman–says, I feel an unexpected flutter in the pit of my stomach.

​

It's a strange, unfamiliar sensation, one I haven't experienced in longer than I can recall. Yet here I am, undeniably affected by this stranger's unassuming masculinity. As well as the older woman, he's seated with an older man plus a beautiful woman around his age, and a pang of misplaced jealousy lances through me. She must be his wife.

​

As I try to shake off these misplaced feelings, I can't help but marvel at the fact that I'm still capable of them at all. When my life dissolved into hospital visits and treatment plans, I forgot what the spark of attraction felt like.

​

A wave of dizziness assails me as I exit my car, but it passes as quickly as it rose. I gather my purse and ensure the vehicle is secured before ascending the four steps to the diner's entrance. The merry tinkle of a bell announces my arrival, and an odd hush falls over the previously lively establishment as I step into the foyer area.

​

I'm immediately greeted by a smiling, middle-aged woman with shoulder-length chestnut hair. There's something innately welcoming about her warm demeanor that puts me at ease despite the abrupt silence.

​

“Welcome to my diner,” she says, introducing herself as Sally. “Would you like a booth, hon?”

​

Mustering a polite smile, I accept her offer, though the mouthwatering scents of greasy diner fare are already churning my rebelling stomach uncomfortably. A sheen of perspiration breaks out across my brow, but I'm certain that if I can just sit down, the nausea will pass.

​

I only make it two steps before the room starts spinning, my knees buckling as the darkness closes in. In those final moments of consciousness, I'm vaguely aware of the handsome stranger launching himself from his seat, features etched in stricken concern as he rushes toward me. Then, everything goes black.

​

READ WOLF CHOSEN TODAY