His Little One (Book 1)

8 Wolf Horrors

One month later, Whittier, Alaska (Late August)

My feet soak in the water, the small town is bustling in preparation for the harsh winter months that are to come. Boats fill the dock, some stranded out in the middle with a long tether tying it to the floating dock. A tower of apartments sits on one side of the town, most of the residents live within it. It's an interesting concept, a church, post, and corner store all location in one building. Even the hospital has a setup, the rest being packed with the residents. Only one way in and out of the town, a small tunnel that has a train which comes a few times a week, or a car. However, it closes at night so getting stranded is highly likely. My basket of goods sits at my hip fruits spilling over the sides. Slate made sure to get me into one of the most remote places in Alaska so I could think. And thinking is really all I've done. He sent me off with the next few volumes, and when I've finished, I mail it back for him to send me the neck.

During the work weeks I take detailed photos of the wildlife, and vegetation. I've even begun taking photos of Whittier itself to inspire more tourist as a side gig. Not that I need it, but it's a distraction from the sadness that racks my heart. Slate avoids talking about Theo, and Carter, but he'll share every detail he can about Syd and Abigail, as well as their newest baby Michael. He's a total heart breaker, his cheeks just perfect for pinching. I smile at the thought of one day meeting the little guy, but for now the photos of Slate absolutely enamored with his kids is enough to satisfy. My hand splays over my belly thoughts of my own future pregnancy nagging at my head. Kids are popular in Whittier, surprisingly and watching them interact with their parents was enough to convince me that I do want children. Theo spoke of as many as I could give him, and now I see why. Their little hearts of endless love smiling up at you would be enough to make me want another.

The rush of water when I remove my feet yanks me from my thoughts. A couple boat workers wave at me when I pass down the docks attempting to keep my balance on the rocking docks. A familiar brunette sticks her head out of her shop waving me into the store, "How are you doing today?"

"Hey, Chasity. How are you?" I mumble grabbing at a couple tourist buys then dropping them back. A wind chime catches my attention, my fingers ringing through it to hear the beautiful clinks that rush through the store. She pulls me to the front with her classic smile.

"Those photos you took of the docks, revolutionary! I can't believe how talented you are!" She gushes. I've grown close to Chasity. She was the first one to force me out in public one evening and after that she demands me to be her friend. I'm much quieter than her in conversation, but she doesn't mind. She always has something to say. My shoulders lift and fall in response. I don't mind the extra work, but it's weird to be some type of idol to them. I have people everywhere stop me and compliment my work, when I tell them not to thank me, they snort and offer me a service to compensate. Rather weird when I'm already being compensated, "Oh! Eos, can't you have one moment of selfishness and agree? The whole town loves you. You've brought in some new faces in the past week already, some complimenting the marketing that you contributed to."

Whittier is a dying down. With an average of twenty feet of snow fall a year and everyone basically living under the same roof it's lost its appeal to most of the independent world. Slate organized a home for me just outside the city limits and up the mountain. A long driveway curls up to my home, a perfect hike that gets me working. It's a simple buy, a two-story home with an upper patio. A two-car garage sits on the first floor with everything else on the second. My view of the water is stunning and the first thing I purchased was a rocking chair to enjoy the view while I sip my coffee with milk.

"Thanks, then."

"You know, we are having a party at the bar, will you be joining?" The bar. The only one in town. It's open twenty-four-seven three-hundred and sixty-five days a year, "We'd really like to see you."