Page 90 of Tracking Wolfe

“Fuck,” I choked as soon as the shaking warmth of him was solidly in my arms. “Fuck.”

His arms snaked around my neck, and he tucked his cold nose under my chin. “I knew you’d find me.” His voice was muffled against my wet skin, but it was enough for me to close my eyes in gratitude.

Those words were the greatest accomplishment of my life.

“Always,” I choked out, hoping it was true. “Always.”

“I fucked up, Trace.”

“No, you didn’t,” I said firmly. “This isn’t on you.”

“It is. I trusted Jake. I went with him today. And he…” His voice choked off.

“Did he hurt you?” I demanded, pulling back to assess him again. “Did he try to⁠—?”

Wolfe seemed to understand what I was asking, and he shook his head. “N-no. No. But we argued. And he… he left me up there. I hurt my ankle. Slipped and tweaked it on the way down. Everything else is just…” He hiccuped. “Mud and stuff.”

Which was why he’d been fucking crawling down the trail.

I wanted to commit murder.

In fact, I wondered if it was possible to get away with it in this tiny town that didn’t even seem to have a law enforcement presence.

But I needed to focus on Wolfe. He was trembling, probably from a combination of cold and fear. I didn’t want to take the risk that it would turn into shock.

With the help of my first aid supplies and the headlamp, I assessed the ankle, deciding to keep it laced tightly in his boot rather than remove the boot and wrap it. Once he was ready to go, I quickly texted my SaR contacts with an update.

“Where’s Jake now?” Wolfe demanded. “Is his truck at the trailhead? Is he… is he coming back?”

“No. His truck is gone. He went home at some point and spoke to Shay, but I have no idea where he is right now.”

But given how terrified Wolfe sounded, I sincerely fucking hoped Jake didn’t appear in front of me anytime soon. I wouldn’t be responsible for my actions.

“Okay.” Wolfe nodded to himself. “Good.”

I was desperate to ask him what had happened, to pepper him with detailed questions until I knew every minute of his day up till now. But I forced myself to focus on getting him someplace warm and dry first. And safe.

“Let’s get you to the car so we can get you warmed up.” I texted Clay an update, then stood, pulling Wolfe up onto his one good leg. “We’ll try assisted walking. If that doesn’t work, we’ll try something else.”

I explained how it worked, pulling his arm over my shoulders and wrapping mine around his waist.

“Good foot first,” I reminded him quietly. “Then bad. That’s it. Don’t rush it.”

After a tentative first few steps, Wolfe hissed when his boot slid against a rock, fingers tightening convulsively against my jacket.

I shifted closer automatically, taking more of his weight before Wolfe could even ask. “Easy. We’re not in a hurry.”

“It’s cold as fuck,” he snapped. “You might not be in a hurry, but I am.”

His angry tone was coming from his fear, so I did my best to remain patient as we picked our way down the slippery trail.

“Want to tell me what happened?” I asked after a few minutes of silence. “What you argued about?”

Wolfe blew out a breath. “Not really.”

I tried to be patient, but I understood why he’d responded that way. “What if I promise not to freak out?”

He huffed. “Would you mean it?”