The Affair

Chapter 17.2

William jolts awake, screaming. He thrashes in bed, shoulders rolling, sheets twisting around his legs until he slips off the edge. He hits the ground hard.

Tears pool around the corners of his eyes, some falling as he scans the room. No orange light outside, no wolf. Still, his heart thrums against his ribs, desperate to escape his chest.

Fallon wakes with a yelp, eyes wide as she finds him cowering on the floor.

"Mr. Reiner! What's wrong!?" she asks, turning the lamp on.

He doesn't recognize the voice, filtering into his ears off pitch. The noise startles him, sending him retreating against a dresser. His fingers fumble over the wood ridges at his back as he stammers—muttering small sounds, nothing coherent.

"Sir! Oh my god, what is it!? Talk to me!" Fallon cries, throwing off the blankets and leaping from the bed. She crawls to him, arms out, desperate to comfort him. But he yelps at her touch.

"It's me. Fallon... I'm here. You're okay..." she soothes.

Tears trail down William's cheek as he turns to her.

"F-Fallon?"

"Yes... It's me, sir... Come to me."

He blinks at her, jaw clenching against his will as air shivers through his teeth. Again, Fallon beckons, shuffling forward another inch. She smiles at him, arms out and ready to encircle him. It's a peaceful sight. His mind settles, caught in a memory of his mother holding him some time long ago.

He sinks into her, feeling her heat against his cheek. Her heart thumps with a gentle rhythm, coaxing him further from his anxiety. But images of the nightmare are fresh.

The black wolf. The voice in his ear. His girls burning.

Minutes pass without words. Fallon rocks him, humming her song with delightful pitch. He sighs, at ease but still haunted.

"Mr. Reiner, tell me what's wrong," she asks as he retreats from her.

He takes his phone from the nightstand, noting the time: 3:34am. Late, but normal. Thank God.

Fallon looks over, watching him scroll through his recent calls.

"Sir?"

"Hush, darling... I need to make a call."

"But it's so late... w-who are you gonna call?"

William waves her off. "Fallon, please. I need you to be quiet right now."

"Can I... make us some tea at least?"

He glares at her as his thumb taps the screen. His phone dims as the first dial tone hums. Slowly, he brings it to his ear.

"Fine, make tea..." he says, flustered energy switching to anger. "Now I mean it. Not another word..."

Her lips roll as she bows her head, nodding under his scrutiny. The phone rings on as he strides through the hall into the living room. Fallon follows, keeping quiet. He veers right, pacing along the sofa sectional, leaving her to step into the kitchen.

The phone rings and rings until it cuts to voicemail. He sighs, hanging up and calling once more. In the kitchen, Fallon searches the cabinets for a tea kettle. She crouches as she covers the bottom ones, coming up empty. Above the stovetop are a few more, though beyond a comfortable reach.

She can hear his voice from the living room, speaking his wife's name into the phone. That makes her cringe. Ignoring whatever comes next, she opens the doors and looks around. Sure enough, a stainless-steel kettle rests on the top shelf. Her tongue peeks from her lips as she rises on her tiptoes, fingers barely able to brush the handle.