Moonlit Malfunction

Hey besties 🐺✨

Just popping in to say that Wolves Don’t Run: Part 2 — Chapter 2 is coming out in the next few days! I’ve been working on it for a couple of weeks, and it's almost ready to go!!

Expect:

Rooftop trauma doctor angst.

Robby being a magical giant.

And a cliffhanger that will personally punch you in the throat.

Here is a little sneak peek :)

Monday morning crept in quietly, pale light slipping through the blinds of the downstairs guest room — the temporary space Robby had turned into “Charlie’s room 2.0.” Her framed posters were hung up, her favorite blanket was draped over the bed, and her desk had been squeezed into the corner so she could do Zoom classes without climbing stairs.

She wasn’t supposed to go up or down without help. Which meant she was very much not supposed to be doing what she was doing now. At 6 AM — three full hours before her AP Calculus Zoom — Charlie was in the kitchen, wobbling on her crutches, attempting to make breakfast.

The downstairs shower was running; Robby was getting ready for the half‑shift he promised Dr. Al‑Hashimi he’d cover. She had something personal to take care of, and Robby had immediately said, “Of course, I’ve got you,” because that’s exactly the kind of man he was.

Charlie, meanwhile, was trying to flip an omelet like she had two fully functioning legs and not one injured one and one that was basically a decorative attachment. The crutches were tucked under her arms making it a little difficult to hold the pan and flip the eggs.

“Stay together,” she whispered to the eggs.

The eggs did not stay together. They folded, tore, and slid into a sad, lumpy pile.

Charlie groaned. “Guess we’re having scrambled eggs instead.”

She tried to adjust her stance, but her crutch slipped a little on the tile, and she had to grab the counter to steady herself. She froze, listening — the shower was still running. Good. She had time to salvage this.

She wanted to do something nice. Her Dad had been doing everything for her for weeks — cooking, cleaning, helping her shower, helping her dress, helping her get to the bathroom, helping her exist. Covering a shift for someone on top of that felt like too much. She wanted to give him something back. Even if it was just breakfast. Even if it was terrible.

The bathroom door opened down the hall. Charlie straightened so fast she nearly toppled over.

Robby walked into the kitchen, towel around his neck, hair damp. He stopped dead.

Charlie smiled like she hadn’t just risked a fall for scrambled eggs. “Morning.”

“What are you doing?”

“Making breakfast,” she said, as if this were a normal, safe, medically approved activity.

“On crutches?”

“I’m ambidextrous,” she said confidently.

“That’s not what that means. You know that's not what that means."

She huffed. “I wanted to do something nice for you.”

Robby’s face softened instantly.

He crossed the kitchen, gently took the spatula from her hand, and kissed the top of her head.

“You trying is nice,” he said. “You not breaking your neck is nicer.”

“Wow. Hurtful.”

“True,” he said, turning the stove down. “Even if hurtful.”

Charlie lowered herself into a chair — carefully, because her arms were already tired — and watched him take over the pan. The kitchen filled with the warm smell of eggs and toast

Robby plated the eggs — the scrambled eggs, because the omelet had died a noble death — and slid a plate in front of her before grabbing one for himself. He sat across from her at the small kitchen table, the early morning light catching in the silver strands at his temples.

“Alright,” he said, “give me your schedule.”

Charlie stabbed a piece of egg. “AP Calc at nine. APUSH at eleven. Bio at two. And a bunch of Google Classroom stuff in between.”

“That’s basically a full day.”

“Yeah,” she said. “Just… without the stairs. Or the hallways. Or the cafeteria. Or the people. Or the noise.”

"So, a better version." Robby said.

She snorted. “Honestly? Kind of.”

He smiled into his mug. “I’ll be back around one. Covering for Dr. Al‑Hashimi until then.”

Charlie nodded. “Tell her thanks again. For… y’know. Everything.”

“I will.” He hesitated, then added, “I’m also going to talk to Dr. Marquez today. See if we can get you in sooner.”

Charlie’s fork paused mid‑air. “For… the meds?”

“Only if you’re ready,” he said gently. “You said you wanted to talk to her. I just don’t want you waiting weeks.”

Charlie looked down at her plate, pushing a piece of egg around with her fork. “Yeah. I… I think I want that.”

Robby reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “Good. One step at a time.”

She nodded, swallowing around the lump in her throat. “One step.”

They ate in comfortable silence for a moment —The kitchen felt warm. Safe. Normal in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time.

Robby glanced at the clock. “I’ve got about ten minutes before I need to head out. Do you need anything before I go?”

Charlie shook her head. “I’m good. I’ll probably work on some assignments and then log into Calc early and pretend I understand derivatives.”

“You do understand derivatives.”

“I understand them in theory,” she said. “In practice? They bully me.”

Robby laughed. “You’ll be fine.”

This week, my original novel July Again kind of took over my brain in the best and hardest way. It’s a project I’ve been working on for over a year now as part of my grief therapy. I don’t talk about this much on here, but I lost my little brother Jesse almost four years ago in a sudden car accident. We believe he fell asleep at the wheel driving late at night and he collided with a Semi. He was only 26. It changed everything about me, and writing has been one of the only things that’s helped me keep moving.

July Again is tied deeply into that healing process, so when the muse hits for it, I follow it.

As for AO3 updates: Next on my list is The Wildflower and The Wolf (my Titus Danforth x OC fic), but I want to be honest — the muse for that story just isn’t with me right now. I never want to force writing, because if I do, I’ll hate it and you’ll hate it and nobody wins. I’ve always followed my muse, and I’m sticking to that.

The good news is: My Pitt muse is ALIVE AND WELL. So I’ll be diving back into Wolves Don’t Run – Part 2 very soon.

Thank you for being patient with me and for reading anything I create. Truly. I'm including a picture of the cover I made with Canva and a description of my novel, July Again, also a picture of my little brother Jesse and my memorial tattoo I got shortly after he passed. <3 Love you all. 🌙💛 Haley

July Again: Grief doesn’t pass. It returns.

Rhiannon Reed was a rising fraud analyst in Strathport, Maine—until her younger brother Cal died in a tragic accident on Bracken Isle, the small island town where they grew up. In the months after Cal’s death, Rhiannon’s grief‑stricken brain refuses to keep up with Northstar Bank’s high demands, and she’s let go. She moves back to Bracken Isle, becoming her best friend Colin’s roommate.

But grief doesn’t stay buried. Three years later, her life has unraveled. Once again fired, Rhiannon cracks—and sees Cal in the bathroom mirror. What begins as a breakdown becomes something stranger: visions, hauntings, and a past that won’t let go.

After she’s fired from the bar, her father offers her a job at the island’s hardware store. It’s there, behind the register and stacks of lumber, that she meets Jeff—a southern transplant with a quiet strength and a long way from home. They start as coworkers. Then friends with the possibility of something more. Jeff doesn’t fix her. But he listens. He stays. He becomes part of the ritual of survival. July Again slips between the summer of 2022 and the fall of 2025, tracing the days after Cal’s death and the slow collapse that follows. A funeral home. A missing pair of glasses. A razorblade. A ghost who won’t stay gone.

With Colin by her side, Cal’s voice echoing through the shadows, and Jeff’s steady presence in the lumber aisle, Rhiannon must decide whether survival means letting go—or finally facing what July left behind.

A raw, emotionally charged debut about grief, madness, and the love that lingers after death.

I told y’all Chapter 5 would be out today… and then my body said “lol no” after the all‑nighter/all‑dayer I pulled to finish writing it. 😭

I might get the final edits done after work tonight (I get off at midnight), but realistically? It’s looking more like Wednesday will be the actual day that I have it ready to publish!

A zoo trip becomes a turning point for Robby and Wren — full of small victories, gentle moments, and new trust. But just as the day settles into something perfect, chaos finds them.

Tonight I’m finishing the final edits on Chapter 4 of The Missing Piece so I can publish it tomorrow morning/afternoon.

This chapter got away from me a little (we’re sitting at just over 9k words… I’m so sorry but also not sorry). I got carried away writing Wren and Robby’s zoo day — so much so that I had to split the chapter in two and end Chapter 4 on a cliffhanger. Chapter 5 will pick up the rest of the zoo day.

Because I know a lot of you have been waiting a hot minute for this update, I jumped straight into writing Chapter 5 so you won’t be stuck on that cliff for long. I’m off work this weekend and fully prepared to pull an all‑nighter. My goal is to have Chapter 5 in final edits by Sunday evening and posted late Sunday/early Monday.

Just a small snippet from Chapter 4! <3 Enjoy. Full Chapter coming to my ao3 soon! <3

Just then, Wren reappeared in the doorway, fully dressed. Her hair was brushed… mostly. She blinked at them, still looking mildly offended by consciousness. She had a backpack of her own that carried her tablet, her phone, and some of her “mobile” snacks. 

“I’m ready,” she announced.

Jack raised an eyebrow. “You sure?”

Wren nodded solemnly. “I have decided that the zoo is an acceptable alternative to another day of Mr. Harpers academic disappointment.” Robby grinned. “Perfect. Let’s go learn something real.” “Wait.” Jack said and went back to the hall closet and returned with a baseball cap for Wren to further help protect her face from the sun.  “Sit for a second, I'll fix your hair.” Wren sat down in a kitchen chair. Jack slipped the elastic through Wren’s hair, smoothing the curls with gentle, practiced hands. He settled the baseball cap on her head, tugged the ponytail through the back, and began braiding it with the kind of easy confidence that only came from years of doing it half‑asleep before school.

Robby hadn’t meant to stare. But something about it — the quiet focus on Jack’s face, the tenderness in every motion, the way Wren sat perfectly still because she trusted him completely — hit him in the chest harder than he expected. There was nothing flashy about it, nothing performative. Just a dad taking care of his kid in the softest, most competent way.

And Robby felt it — that warm, stupid little flutter of oh… that’s really adorable mixed with a deeper, steadier and that’s actually kind of hot. In that single dad doing his best way. Robby licked his bottom lip before pulling it into his mouth with his teeth just lost in watching Jack. He tried to look away before it became obvious, but he just couldn’t pull his eyes away. Jack tied off the braid, gave it a gentle tug to check it, and tapped the brim of her hat. “There. Perfect.”

Wren hopped up from the chair immediately. “Now I’m ready.”

Robby blinked, snapped out of whatever quiet spiral he’d fallen into. “Yep,” he said, clearing his throat. “Ready. Totally ready.”

Jack shot him a small, amused look — the kind that said he’d noticed something, even if he didn’t know what. Robby’s cheeks warmed as he made himself busy patting down his pockets like he’d misplaced a winning lottery ticket.

Wren didn’t notice at all. She was already marching toward the door like she had a mission.

Jack held up Robby’s key fob by the keychain ring on his index finger. The keys rocked back and forth as they dangled. He smirked. “Looking for these?”

Robby froze mid‑pat‑down, cheeks still pink. “I—yes. Obviously. I was just… checking my pockets out of habit."

Jack snickered and stepped closer, lowering the keys into Robby’s palm. “Uh‑huh. Sure you were.”

Their fingers brushed — a light touch that lingered a beat too long to be accidental. Robby’s breath hitched, just barely, and Jack’s eyes flicked up to meet his. The teasing softened.

“Hey,” Jack murmured, voice dropping into something gentler.

Robby swallowed. “Hey.”

For a moment, neither of them moved. The kitchen felt smaller again — warm, quiet, suspended. Jack’s hand was still half‑wrapped around Robby’s, the keys caught between their palms like a secret. Jack leaned in first, slow and deliberate, brushing his lips against Robby’s in a soft, testing kiss.

Robby closed the distance without thinking, kissing him back — warm, careful, a little breathless. Jack inhaled sharply, a quiet sound that went straight through Robby, and then Jack’s hand slid up to the back of his neck, fingers curling just enough to guide him closer.

The kiss deepened — not rushed, not messy, just fuller, more certain. Jack kissed like someone who didn’t get many soft moments and wasn’t going to waste this one. Robby’s hands hovered for a second before settling lightly at Jack’s waist, grounding himself in the warmth there.

Jack pulled back only a fraction, their foreheads almost touching, his thumb brushing once along Robby’s jaw.

“That okay?” he whispered.

Robby let out a shaky laugh. “Yeah. More than okay.”

Jack’s smile tilted, warm and crooked. “Good.”

He leaned in for one more kiss — a gentle press, slow and sweet — before—

“ROBBY!” Wren’s voice echoed from the front door. “THE ZOO AWAITS!”

They both froze.

Jack bit back a laugh, stepping away just enough to let the moment settle. “You better go before she starts drafting a formal complaint.”

Robby groaned, cheeks flushed but smiling. “Right. Zoo. Animals. Education. Totally normal Thursday.”

Jack squeezed his hand once before letting go. “Have fun.”

June doesn’t know he’s here. Not yet. But Titus Danforth has arrived in Willow Creek, and he’s already leaving a trail behind him. As June wakes from another nightmare, the town wakes to a body in the creek — and the past she ran from is closer than she thinks.

Okay so. After staring at my outline, drinking questionable amounts of caffeine, and realizing Chapter 16 basically slammed the door shut on the first arc like a season finale, I’ve decided:

✨ Wolves Don’t Run is now officially split into two parts. ✨

Chapter 16 = the end of Part One

Chapter 17 = Chapter 1 of Wolves Don’t Run: Part 2

Because the vibes said so.

Also because it makes the story way easier to read, and the emotional arc of Part 1 is actually complete. Part 2 is a whole new era — healing, recovery, identity, softness, chaos, Jules, trauma, more Jules, And most importantly Jack and Robby being ER cowboys and coparenting 🤣 and Charlie trying to function like a person.

Anyway. Thank you for being here. Part Two is coming soon!