mom’s supply room. It smells like sage and oleander and something unmistakably her. She loved this room, and even with the clouds still crying outside, I have to admit, it’s calming. I especially love the dried herbs she always has hanging on the wire that runs along the length of it—a way to make the plant live on in the mixtures she made with them.
She was always in here puttering around, mixing up ointments, arranging bandages, planning for births, and making natural remedies for our pack for things that didn’t need her magic. If only I’d been born with the gift too, then I would be valuable. I’d have leverage to apply to join a new pack and leave Burke and his unwanted attention behind.
Instead, I’m nothing.
I can’t leave without the alpha’s permission. Not unless I want to abandon the ways of my people and live as a human. Even then, I risk being discovered and returned. Pack alliances are fragile, which means even if I could find a pack that would take me in no questions asked, they might be at risk of attack from Twin Rivers. Who’s going to do that for a nobody like me?
I sigh and reach up to gently stroke the dried petals of a hanging dog violet and glance around at all the things my mom won’t be using. An abrupt knock on the door makes me flinch, and I whirl around and rush out, passing the living room and kitchen to see who it is. Swinging the front door open, I find Hess standing there soaked through, with two bottles of beer in one hand and a grim expression on his face.
I frown in confusion for a moment, but quietly stand aside while he clomps in. The old curmudgeon kicks off his wet shoes by the door so as not to track in water and mud, and we both know it’s because my mom would have given him a glare otherwise.
“Did you walk all the way here from your house?” I ask, taking in the mud-stained hem of his pants, and the now see-through button-down shirt as I close the door.
“Yep.” He walks straight to the kitchen where he flips on the lights and puts down the bottles on the bar before easing himself onto one of the stools.
I hesitate awkwardly in the doorway, surprised that he’s here. Ever since my dad died three years ago, he’s been a good friend to my mom, but he and I never really formed any sort of relationship. I’ve always been polite but distant, and that was fine with him. I’m glad my mom was able to get through her grief with Hess’s help, but he’s not my dad, and we were never close, so this impromptu visit feels awkward.
Hess tugs out a keyring from his pocket and uses a bottle opener to flip off both caps. Heartbroken gray eyes rise to meet mine, and he slides the second beer to the open seat next to him. “Sit,” he says, rubbing the dark blond scruff on his jaw as water drips from his wheat-toned short hair.
I slip onto the stool, staring at the dark brown offering. “You know I’m not twenty-one quite yet.”
Hess doesn’t even look over at me, just takes a long gulp from his bottle. “Please, you really want me to believe you’ve never had a beer before? Besides it’s just a month out,” he grunts. “I figured if there was any time you’d need a drink, it was tonight.”
He lifts his bottle, and I take mine in my hand so he can clink them together. “To Delaney.”
My throat goes tight at the sound of her name, at the wetness that gathers in his eyes.
“To Mom,” I repeat.
Together, we drink in silence, with just the rain and our sips to fill the air of the kitchen that’s splashed with greens and yellows and somehow feels so much less cheery than it ever has before.
Hess and my mom bonded over the loss of their mates, and I thought for a while that maybe he had a thing for my mom. I even gave her my blessing one night as we made cookies and salves and lost ourselves to laughter and girl-talk. Turns out, they didn’t see each other in that way, they both simply understood loneliness and loss, so they made an effort to be there for each other.
“She shouldn’t have died.”
Hess looks over at me from the corner of his eye, and I wait