Chapter 12 - Moira

"Gross! What is this?" Vera spat a mouthful of cookie into a napkin and took a long drink of coffee to wash the taste from her mouth.

Moira jerked away from the window where she'd been staring at nothing, lost in thought. "What? You're so dramatic. What's wrong with it?"

Vera shoved the rest of the cookie at her. "Dramatic? Try it. You'll do the same thing I did. Did you put salt in instead of sugar or something?"

Taking a tentative nibble, Moira grimaced. "Ew. That is gross. Shoot, now I have to throw this whole batch out."

She dumped the tray into the trash and looked around the kitchen, wondering where she'd gone wrong during the baking process. It wasn't like her to mess up but these past few weeks were anything but normal. And lately, her mind had been drifting back to that night with Jonah any time she let it wander. How he'd touched her like he worshipped her.

Vera snapped her fingers. "There you go again. Earth to Moira. What has gotten into you? I'm afraid to eat anything else, seriously."

"Oh no." Moira pretended to be hurt. "What will I do without you eating half my inventory without paying for it?"

Rumors of Moira's involvement with Jonah had already spread through the Rosewood pack, and she had no idea who'd started them. Vera had stormed over immediately upon hearing it, demanding an explanation.

"This is about Jonah, isn't it," Vera went on, waving her coffee cup around. "I have no idea what you're thinking getting involved with your bully. Honestly, I thought you had more self-respect than that, and that's saying something. But obviously, it's affecting you. You've been more of a mess than ever."

Concentrating on taking slow, deep breaths, Moira resisted the urge to strangle her sister. Barely. "I told you it's part of a deal. I pretend to be his mate, and he buys me the bakery."

"And you think that's really going to happen, like some kind of fairy tale? He waltzes in, says sorry, buys you the shop of your dreams, and you two live happily ever after?"

Vera snorted a laugh. When she put it like that, Moira's doubts seemed to double in size. She was just beginning to believe that Jonah had changed, but what if she was being naive? In the end, she could go through all of this just for Jonah to bail on his half of the deal. Her face burned when she thought of his cold laughter, still so vivid in her memory. He could be deceiving her even now.

"I'm not an idiot," Moira ground out, tamping down on her runaway doubts. "He's going to buy the bakery. We made a deal, and I'll hold him to it."

"Great. Even best-case scenario, you're tied to this place in this shit hole. It'll be an anchor around your neck, Moira, dragging you down with it. " Vera slapped her hand on the counter, punctuating her words.

Hands shaking with anger, Moira poured the dry ingredients into the wet and started to mix, making a new batch of the cookies she'd ruined. "Can't you just let me have my dream, even if it doesn't match up with the one you have for me? I'm happy here. Happy doing this. It's enough for me."

Her sister's eyes rolled with disdain. "I just know you're capable of so much more. I love you, and I want what's best for you. I want more than this for you."

Moira sighed, frustrated. They'd had this conversation too many times over the years for her to believe that it was going to go anywhere new. Her sister just couldn't let go. It was driving a wedge between them that she feared would be too big to patch up someday.

"Can we just not talk about this? I have my opinions, and you have yours. I don't butt into your life, and I'd appreciate it if you didn't butt into mine." Moira matched her sister's glare for glare, unflinching.

"Fine. I'll keep my mouth shut, but don't expect me to bail you out when this crashes and burns." Vera threw her hands in the air.

It was all Moira could ask for. "Thanks. I appreciate that. And I won't ask for you to rescue me if that happens, I promise. I just want the chance to make this work."

And she was willing to take a risk with Jonah to make it happen. She was going to meet with Mrs. Alden later that week to make her proposal with Jonah's check in her pocket, and the thought buoyed her even in her darkest moments.

"But you're not going to actually fall for him, right?" Vera asked, with a too-knowing look in her eye.

Moira dropped her face to hide it, not trusting herself to hide her feelings. Vera's words struck too close to the truth. Ever since that night with Jonah, the way he'd held her in his arms until the storm eased, walked her home in the sunrise, she'd felt something take root inside of her. Something that grew each time he stopped by with a mocha just for her or a book he wanted her to read. Something she couldn't kill.

"No, of course not," Moira said, pushing the tray of cookies into the oven. "Don't be ridiculous. It's just a business deal."

Maybe it would have been true if she had said it enough times. Vera nodded, tight-lipped, and Moira knew this wasn't the last she was going to hear about it.

"If you say so," she said at last.

"Why don't we talk about your love life for once?" Moira asked, trying to steer the conversation away from her own personal problems.

"Maybe because I don't have one. I have work, I have the pack, I have you. There's no time for romance, and I don't want it anyway. A man would just mean one more thing to be responsible for." Vera wrinkled her nose.

She'd never been a romantic, though she'd dated off and on throughout the years, calling it off whenever it seemed to be getting serious. Allergic to commitment, they'd joked.

"You might find someone that wants to take care of you, for a change. Someone that could help take a load off your shoulders," Moira pushed. If her sister got involved with someone it would take her attention off of Moira for a bit, give her some breathing room.

Vera gave her a warning glare. "Don't even think about it. Don't try to set me up with anyone, and don't give anyone my number. I'm not interested."

There goes that plan. Moira relented, waving her hand. "Fine, fine."

"I have to go," Vera said. "Don't forget, they're expecting you tonight at the meeting to talk about the vandal. Bring some cookies that don't taste like I baked them, okay?"

Moira sighed in relief when the door swung shut behind Vera, slumping against the counter. At least tonight, her sister would have something else to focus on. In the month after the incident at the lighthouse, the vandal had ramped up their efforts against the two packs, sowing discord and suspicion between them. She knew without a doubt that it wasn't Jonah; after all, she'd been with him during the lighthouse incident.

She packed up a box of mixed cookies and set it aside to bring to the meeting, then settled in to work on the wedding cake. Another two orders had come in, one for an elaborate six-tier cake and the other a simpler, two-tier affair. The tasting with the first bride was scheduled for next week and she wanted to have all of her flavors perfect by then.

When the chime above the door rang a few hours later, Moira looked up to find Jonah in the doorway. He'd made it a habit to walk her home. It was sweet, if unnecessary—she hadn't had any other personal interactions with the vandal since the lighthouse, and whoever they were, they seemed more interested in destroying property than harming people. But she liked his eager smile whenever he set eyes on her, as if she lit up his whole day.

And maybe, just maybe, he lit up hers as well. "Try these," she said, sliding him a tray of each flavor she'd baked up that day, notepad ready to jot down his comments. "And be brutally honest."

"Hey Moira, how was your day?" He teased, grabbing the fork. "Mine was good too, thanks for asking."

She bit her cheek to keep from smiling and tapped her pen against the pad of paper. "Focus. This is serious business. I need these cakes to wow everyone who tastes them."

He nodded somberly and took his first bite. "Perfect. So fluffy and flavorful."

"What would you give it out of ten?" Moira asked.

"Ten, for sure." Jonah swallowed and speared the next sample.

"Don't flatter me, Jonah," she warned, "I need serious feedback to improve."

"I'd never," he promised. "I know how important this place is to you. This one needs a little something. Maybe more lemon. It's tart, but I'd want it to be more sour with the frosting, you know?"

Jotting down his notes, she realized he'd meant what he'd said as he worked his way through the rest of the flavors, giving both feedback and praise in equal parts. No one had ever taken her baking seriously before. To Vera, it had been a hobby Moira had gotten too invested in, and to the rest of the town, it was just the local bakery, worth a stop when you had a sweet tooth but not a destination in itself. Moira was going to change that.

"Any more?" Jonah asked, scraping the empty plate. He rubbed his stomach even though she knew it was still perfectly flat and muscular under there. "I was just getting started."

Moira cleared the table and started to close up the bakery for the night. "Next time I'm testing out a new recipe, I'll call you. If I ask Vera to do it, she just has to remind me how ‘not a career' this is between every bite."

Jonah held the door for her, and she stepped outside, locking the bakery behind her. After the rain and storms over the past few weeks, having a pleasant, sunny evening was a rare treat.

"It must be hard to have a sister like that. Or any sister, actually," he added. "I'm an only child."

"Sometimes I really envy you for that," Moira laughed.

She couldn't imagine her life without Vera. As much as they butted heads, there was a bond between them that drew them back together every time. Cracks ran through the entire foundation of their relationship, but it would never shatter. She knew that.

"It was a little lonely sometimes. That's why when I met Devon, it felt like finding the brother I'd never had. I followed him anywhere." He sounded wistful.

"So you joined the White Winter pack for him, even though you didn't really fit in there." Moira could understand that.

She'd loved the Silversand pack, the runs over the beach, and the sea salt in her fur, and adjusting to the Rosewoods had been a struggle at first.

Jonah nodded. "Yup. I don't regret it. He needed help, and I was there for him. His sister is a real piece of work, too, actually. Maybe it's a sister thing."

His eyes crinkled at the corners, and he pushed his hands into his pockets. There was something there, some history with Devon's sister. She could hear it in his tone and how he stared down at the sidewalk when he spoke of her.

She should've just left it alone, but she couldn't stop herself. Imagining Jonah with another woman brought out an unpleasant feeling in her stomach, a gnawing sensation. "Did you love her?"

To her surprise, he laughed. "No, but I cared for her more than she ever cared for me. In a way, it wasn't her fault. She was messed up, and it was her way of coping, but… I just ended up feeling kind of used. Like my feelings for her were genuine, but hers were just for her amusement."

Moira looped her arm through his and pulled him closer. She didn't like the pain that cracked his voice. It made her want to march over to the White Winters and confront that woman. "I'm sorry."

"Thanks, but it's in the past now." He rolled his shoulders like he was shaking off the memory. "Where am I taking you tonight?"

"Oh, actually, to the Rosewood green. There's a meeting tonight." She shook the cookie tin tucked under her free arm. "They still haven't caught that vandal."

The streets of Rosewood were decorated for fall with wreaths of leaves wrapped around the street lamps and pumpkins on every corner. Every storefront had gone all out for the season with their window displays, everything from headless horsemen to scarecrows behind the glass, prepared for the annual competition. Moira loved the way everyone leaned into it. It felt like being inside one of the movies she'd watched as a child.

"Any new leads?" Jonah asked, cutting across the street toward the sprawling central green.

It was only half finished but would boast a carriage complete with a skeletal horse and a jack-o-lantern driver, gravestones, and eerie lighting once it was completed. Moira had volunteered to bake festive treats for the upcoming festival and was already planning out the shapes she'd cut the cookies into, ghosts and cats and bats.

"No," she said, straightening a leaning tombstone. "Whoever it is, they're crafty."

"We'll catch them." His jaw was set, the shadow deep beneath his cheekbone.

She hoped it was true, even as she doubted it. Whoever it was, they seemed to be able to move seamlessly between the two packs unnoticed. It was hard not to be suspicious of everyone when it seemed likely that it was one of their own to blame.

The Rosewoods were gathered near the tree. Sparkling orange lights were draped from its branches, flickering like candles. Jonah pulled to a stop before they got too close and slipped his arm free from Moira's. She wanted to pull him closer, wanted him to lean down and kiss her right there, wanted to drag him home to her bed. His hands flexed, and she wondered if he was fighting the same impulse she was.

"Well, good night, Moira. Be careful out there." He touched her cheek, and she leaned into his palm, savoring the fleeting contact. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Tomorrow," she agreed, watching him go.

He strolled away, back toward Silversand, and Moira turned to join her pack, feeling pulled in two different directions.

"There you are," Vera said, stomping over to Moira and dragging her to the gathering. She was wrapped in a knee-length parka, hood pulled up high around her face. "That looked like more than a business deal to me."

"Drop it, Vera." Moira plastered a smile onto her face as the others turned to greet her. "Hey, everyone."

She set the cookie tin down in the center beside an urn of spiced cider, poured herself a cup, and then found a spot beside Vera to sit. Adria and Spencer stood at the center of the meeting. Moira was the last to arrive, and they began once she was seated.

"I know we're all worried about the vandalism that's been happening lately," Adria said, looking around at the pack. "With the festival coming up, there's been a lot of concern about the decorations getting destroyed or worse, the person escalating to something else."

"Like violence," Spencer cut in. "Whoever this is, they want to create fear among us. They want us to point fingers. Even Vera hasn't been able to track them down, so we know they're sneaky, but it's still just one of them against all of us. There's no need to be afraid."

"Do you think this has to do with the Silversand's alpha dying?" Vera asked, grabbing a handful of cookies from the tin.

Spencer and Adria shared a look. "We've considered it," Adria said, carefully. "But until we get some solid leads, we can't go digging around in their business. The trail led to the lighthouse, that's true, but anyone can go there."

"So, we're just going to sit and wait for them to strike again?" Moira shared Vera's fear that this had something to do with the Silversands. Who else would benefit from the weakening of the Rosewoods?

"We're going to keep guard at the festival. It would be the perfect time for them to strike again, when we're all distracted." Spencer punched his fist into his other hand. "I won't let them ruin our tradition."

"Speaking of," Adria said, touching Spencer's arm gently, "let's finish setting up here. It'll take our mind off of things."

But the air lacked its usual levity as they set about decorating the green. Voices were hushed, and Moira caught a few suspicious glances thrown over shoulders, people flinching at every loud noise. The fall festival should be a time of joy and celebration, but the shadow of what had happened hung over everything.

She hadn't told anyone but Vera what had happened that night she'd spent with Jonah because she didn't want anyone getting the wrong idea about the two of them, but she was starting to feel like she should. Adria and Spencer needed to have all of the information.

"I think I should tell them tonight," Moira said under her breath to Vera as they assembled the bones of the horse.

It was a job given, naturally, to Vera since she had anatomical knowledge and viewed it as some sort of annual test. Moira's job was to run the timer and hand her the bones as ordered.

"Don't," Vera ordered, snapping the hoof into place. "It will just worry them."

"Are you sure?" Moira frowned and handed her the next bone—part of the leg, if she had to guess. "I think it might help if they knew it wasn't just the Rosewoods being targeted here."

"You were there," Vera said, pointing the bone at Moira. "And you're a Rosewood. We can't assume anything."

She found herself nodding, grateful she wouldn't have to explain to them that she'd been spending the night with Jonah, and she tried to push down on the guilt that came from hiding something from her pack.

"Fine, but if it seems important at any point, I'm going to tell them." Moira tugged at the ends of her hair.

She had a bad feeling about this and knew she was only keeping secrets to protect her pride. What would everyone think of her? The rumors about her and Jonah were one thing, but admitting them out loud was another.