5. Confessions and Cookies

JASPER

M y feet skim the steps and only hit the porch once before I’m through the doorway of my cabin. Sensing her in her bedroom, I slow my breath and knock softly on the open door.

Marigold sits cross-legged on her neatly made bed, her fingers tugging at the braid in her hair, unraveling it. Her nails snag on a tangle and she lets out a growl. I ignore what that sound does to my body.

“Hey, hey, don’t take it out on your poor hair,” I tease, crossing the room. Her face lights up in that dazzling smile she wears like armor, though it’s looking dull at this moment like she can’t quite fake it.

Tentatively, I sit behind her and start to untangle the knot. “You don’t have to,” she protests, covering the snarl with her hand.

“Just sit and let me do this,” I say. Her hands drop to her ankles and her shoulders tense, but she obeys. Her hair is lustrous and I revel in running my fingers through it. Gently, I tug apart the braid until it loosens.

“Thanks,” she says hoarsely, almost a whisper.

“Did my question bother you?” I ask, my chest tight.

“It’s not that. I’m being ridiculous.”

“I love it when you’re ridiculous, but you don’t seem ridiculous right now, so what’s upsetting you?”

Twisting, she peeks over her shoulder at me. “I’m really sorry I said you were ick the other day, that was so messed up, I was put on the spot and felt flustered, and it was such a dumb thing to say.”

“So I’m not like a brother?” I ask, a sly smile creeping in.

She rolls those luminous eyes. The last few inches of the braid unravel and I reach for the hairbrush left on the desk.

“I can brush my own hair,” she says, snagging it out from under my fingers.

I hold my hand out. “I want to. It’s time someone took care of you for once.” She blinks at me but lays the brush in my outstretched palm. “I see how hard you work for everyone else, all the time.”

The first drag of the brush through her hair causes her to let out a soft hum of pleasure .

“Your hair is gorgeous,” I murmur. She tightens her shoulders and then lets out a sigh. “You okay? Did I actually upset you?”

“I feel so stupid.”

“You’re not,” I say.

“I’ve literally spent the last ten years crushing on Cedar and he feels nothing toward me. And everyone knows, and I’m so embarrassed. How could I be this idiotic?”

“I’m sorry, Marigold,” I say. “It was horrible of me to ask that and put you guys on the spot in front of everyone.”

“I think I’m glad you did. I’d rather know, and I’m not sure I would have listened otherwise. I’m not mad at you, just humiliated.”

“Don’t be. Everyone adores you, and you have nothing to be embarrassed about. I was a jackass. I was irritated.”

“What was bugging you?”

Silence stretches between us. But after what she shared, she deserves an honest answer. “I was jealous.” My ears burn and I can’t look at her, but I take a deep breath and keep speaking the truth. “There’re times when we’re talking and he walks in and suddenly he has all of your interest.”

Her lips part in surprise. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.”

“I know I don’t have any sort of claim to your attention. But you’re not second to anyone else for me. And I guess I wanted to be your first choice too.”

She’s quiet, her expression thoughtful .

Section by section, I brush out her hair into gleaming waves. Her nails dig into the fabric of her dress across her thighs, wrinkling it.

“Better?” I ask. She gives me a mhmm noise of approval.

“Jasper?” she asks. I set the brush aside and run my fingers through her hair, smoothing it back into a sheet of rose gold down her back. She tips her face upwards and closes her eyes. “I think you are my number one. I’d rather be here with you than with anyone else.”

I can’t resist grabbing her around the waist and hauling her closer in a tight hug. Her hair falls across my face like a silk curtain that tosses back as she squeals and laughs. Every noise is like music and my heart races.

Her shoulders rise and a flush turns her skin from freckled gold to pinkish bronze. We both sink down until we’re settled comfortably across her twin bed, her head against the dip of my waist below my ribs.

“I don’t know why I didn’t flat out ask him years ago or simply get over it and move on,” she muses. Reaching out, she tugs my foot closer, running her fingertips over the scar from the crossbow, though she doesn’t say a word about it.

“I get it,” I reassure her. “It’s nice to have someone to fantasize about, and he’s a decent guy.” I should stop talking, but I can’t help myself. “But he isn’t what you need. You deserve someone who is crazy about you. Someone who sees you as a partner and cares about your goals. ”

She turns her face against my shirt. “Don’t say I need Onyx.”

My laughter bursts out of me and she joins in. “Onyx doesn’t deserve you. You’re perfect.” The moment tightens around us, her doe eyes widening.

She turns on her side and it breaks the tension. “You never told me about that meeting yesterday.”

I describe Zephyr's dramatic apology, and the way he evaded responsibility and subtly snubbed Heath. Marigold curls her lip at the worst parts. When I finish, she rolls to her stomach and props her head on her hands, elbows on the mattress.

“I agree. His wolves wouldn’t randomly go off and work for another pack. He ordered them to do it, and he’s trying to make us believe otherwise.”

“Yeah, but what bothers me is how thoroughly he blamed my dad. If they are such good allies, he wouldn’t do that, unless he had a really good reason.”

Pausing, she frowns. “You’re right. That’s really suspicious.”

My hand flops down, brushing across her upper back. “Maybe it’ll be obvious at the Alpha Counsel. I’m sure Hawthorne and Heath will see right through any shit they try to pull.”

“Are you worried about seeing him?” she asks quietly, and I know she doesn’t mean Zephyr.

“No, it’ll be fine. He can’t do anything to me.” I say, wishing I fully believed it. I know my pack will keep me safe, but that doesn’t mean my parents won’t find a way to attack me with their words and accusations .

Before she can ask another question about my problems, I shoot back. “Why do you do chores at your dad’s? It seems strange. I mean, your brothers are older, Indigo is almost an adult…”

Her lips thin, but she doesn’t try to spin it or lie to me. “My dad is busy and it’s hard for him to take care of the cabin. My mom always did pretty much all the housekeeping.”

Her mom. I knew nothing about her mom. “I didn’t know, you’ve never told me,” I say quietly, hoping she’ll continue. She obliges.

“She died from complications from having Cobalt. So it’s been about ten years. I was twelve.”

“You tried to fill her shoes taking care of the boys?” I guess.

Her voice shakes a little. “Lots of moms helped take care of Cobie. It wasn’t like I was caring for a newborn or anything.”

“How did your dad handle everything?”

Marigold wets her lips and I follow the motion as she presses them together between her teeth. “Not great. He kinda shut down. Indie and Cobalt needed all of his attention, so I took care of myself and tried to help as much as I could.”

My hand runs down her arm again and back up. “That sounds hard.”

She raises her chin and meets my gaze. “Honestly, the hardest part was missing my mom, especially as a teenager.”

“I’m so sorry.” Gently, I tuck her hair behind her ear.

“I feel awful, because there are people like Slate who lost a parent within the last few years, and for me, it’s been a decade. I don’t feel like I have a right to grieve after all this time. But I do. Something reminds me of her, like when Crickett makes her favorite snickerdoodle cookies, or rainy days, those were her favorite, and it feels like it’s fresh. Like I just lost her.”

Her confession hangs between us. I’ve never lost a parent, so I have no idea how that feels. After how terrible my parents were, I can’t imagine missing them with any intensity.

“What would you tell a friend who was grieving?” I ask.

She exhales slowly, her face relaxing as she thinks. “Um, that it’s okay to feel sad. That it’s going to last a long time and never really go away,” she answers, her words starting slowly and picking up speed, “and that your sadness will start to mix with happy memories eventually, and it’ll be nice to remember them, even if it still hurts at the same time.”

I study her face as her emotion seeps out. “So isn’t that what you should tell yourself?”

A smile flashes across her face and she reaches out and smacks my abdomen. “I get it, you goober.”

“Hey!” I yelp, grabbing her upper arms and pullingher hands out from under her chin. She shrieks, trying to swat me again, her smile becoming a genuine grin .

MARIGOLD

“How are you doing?” Hazel asks, her amber eyes watchful as she sips her lemonade. It’s hard to hide anything from her, and I don’t want to, but there are a few things I’m not ready to share.

“Fine.” My tone is light.

We’re settled around a picnic table, kids running back and forth in a vigorous game of tag. Usually, our girls' lunch is the highlight of my week, but today I’m feeling a little wary.

“That was pretty awkward on the hike yesterday. I don’t know why Jasper asked that. I wanted to smack him.” She wastes no time getting to the source of my uneasiness. With a lopsided smile, Hazel sets her drink down and the ice clinks against the glass.

A blush creeps up my neck and I slowly exhale. “It’s okay. We talked about it. He was being stupid, but I’m not mad.” My fingers run over the worn grooves in the picnic table, smooth from years of daily use.

“I’ll still smack him if you want,” Hazel offers. Her nose scrunches up, making her look deceivingly unthreatening.

Chuckling, I go back to my cobb salad, loaded with smokey bacon, eggs, and sharp cheese. The only way a salad is acceptable. We are carnivores after all.

“So, are we not going to talk about your huge crush?” she asks pointedly. I choke on my bite and the lettuce sticks to my throat. It takes a few coughs to clear my airway.

“What do you mean? ”

“Marigold,” she says, “as long as I’ve known you, you’ve been hung up on Cedar. Hearing what he said yesterday must have sucked.”

“Oh, yeah.” I take a drink, needing time to think. “Honestly, I think I was kinda over it. I was more upset with Jasper being pushy than what Cedar said.”

“Oh.” Her eyebrows rise incredulously.

Shrugging, I set my fork down. “It was a teenage infatuation. I’m not sure when it faded. I didn’t even really realize. But I guess I grew out of it.”

“So it’s nothing to do with the fact you keep going over to Jasper’s cabin every night?”

I almost spit out my drink. How did she know? My impulse is to deny it, but Hazel is too perceptive for that to work. “I can explain.”

“Oh, yeah?” she asks, a smug smile crossing her features. She loves having one-up on me, which is fair after all the times I teased her about Slate before they got together.

My fork scrapes my plate as I push a sliver of hard-boiled egg through the remaining lettuce.

“You know how I was frustrated staying with my grandma. It was getting worse.” She nods sympathetically. “I finally reached my breaking point, so I asked if I could stay in the second bedroom in Jasper’s cabin.”

“Why didn’t you come stay with us?” Hazel asks, not guilting me, but in a sweet way.

“You and Slate need your space. You’re still newly mated.”

“We would have loved to have you,” she argues .

Rubbing my eyes, I finally admit, “You guys are all over each other all the time. I can’t imagine how you are behind closed doors. I certainly don’t want to be in your guest room for several weeks. I love you, but I have my limits.”

Her cheeks flush and she bursts out laughing. “We’re not that bad!”

My stare turns deadpan. “I’m pretty sure he was feeling you up the other night around the campfire.”

“No!” she denies, though her blush tells me I’m not far from the truth. “You turned this around on me, but we were talking about you and Jasper.” So much for the conversation moving on. “You’re not over Cedar because Jasper is becoming a thing for you?”

“We’re roommates. Totally platonic,” I say, keeping my tone even.

Hazel scoffs. “I wonder if he sees it that way.”

“He does.” Scowling, I stab a huge piece of chicken and stuff it into my mouth to avoid answering whatever ridiculous question she comes up with next.

Her gaze connects with mine as she leans forward and drops her voice. “Marigold, remember, I know Jasper.” She pauses, suddenly serious. “He’s been denied the love he needs his entire life. And you are basically a fountain of encouragement and affection. If you’re not interested in him like that, then you need to be careful.”

Swallowing, I frown at her. “I’ve been keeping a normal distance. Not being touchy-feely, like we talked about.”

“It’s more than that. You guys are spending a lot of time alone together now. Even if you’re not all over each other, having all that time to talk, I’m sure you guys are getting closer.” She rakes her nails through her hair. “If you’re not firm with your boundaries, I have no doubt he’ll fall head over heels for you.”

Shaking my head, I think about how comforting and sweet he’s been. “He might be my best friend. But that’s it.” Hazel’s mouth opens in mock horror. “Other than you! My other best friend. He’s been so kind and supportive. And respectful.”

“I know how great he is. But that doesn’t change the situation. I’m not worried you guys are mistreating each other. I’m worried you’re crossing lines you don’t want to cross,” she says.

“I think you’re overthinking this. It’s been months, and we’re clearly only friends. A few extra hours together aren’t going to change anything.”

“So you’re not going to rebound with him?” she asks.

“There’s nothing to rebound over!” I say, annoyance creeping in. With a breath, I let it go. “Okay, well what should I do? Because I’m trying to be a good friend. But if you worry he’s catching feelings, I’m not sure what to do. I’d rather not confront him about it. That would be mortifying, especially if you’re wrong.”

My stomach churns at the thought of confronting him. What would I say? You’re not allowed to fall in love with me?

“I think you need to set clear boundaries with him then.”

“Like what? ”

She leans back, tapping her fingers on her arms as she thinks. “Avoiding being too physically close is a good start.” If only she knew about the hours we spent curled up together in my bed last night talking about our feelings. “And not getting too deep with stuff. Baring your heart and all that.” Too late for that one too.

Folding my hands, I cock my head and give her a relaxed smile. “No problem. Don’t even worry about it.”

That might be the biggest lie I’ve ever told my friend.

“Okay,” she says, her eyes narrowing.

“So how are you guys? How’s the new cabin? Did you finish organizing the kitchen drawers?” Thankfully, she lets me steer the conversation away.

“Yeah, but Slate already rearranged everything. Which I guess is okay. He’s the one using it most of the time.”

“You lucky girl,” I say, laughing. Slate spent the holidays learning to bake her favorite chocolatey treats. “Hey, have you heard anything else from Heath about internship assignments for my students?”

The conversation wanders between lighter topics until we are out of time. Hazel heads off to lead a patrol and I dive into a research project with my class.

After school, I’m eager to head home. Jasper had today off work and I’m curious what he’s been up to. A soft clink of ceramic drifts between the trees, audible over the crunch of pine needles under my feet .

The cabin smells like cinnamon and burnt sugar, cozy and slightly bitter. I’m stunned, pausing in the doorway. “Whatcha doing?”

“Good afternoon, Roomie,” Jasper calls from the kitchen.

Stepping forward, I cock my head, trying to take in the scene. Jasper is standing in the kitchen, holding a spatula and a mixing bowl. “Are you… baking?”

His smirk is so smug, I want to wipe it off his face. “Maybe.”

Walking around the counter, I can feel warmth emanating from the oven. Bags of flour and sugar line the counter. Leaning over his shoulder, I spy a bowl of cookie dough before he waves me off with a spatula.

“Before you get up in my business, I got you something.” He plunges the spatula into the mixing bowl and sets it aside with a thunk.

Grabbing a shopping bag, he hands it to me, his mouth stretching into a wide grin. It’s from the local hardware store. Inside sits a huge skein of woven cord, a couple of thick dowels, a pair of high-end scissors, a few s-hooks and metal rings, and a tape measure.

“Are you serious right now?”

“Did I get the supplies right? The internet wasn’t exactly clear.”

“Jasper, this is way too much,” I say, clutching the bag to my chest instead of shoving it back at him like I should.

He shrugs like it’s nothing. “I thought you could make something for our cabin.”

Our cabin. That’s a first .

“I’m serious, this is like sixty or seventy bucks worth of supplies,” I argue, trying to remember exactly how expensive this stuff is. “Let me pay you back.”

“You can, with a cool wall hanging.” He raises an eyebrow, waiting for my argument. Sure, I’ll bite.

“Hey, that’s worth way more than sixty bucks,” I tease, crossing my arms. “Don’t push your luck.”

“Even with the best friend discount?” His begging puppy-dog eyes melt my resolve.

“You are unbelievable.”

“Believe it, baby,” he murmurs, almost to himself, turning back to his baking.

Setting the bag aside, I follow him back to the mixing bowl. A darkly burned batch of cookies sits scattered across a wrinkled sheet of parchment paper by the sink. A fine dusting of flour lightens his black shirt into charcoal.

“Looks like your first attempt didn’t go so well.”

He scowls at me, though I know he isn’t serious. “I’ve never baked cookies before. Give a guy a break.”

“Hey, Jasper?” I ask and he turns to me. “Thank you for the craft supplies. It’s really sweet.” I hold open my arms, and he pulls me close. While he’s savoring our hug, I dip my fingers into the bowl beside him - where a pyramid of flour sits mostly unincorporated over the creamed sugar and butter.

When Jasper releases me, I swipe my fingers across his face, leaving a streak of white powder across his tan skin.

“Did you?” he says, surprise dropping his jaw open .

“Yep!” I say, flouncing away with a gleeful cackle.

He grabs my wrist, pulling me back. “I don’t think so. Come back here and help me, if you’re so eager to get involved.”

“No thank you!” I squeal, yanking my hand away and jumping back.

“Marigold! I really need your help,” he whines, trying a different tactic.

Crossing my arms, I smirk at him. “Make me.”

For a split second, our eyes lock, mine full of challenge and his full of shock melting into delight. But then he’s lurching forward and I have to run.

Tearing out the front door, I dart around the side of the house and pull my shirt off in one smooth movement, leaping right out of my pants as my wolf form overtakes my skin.

That moment of transformation is exhilarating, my four legs stretching as I fall back toward the ground. The scents around me become high-definition, every rustling leaves loud to my wolf ears. The second my paws hit the earth, I’m off, dodging trees and leaping over the foliage.

Jasper pursues me, his huge white wolf faster. Glimpses of snowy fur flash in the edges of my vision as I listen to his steps. I wait for the moment he tackles me, but it doesn’t come.

His shoulder pulls level with mine until we are running side by side. Our breathing syncs up, his stride shortening to match mine. Wanting to see what he’s made of, I dart sideways and race north-east. Surprisingly agile, he keeps pace with me .

Bumping my side into his, I playfully snap at him. His teeth gleam as he bares them back at me. He can catch me, but can he keep me? I throw my weight into him, throwing him off course.

Finally, he takes the invitation to really play. Leaping forward, he throws his paws up, looping one over my back. I twist, pushing him back a step and trying to throw him to the ground. A growl rumbles out of him and I shiver at the rich sound.

On his second lunge, he allows me to take him to the ground. He rolls over onto his back, his paws framing my ruff. I snip at his muzzle, snapping my jaws closer to his nose.

For a moment we’re suspended, me over him. His glowing teal eyes meet mine and I can see how much he loves being in his wolf form. Most shifters do. It’s what we’re made for. I’ve noticed his white fur streaking past my window in the mornings.

Gracefully, he rolls to his feet and bends into a classic play-bow. Why yes, I’ll happily join you. As I lower my own front-half, he springs forward.

I chase him downhill toward the water, and then back up the slope across the north end of our territory. Faintly, we can hear the afternoon’s patrol east of us.

Racing through the trees together is thrilling. As wolves, we can run for hours. But it occurs to me that he may have left the oven on, so after a wide loop, I lead us back home.

Jasper disappears around the corner, allowing me privacy to shift back and pull my clothes on. Rounding the edge of the cabin, I find a deliciously shirtless man standing on the patio waiting for me.

“Now will you help me bake?” he asks, looking far too pleased with himself as I avoid looking at his chest.

“Fine.” Grabbing his hand, I drag him into the kitchen and start checking his recipe. It looks good so far. “I think you baked them too long.”

“I baked them for twelve minutes like the recipe says.” He’s baffled and it’s adorable.

I triple check the temperature. “Different ovens heat differently. This oven might run warmer or colder, but without an oven thermometer, I can’t tell.”

“Do I need one of those?” he asks.

“No, but it’s a safe bet it does run ten degrees hotter, maybe fifteen. We can turn it down and see how they bake.” The buttons chirp as he follows my instructions.

As he mixes the flour in, I tear off more parchment paper and lay the baking trays out. He sets the bowl of dough in front of me with a thud. “Look good?”

Nodding I scoop the first cookie and plop it onto the tray.

“Wait, you missed a step,” he says, picking the dough up and dropping it into a smaller bowl and rolling it around. Cinnamon sugar.

“You’re making snickerdoodles?” I say, spinning to face him.

He doesn’t look up, finishing rolling the cookie dough in the sugar mixture and setting it back on the cookie sheet.

“Jasper?” I prompt .

Finally his cyan eyes flick upwards. “Yeah?”

“You’re making snickerdoodle cookies after I told you about my mom.” I speak slowly, wanting his confirmation. His smile turns guilty.

Shoulders tensing, he scoops another dough ball and tosses it into the sugar. “Maybe I’m craving them after you mentioned it.”

“Asshole.” He laughs as I swat his arm.

My assumptions about the oven temperature prove correct. The second tray of cookies come out golden and gorgeous. Some edges are a little too brown, telling me the dough wasn’t mixed thoroughly. But I don’t think he needs a critique, not when it’s his first time baking cookies. Practice smooths out many mistakes.

His bright eyes watch my face as I chew my first bite. I nod, giving him a thumbs up. He visibly relaxes, taking a cookie for himself.

“Pretty good for a rookie, right?” he says, his cocky smirk back. As I turn back to scoop the rest of the dough out onto one last tray, I hear him say, “a cookie rookie,” under his breath. Glancing back, I crinkle my nose with amusement so he knows I heard him. That earns an embarrassed laugh.

Jasper insists on doing the dishes and I settle on the sofa with another snickerdoodle cookie. He hums as he scrubs, the running water and clinks of bowls and measuring cups forming a dissonant accompaniment. I watch his profile, admiring the curve of his lips and cut of his jaw .

By the time the kitchen is clean, it’s time to meet everyone for a community dinner. We don’t bother arriving separately, though he stands a bit further away from me once we arrive in the clearing. I want to grab his arm, but I try to respect the silent boundary. Hazel is right, we should keep a little distance. Even if I don’t really want to.