Page 59 of The Patron Saint of Timber Hollow

24

Aggie

The day after the Full moon, I darken the snow-lined path of Aggie's house. Jay's busy with the Pack, helping the grieving family in any way he can. The Lynx was named Beth. A stranger to me, which is why I stayed behind. As Alpha, everyone is looking to Jay now. I have to begrudgingly accept that his new leadership, the grieving families and Hunters in the Hollow, is taking up most of his time.

Even if I selfishly wish he was spending every waking second with me.

I can't sit at the Cabin anymore today, though. If I do, I might go crazy or start running and just never stop.

Will we ever stop feeling the urge to bolt at every turn?I ask my wolf, not really expecting an answer.

Maybe.She replies, golden eyes flashing.

Beyond my inability to sit still today, Aggie is the only one I have ever been able to talk to about what happened with Dad. There is no use in even trying with Mom. She hates Dad for dying, for leaving her behind. I know she's grieving and has never really gotten over his death. I can understand that, but I can't talk to her about that night. She breaks down too easily.

Her perception of the night has been skewed and twisted so much that I don't think she even knows what happened anymore.

It's just another yawning ocean between us. I love my mother, but... She just can't see beyond her own broken heart to see the damage she's wrought all on her own.

Despite Sam's encouragement, I'm confused by what's happening between Jay, Saint, and me.

Aggie is the only person I can think of who would be able to give me some advice.

Or at least I hope she has a spark of insightful wisdom to impart to me, a direction to take, orsomething.

As I make my way up the small set of stairs at Aggie's, I can't help but wish for the lush greenery of summer to come back. I'm over the endless slushy mess that is snow. The deep cold, the barren branches. Not to mention that the clover smells so good in the springtime.

Aggie's pink door is already open, letting the oppressive warmth from her oven out of the small kitchen. It smells like freshly made cookies, and if I'm not mistaken, her famous cookies and cream roll—a thin layer of chocolate cake rolled around a decadent vanilla creme.

A glance at the table just inside the door tells me I am right. Cooling racks laden with cookies crowd the table, and another tray full of fresh-out-of-the-oven cookies yet to be transferred sits on the stove. And IknewI smelled that delicious cookie and cream roll–it's sitting proudly atop a raised cake stand, dusted in powdered sugar and drizzled with ganache.

"Afternoon, Aggie," I greet as I cross the threshold to her home. She's wearing the same old threadbare apron, long-sleeved shirt, and jeans, all of which are dotted with flour, sugar, or batter.

"Good to see you, Artemis. What are you doing over here? Don't those boys of yours keep you busy?" She laughs, rearranging cookies to make space for us to sit and talk. I'm sure this is the first time she's sat down in a while. Some things never change.

"Oh, they do, but I think I might kill one of them today if they don't stop hovering," I grouse, only half joking. The small amount of time Jayhadbeen home this morning consisted of fucking like wild animals, lots of hushed kisses, and hisoverbearing presence demanding my promises to keep out of the forest.

ThenSaint pulled me down into the gym and forced me to work out upon threat of not making me breakfast. I almost gutted him.

"They care about you; it can't be that bad," Aggie chuckles, then asks, "Want something to drink?"

"Sure, thanks. Some juice, please," I answer, settling into a chair.

"Here you go," Aggie says just a second later, lowering herself into the chair across from me. "So, tell me how torturous it is to live with aboy," my aunt laughs, making me chuckle lightly.

I shouldn't be surprised that we're already getting into it; this is the entire reason I came over. Before answering, I swipe a peanut butter chip cookie from one of the many trays, taking an overtly aggressive bite. "It's not …I just don't know what to do."

"What do you mean?"

"Icare aboutbothof them," I answer, hoping she understands what I mean by just that before practically inhaling the rest of my cookie.

"Ahhh," Aggie hums, smirking at me. "And you want to know about Triads?" She sips from her glass, peering at me over the rim.

I gulp before answering with a simple "yes."

"They are tricky for some. Forcing it won't work. You have to know that, right?" Aggie says, selecting a sugar cookie with pink frosting to nibble on.

"Nothingabout this feels forced."