Page 53 of A Nest of Maple & Mist

“I assaulted him with a plate,” I wailed.

“You missed,” Fern shrugged. “It was a warning shot.”

“Maybe no more throwing things at him. Or anyone.” Lily grimaced, looking abashed for calling me out.

“You’re right,” I sighed.

“Tell us what happened,” Fern said.

For the next hour, I spilled my guts. I told them the whole story while I sobbed into a hot apple cider Lily passed me. With the back of my hand, I wiped the snot and tears away.

“I told Shane I needed time.”

“That’s fair,” Fern said.

“Donuts help,” Hazel added, pushing a plate of powdered ones toward me.

A watery chuckle fell from my lips as I took a bite, savoring the tart apple tang on my tongue.

“Time is good,” Lily hummed. “But Shane had an impossible choice. Could he have handled things better? Sure. But he was trying to protect you in the only way he knew how.”

My shoulders sagged. “I am the bad guy, holding on to some grudge.”

“You’re not the bad guy,” Fern said, exasperated. “You’re hurt. Probably scared. And your omega never knew that pain, so it’s probably confusing. You’re allowed to be cautious.”

“Fern’s right,” Hazel added. “And Mia, your omega is already reacting to your scent-matched pack. Your scent is stronger, and no amount of suppressants are going to stop your heat from coming if you continue to stay so close to them.”

My heart fluttered, my omega pleased that someone was finally taking notice of her. I had read about breakthrough heats when an omega found their scent match.

“I’m scared.”

The admission made my breaths come a little easier. I hadn’t relied on anyone since my parents died, and the idea of letting go with my scent-matched pack—one of them who had already hurt me once before—terrified me.

“It’s okay to be scared. It means it’s real. But you wouldn’t scent match to the Hawthorne Pack if they weren’t your perfect mates, Mia,” Fern smiled. “Besides, this is excellent book fodder for you. I mean… C’mon. I know you’ve had writer’s block. But you are living your second chance romance.”

“Oh. She’s right. Shane is the grumpy alpha,” Lily giggled.

“You need to torment him a little longer then. Draw out the angst,” Hazel added.

“Stop,” I laughed, tossing a pumpkin-shaped throw pillow at Hazel. She ducked at the last minute, winking as it tumbled harmlessly into the grass. “He is not a trope!”

“Sure, Jan,” Fern hummed, imitating that meme I saw all over the place.

A sudden rustle cut through our laughter. Dark fur mixed with orange trotted toward our picnic spread. Umbra’s fluffy tail swished through the air like the queen she knew she was. She sat expectantly, eyeing the tray of pumpkin scones.

“Here, you horrible beggar,” Fern huffed, tossing an entire scone in Umbra’s direction.

The fox chuffed, snuggling with her hard-won kill.

Despite how scared I was, maybe I could give this pack thing a chance. A real chance. Even though it terrified me.

TWENTY

JASON

Mud had dried into a thick crust on my boots, leaving dirt crumbs in my wake as I crossed the porch. My stiff spine cracked as I rolled my shoulders. I’d spent most of the day lugging crates filled with maple syrup.

Fern insisted we host a pancake breakfast on the first day of the Maple Festival. Which meant we needed more gallons at the event space.