Page 18 of Autumn After

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Once the situation with Seamus settled, I headed back to my cabin since Fern told me that was where I could find Willow. Fern was muttering something about mushy eyes when I walked away. My sister was an odd one. I thanked my lucky stars that she and Willow had hit it off. If people like Seamus were going to cause issues, he would need friends.

Inside my cabin, Willow was just getting out of the shower. His face radiated sadness and his shoulders were slumped. I couldn’t bear to tell him about my discussion with the Alpha. I didn’t want to bring him down.

I asked him a couple of times if anything was going on or if he wanted to talk about something, and each time he said that he was just tired.

And I wanted to believe him—I did—but part of his spark seemed to have gone out.

When we got word that his truck was finally fixed, that sadness underneath him seemed to get worse. I thought he’d be happy to have his truck back, but it was almost as if having it done was a kick in the side. I’d half a notion to take him into town, have a human kind of day, and see if that would help, but when I offered, he declined, saying he was just tired.

Just tired.Over and over again, that was his answer. And if he was tired, that would be fine. But other than his words, there was nothing to suggest he was. Something was up, and I hated it.

I hesitated leaving him, but my father had sent word for me to go to the kitchen of all places. Technically mine and Willow’s shifts were done and we could relax so that we could get up early and work tomorrow. Looked like I wasn’t going to be that lucky.

I feared it was an ambush—that the pack was going to tell me that my mate had to go. My conversation with the Alpha had gone well, but it had frazzled me. Maybe it was me who wasoff, not Willow. Ugh, why did this have to be so complicated? Finding my mate had been hard, staying happily mated in my pack should have been a no-brainer.

If that was why I was being called, my decision had already been made. If Willow had to leave, then I would go with him. It wasn’t an option. Did I want to stay here? Absolutely. Was this my home? It always would be. But now my true home—the home that mattered most—was wherever Willow was. And if push came to shove, he was going to win every single time.

“What’s up, Dad?” I asked as I climbed the steps of the main house where the communal kitchen was—the one that fed us all.

“I don’t know. Something’s going on with the ovens. None of them are working.”

A few years back we’d invested in a commercial kitchen—multiple ovens, walk-in refrigerator— everything a chef could dream of. It was great because it allowed us to do what we needed with ease. But it was also the worst when things went wrong. Everything was so fancy with their buttons that it wasn’t always something we could fix ourselves. I wasn’t sure we’d do it the same way if given the choice, but for now, it was what we had.

Even with the amount of kitchen space we had, during the festival we had a hard time keeping up with demand.

“Mind giving it a look?” My father thought because I could tinker with small motors that I understood all machines. Not these ones.

“Sure.” Maybe it was something simple like a reset button. Maybe we’d get really lucky and it was just a blown breaker.

“I already checked plugs and breakers. The ovens are getting power, they just aren’t working,” Dad said.

Well, there goes that idea.

I grabbed the manual and went through every troubleshooting step. Nothing worked. It was weird because one dead oven made sense. Multiple?

“Have you called Al’s Appliances?” I set the manual down.

“Tried that first. They can’t get out here until next week—they’re on vacation. Something about not being able to fly back from Hawaii just to fix our stove,” Dad said with a shrug. I knew my dad hadn’t actually asked them to come back early—that was just Al’s humor.

It still sucked, and it left us with a dilemma. We needed the kitchen for pies. We couldn’t just fake it by grilling burgers and calling it good. We needed dozens and dozens of pies. Not to mention the tons of other baked goods that we made fresh and sold at the festival. That was one of our biggest draws to the festival. Sure, some of the cabins had stoves, but not enough to make what we needed in time.

“Fuck. I’m giving up. None of these are working,” I said, frustration creeping into my voice.

“I tried Google, too.” Dad patted the back of my neck. “What are we going to do?”

“I don’t know. We’ll think of something.” I was lying to both of us, but it was either that or giving up, and that wasn’t an option.

“Hey, you left this at home.” I turned to see my mate standing in the doorway, holding up the clipboard I had kept my to-do list on. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. I wasn’t sure if you would need it.”

“Oh, thanks.” I grabbed it from him, then settled next to his side. When times were tough, it was best to have my mate at my side. My dad had always said that about being near my mom.

“Is everything okay?” he asked, his gaze bobbing between my dad and me.

“Not really.” My father sounded so defeated.

“The ovens aren’t working, the troubleshooting didn’t help, and the repairman’s not available. We can cook dinners on the grill, but it’s the pies and other baked goods for the event that I’m worried about. I don’t know how we’re going to get it all done.” I pulled him in for a hug, one I desperately needed.

“Do they need to be pies?” Willow asked. “Or is that flexible?”