Chapter 5

Raven (15 years old) 

The snow had been coming down since early morning, steady enough that everything looked different by the time the sun came up.

By now, the paths running through the pack lands have been packed down from people walking them all day, the fresh layer pushed off to the sides where it softened everything instead of covering it.

I tug my hoodie sleeves down over my hands as I walk, my breath fogging faintly in front of me.

Jax is a few steps ahead, dragging his feet through the snow as he goes, kicking it up in uneven lines like he’s trying to leave something behind him on purpose. He’s still taller than me by enough that I have to tilt my head when he’s next to me. 

He looks back, his dark hair falling forward a little as he moves. Now that we’re in high school he maintains the longer hair. It’s still got that shaggy look, but it doesn’t stick up in the back anymore. Now it just looks purposeful. I think it suits him. 

‘It suits him?’ Callie snickers in my mind. 

‘Yes, it suits him.’ I answer back matter of factly. 

“You’re doing that on purpose,” I say, stepping over one of the lines he left behind.

He glances back at me again, his grin already there like he’s been waiting for me to say something. “I’m just making sure there’s nothing hiding under all this white stuff, don’t want to trip and fall.”

I look down at the path for a second, then back at him. “It makes it slower.”

“It makes it interesting.”

I shake my head, brushing some snow off my sleeve where it caught. “You said that last time it snowed.”

“And I was right then, too.”

"You're never right."

"That's not true." He bumps his shoulder into mine, throwing me off-balance. "I'm right a lot."

"You just say things confidently and hope no one questions it."

He shrugs. "Basically the same thing."

"It's really not."

He kicks an arc of snow toward me. I dodge it—barely.

"That was on purpose," I say.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he replies, not even trying to sound convincing.

I huff, but feel myself smile anyway.

“So,” he says after a minute, glancing over at me, “is your mom making cookies yet?”

There’s something about the way he says it that makes it sound like he’s already decided he’s getting some.

“Yeah,” I answer, knowing that he saw the mixer in the kitchen yesterday when we left for school. “She started this morning.”

He straightens slightly, like that confirms something important. “Good. Because if I don’t get any this year, I’m gonna take it personally.”

I glance at him, watching the way he says it like it actually matters. “You say that every year.”

“And every year it’s valid.”

“And every year you still get cookies.”

“Not enough,” he mutters, dragging his feet through the snow again before looking at me. “There’s never enough.”

I can’t help it—I start laughing. “You eat half of them before they’re even cooled.”

“That’s because they’re better warm,” he says immediately.

“That’s because you have no self-control.”

He presses a hand to his chest, his expression shifting into exaggerated offense. “That’s not true. I could stop if I wanted to.”

I tilt my head slightly, studying him. “You don’t want to though.”

There’s a pause, just long enough that I think he might argue it.

“Exactly,” he says finally, dropping his hand. “That’s a completely different issue.”

I shake my head, but the warmth from laughing spreads through my body, warming it slightly even though we’re still out in the cold.

We keep walking, the conversation settling into something easier as the trees close in slightly around the path. The snow softens everything, even the quiet, until it feels like the world is moving a little slower.

Jax nudges my arm lightly.

“You’re doing it again.”

I glance at him. “Doing what?”

“That thing where you disappear for a second.”

I almost deny it again, but something about the way he’s watching me makes me hesitate. His eyes are steady, that beautiful sage green that always looks softer in the winter light, like he’s trying to read something I haven’t said out loud.

“I didn’t disappear. I was just thinking. We officially have two weeks off of school and it’s one of the few times we get excused from morning training. I’d really like to sleep in tomorrow.”

“You did,” he says, pointing at me again. “You had that look, and sleeping in? You’re deflecting.”

I let out a small breath through my nose, but I don’t argue again.

“You’re thinking about more than just a break from school,” he says.

“I’m always thinking about something.”

“Yeah, but this is different.”

I glance at him, studying him for a second. “You don’t even know what I’m thinking.”

“I don’t need to,” he says. “I can tell.”

There’s something about the way he says it, the way he sounds so confident and sure of himself.

‘You like the way he notices you.’

I pretend not to hear her. Callie has been teasing me more often about Jax, and I’m not sure why. It makes a knot form in my stomach and gives me a nervous feeling. I can’t think about that right now.

I try and deflect from his piercing gaze. “That’s annoying.”

“It’s a skill.”

“It’s not.”

He grins, like he’s already decided he’s right anyway.

We walk a little farther before the trees start to thin out, the path opening back up toward where it splits.

“This is where I go,” he says, slowing.

“Yeah.”

We stop, neither of us moving right away. I don’t know why either of us lingers like this lately. 

“I’ll probably come by later,” he adds. “For the cookies.”

I glance at him, knowing he’s serious. “Of course you will.”

“I have priorities.”

“They’re all food.”

“Not all of them.”

I raise an eyebrow slightly.

“Most of them,” he corrects.

“That’s fair.”

I shift my weight, the cold slowly starting to creep in now that we’ve stopped walking.

“I’ll see you later,” I say.

“Yeah,” he answers, stepping back. “Don’t eat all of them before I get there.”

I hesitate just slightly before answering. “No promises.”

“That’s rude.”

“You’ll survive.”

He laughs off my comment. “Barely.”

I watch him turn, his dark hair catching a little snow as he moves, his steps quiet against the path. I hesitate for a second, thinking about calling something after him. But I don’t know what I’d say. 

I just stand there until he disappears far enough into the trees that I can’t hear him anymore. Then I turn and head towards home.

The quiet settles in around me, softer this time, and for a moment I focus on the sound of my own steps, the steady rhythm grounding enough that everything else fades away. Well, not everything.. not completely.

Jax

The café had been loud earlier, not enough to be annoying, just enough that everyone had been talking over each other without really noticing it. 

The windows had fogged up from the heat inside while the cold pressed against the glass from outside, and Raven had been sitting across from me with her hands wrapped around her cup even after it stopped steaming, her hair catching the light in a way that made the white stand out even more against everything else.

“You are not doing track again,” Ethan had said.

“I might,” she’d answered, shrugging a little. “It’s not that bad.”

“It’s literally running in circles.” I could hear him scoffing, and something about it didn’t sit right with me. 

“That’s most things if you think about it too hard.”

She’d smiled when she said it, just enough to keep it from turning into an argument, and when she looked up for a second, her eyes shifted in a way that caught my attention without me really understanding why.

They were still blue, but not the same kind of blue they usually are. It was deeper, more earthy, like there was something else behind them for just a second before it was gone.

It didn’t last long. And then it hit me. Callie. She must’ve pushed forward for a moment. I didn’t say anything about it though. 

My feet drag through the snow now as I walk, not the same as earlier though. This is different. I follow the path a little farther than I need to before turning toward home.

‘You noticed it again.’ Ansel’s voice comes through easily.

‘Yeah,’ I answer, glancing down at the ground. ‘She said something felt off.’

‘She says that a lot.’

‘I know,’ I say, pushing my hands deeper into my hoodie pocket as the cold starts to dig in more now that I’m not distracted. But the memory sticks longer than it should.

‘It’s not always like that.’ I add.

There’s a brief pause.

‘You’re paying more attention now.’

I stop, glancing back over my shoulder without really thinking about it, even though I already know I won’t see her. There’s not enough snow on the trees to cover them, so even from behind, her hair wouldn’t blend in. 

‘Maybe.’

The path behind me is empty. Still, I don’t look away just yet.

‘Maybe?’

I shift my weight. I ignore his question, looking down again as I start walking forward.

‘I don’t think about it. I’m not sure why, I just do.’ It’s the only answer I give, because that’s easier.

But I know my wolf, he won’t let it go. I can’t lie to myself when he’s in my head.

‘No, you know why. If you don’t want to admit it to anyone else, you shouldn’t lie to yourself.’

I let out a slow breath, watching it disappear into the cold air.

‘She was fine,’ I say. ‘She laughed, she argued… there wasn’t anything big. So it doesn’t matter.’

‘Not everything has to be big to matter.’

I shake my head slightly, not because I disagree, but because I don’t have anything better to say.

‘You’re not helping.’

His voice is more firm this time ‘I’m not trying to. I don’t see a reason to lie to myself, especially when no one else can hear me.’

I stop, realizing what he’s doing. That almost makes me laugh. But it wouldn’t do me any good, even to admit it to him. We still have over two years before we’ll know one way or the other. No matter what I feel, it won’t matter until then. 

I keep walking, the cold settling in deeper now, my focus shifting back to the path ahead.

‘I don’t want to lie to myself. But what if I’m wrong,’ I think again, quieter this time.

‘What if you’re not?’ He counters. 

‘If I’m not… I hadn’t thought about it like that. But still, we still have over two years before we’ll know anyways.’

Ansel doesn’t argue. He just stays there, letting his presence linger. And that makes it harder to ignore.

I glance back one more time, knowing it’s pointless, before turning forward again, picking up my pace slightly.

The thought doesn’t leave. What if I’m not wrong. What if this feeling is real. It just stays there, lingering in the front of my mind. And I don’t really know why.

I reach my house, walking up the porch and reaching for the door. As I go to turn the handle, I hear a crash. I charge inside, looking for the source of the noise. That’s when I see it. 

My dad is on the floor, he passed out again. My mom is coming out of the kitchen, rushing over to him. She must not have felt it coming this time. I push the door closed, feeling guilty that I lingered on my way home. If I had been here, I might’ve seen it. 

There’s broken glass on the floor, and I realize dad must’ve been standing, holding a glass, when it happened. It’s becoming more frequent.

“Jackson, can you get your father up on the couch while I clean this up?”

My mom’s voice is soft, but it’s laced with worry. Her mate is suffering and there’s nothing she can do. 

I carry Dad to the couch, his weight familiar in my arms. From the kitchen comes Mom's sharp intake of breath.

Blood seeps through the dish towel wrapped around her finger. I take her hand, unwrapping it gently. I lick the wound—not the full healing Dad could do, but enough. The blood slows.

She cups my face, her eyes soft. "I’m so lucky. I have such a caring son."

"I'm the lucky one," I whisper. "Let Sandra finish healing it. I'll clean up."

Mom settles into her vigil chair beside Dad, one hand in her lap, the other moving through his hair. The angry red of her cut fades to pink as Sandra, her wolf, starts healing her.

“Jackson,” she looks away from dad, resolve heavy in her eyes. “I know your dad will be upset. But I can’t put this off anymore. He has to move to the pack house.”