Chapter 37

Grace

As the Winter Moon Festival drew near, I found myself immersed in a whirlwind of activity. Juggling the responsibilities of preparing for the pack’s celebration and preparing to return to school at the beginning of the spring term was no easy feat. The holiday season brought a sense of joy and excitement, but it also meant that my schedule was busier than ever.

The Winter Moon Festival held a special place in the hearts of the pack members. It was a time of unity and camaraderie, a chance for everyone to come together and celebrate the strength of our community. And this year, as the newly reinstated pack leader, I felt a renewed sense of responsibility to ensure that the Festival was a success.

Amidst the preparations, I was reminded of how much had changed since Charles entered my life. He was a constant presence, offering his assistance and expertise to help with the arrangements.

“Why are you making that face?” Charles asked, chuckling as he walked into the dining room where I was going through an album of past Winter Moon Festivals.

“I’m just brainstorming,” I said, smiling. “The Winter Moon Festival is coming up.”

I frowned and tilted my head. “Do lycans celebrate it the same way?”

“Probably,” he said. “Bonfires? Food? A speech here or there?”

I nodded as he sank down beside me. “I guess it would be the same.”

“If you need help planning, let me know,” he lifted a shoulder. “The preparations for the clans are done already.”

I nodded. “I appreciate that, but don’t you have other things to worry about?”

He smiled. “If I had to be that hands-on among the Clan preparations, I’d have to hire new staff.”

One evening, as we worked side by side in the pack gathering center, organizing decorations and finalizing the festival schedule, I couldn’t help but admire how effortlessly Charles blended in with the pack members. No one seemed to recognize him or snub his help. They did, however, appreciate his strength and help. I was almost certain that he’d brought a few Enforcers to help too, but they blended in with the rest of the pack too.

“What’s missing?” I asked.

“Firewood,” Charles said, his gaze focused on a list of tasks in his hand. “There’s almost never enough firewood to burn through the night. Are you planning an area for games?”

I nodded. “We usually have it on the street around the center. We keep the hall free for the baked goods trade.”

He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I have to admit, I’m looking forward to seeing the pack come together during the Festival. And this baked goods trade?”

I grinned. “I’ll tell you about it later.”

He shrugged and headed off with a group of men from the pack to go gather firewood. Looking around at everyone who had gathered to help clean up and repair the gathering center made my heart light. Journalists took photos, but it felt like that was what should be happening.

“Alpha Wolfe, a few words?”

I approached the woman, a little nervous, but I smiled.

“Is it true you plan to host the Winter Moon Festival?” She asked. “There hasn’t been a festival in almost five years. Do you want to comment on why? What changed your mind?”

I swallowed and looked back at the rest of the people moving around.

“The Festival has always been a time for laughter, shared stories, and a strong sense of belonging. It’s a reminder of everything we should be grateful for in a way that the Harvest Moon Festival isn’t, and a time of renewal.” I turned back to look at her. “When my father died, I… wasn’t in a place for laughter. I didn’t feel like I belonged without him here… It’s taken a long time, a lot of mistakes, and… well, luck to get here, and I want to celebrate that.”

“There are rumors that the pack is bankrupt. Are you sure it’s wise to host the Festival when people are being laid off left and right?”

My stomach jolted at the question. “You shouldn’t believe everything you hear. The pack is doing just fine, improving. I admit that there’s been a learning curve, but I am learning.”

The reporter looked at me for a long moment before nodding.

“Do you plan on bringing your children?”

“Yes!” I laughed. Cecil has made me promise to revive the cookie decoration contest. She’s determined to make a good showing.”

She laughed. “And you have another child, right?”

I nodded. “Richard, though he’ll probably be too busy trying to eat his fist to do much cookie decoration. He’ll at least enjoy the fireworks!”

When the journalist had asked all of her questions, I went back to join the rest of the workers on the other side. I took down notes for the repairs. Charles came back with at least three trees worth of firewood and a beaming smile. When we called it a day, we headed back home together. When we got back to the house, Charles made dinner while I went looking for my dad’s cookbook. I got Cecil and Richard to bed son after Kelly left and was grateful to simply have the time to plan my course of action.

“Need help?” I looked up as he entered. “I’m not much of a baker, but I can measure things.”

I smiled. My fingers traced the faded words of my father’s old recipe book, each page a treasure trove of memories and flavors from my childhood.

“Help would be great,” I said. “Adult help anyway. I’ve got a lot of cookies to bake.”

He walked to stand behind me and looked down at the book.

“What’s on the menu?” Charles’s voice was low and soothing.

I chuckled, glancing at the recipe in front of us. “Chocolate chip cookies have to be on the list, but so are basic sugar cookies for the contest.”

“What’s your favorite cookie?”

I grinned. “My dad called it the Kitchen Sink.”

“Full of more things than dough?” I nodded. He smiled, the corners of his lips quirking up in a way that sent a pleasant shiver down my spine. “I’m a fan of those myself, especially when the dough isn’t too sweet.”

“I’ll need to check to see if we have it all and get a grocery list together…”

“We’ll make a list, and I’ll get it brought.”

I was about to protest, but I held back and nodded. “Thanks.”

He smiled. “You’re learning.”

Together, we took an inventory of the kitchen. I built a list of ingredients for all the cookies that had to be made and checked the plans to get the gathering center’s kitchen certified for use.

As we worked side by side, our conversation flowed effortlessly, moving from lighthearted topics to deeper discussions. I found myself swept up in it. I could see myself doing this for the rest of my life.

“I’d really like a cookie,” I said, pulling down a bowl. “Since we have to go shopping anyway, I’m just going to make a batch of each to make sure I still know what I’m doing.”

“Sounds like a plan to me.”

He wasn’t a baker, but neither was I. Somehow, we fumbled our way through each recipe. Laughing as we spilled flour. A batch was half burnt, but we saved enough to taste. And I felt relaxed. It was as if the act of baking had created a cocoon around us, a safe space where we could just be two people without titles or baggage.

It was fun.

“Thank you, Charles,” I said, my voice soft but earnest.

“For saving the cookies?” He chuckled. “I promise that was mostly selfishly motivated.”

I shook my head. “That too, but for being here. It means more to me than I can express.”

And then, in that intimate kitchen, with the scent of freshly baked cookies swirling around us, I felt just like before. The moment was perfect for a kiss. Perfect for more. My doubts and questions were gone, and I felt myself being pulled in by his eyes.

“Grace…” He said softly, his gaze dropping to my lips.

I bit my lip. I wanted so much to just pull him close, flour and all. To breathe in that scent, I couldn’t name just yet. To taste his mouth like before. It was all I could think about. Just when I thought I was going to give in or he was going to give in, the jarring ring of Charles’s phone shattered the intimacy of the moment.

I pulled back, startled as the spell broke. He pulled away with a regretful smile, his hand moving to his pocket to retrieve the device.

“I'm sorry, Grace," he said apologetically, glancing at the screen. "I have to take this."

I nodded, my cheeks flushed from what I was about to do. I dumped the burnt cookies in the trash and put the rest in the cookie jar. As he stepped away to take the call, I took a steadying breath, my heart still racing from the unexpected turn of events.

He was so dangerous, or maybe I wanted it more than I first thought.