Page 6 of Emerald Moon (Pitch Mountain Pack #2)

four

Jo noticed the sun was in a slightly different spot than when their alarm first went off. In a panic, they looked at the clock on their phone and jumped out of bed, knocking over a stack of books and stepping on a pile of half-clean clothes next to the bed.

Their side of the room was all about maximalist living.

Every surface was covered in books, figurines, trinkets they’d purchased at conventions, and games for systems they no longer had but they still liked the art, so they kept the case.

The walls were also covered in band posters and fan art hung up on a string of lights that zig-zagged along the wall.

Jo calculated what could get done before making it to their bakery shift at an acceptable, only slightly late arrival time.

They had enough time to get dressed in something presentable enough for the back of the bakery — thank goodness they didn’t work in the front — and they could brush their teeth and wash their face. That was about it.

There was no time for food or coffee. They could grab something that was going stale at the bakery later, but coffee was an issue until they had a break and could go across the street to the famously popular vampire-coven owned cafe across the street.

Jo had been told several times that caffeine had no real effect on werewolves at normal quantities, but they swore it still helped them when they woke up around noon or a little after if things hadn’t gone according to plan.

Jo walked through the back door of Violet Moon looking a bit messy, but they were only five minutes late. There was a thin sheen of sweat on their forehead from rushing in the humid summer air.

“Sorry, Emmaline!” Jo grabbed their apron from where it was hanging on the wall. “Overslept. Again.”

“No worries, hon.” Emmaline looked up from where she was working pastry dough. Her box braids were tied back with one of her colorful scarves. “Just slow down a little before you get to prepping fruit. Knives and anxiety don’t mix well.”

“You’re right.” Jo paused and, shutting their eyes for a moment, took a deep breath and let it out slowly. When they opened their eyes again, Emmaline was smiling.

“The pears are washed and ready if you want to start with those.”

Jo walked towards their station. “Aye, aye, captain!”

Emmaline laughed.

“You keep telling me not to call you ‘ma’am’ so I’ve got to have something,” Jo pointed out, starting their work as Emmaline got back to hers.

“As long as it’s not ma’am, it’s fine by me,” she said.

Jo could relate, remembering when they used to work out front and customers would say, “yes ma’am” to them often.

They understood the impulse. They’d grown up in the South, too, and knew the knee-jerk reaction to say “ma’am” or “sir” to not be rude, but they’d been using it less frequently because if they hated it for their own reasons, maybe other people did, too.

They looked at the slowly growing pile of pear slices and thought about the pride Cass said she took in her work at her pack’s butcher shop.

Jo felt the same here. It was just neatly sliced pears, but it was satisfying work.

Each careful slice brought a comforting sort of ease with it and when they saw the picture-perfect tartlets out front, they knew they helped make them and it felt good.

As they were finishing pears and moving on to strawberries, Lock came in from the front carrying an empty tray destined to hold more tartlets or hand pies. “Got another empty,” he called out, “and Jo, you’ve got a visitor.”

Jo’s immediate thought was Cass. Their stomach flipped.

It couldn’t be Cass. They’d never seen her in Violet Moon before.

But that didn’t necessarily mean she would never come.

What would they say to her? Things had been great on the drive back home, but since then they’d had time to overthink the maybe kiss and they didn’t know if they could be normal now.

Lock gave them a funny, lopsided look. “Did you get stuck or something?”

“Nope! I’m fine,” they replied, wiping their hands on their apron. “Let me just — I’ll be right out.”

“It’s your friend with the rainbow hair,” he said.

Relief washed over them. It was Krista. Nothing to worry about.

Their shoulders relaxed and they walked out to the front of Violet Moon where they were greeted by conversations, classical music playing on the speakers, and Krista waving with both hands.

Her rainbow-streaked hair had faded, but it still matched her personality.

“You never texted me back yesterday,” Krista offered as a greeting before hopping over to wrap Jo in a too-hard hug. Like Jo, Krista was short, so it was one of the few times when they could get a hug without being jabbed in the neck by someone’s clavicle.

Krista bounced in their arms. “You left me hanging! I hear about the — the —“ She glanced around. “The kiss and then you give me nothing!”

“Sorry. Mom called.” Jo extracted themselves from the hug.

“Ouch. That sucks.”

“And I picked up. Like an idiot. Then I promptly got all worked up, wolfed out, and ruined a t-shirt.” They sighed. “At least it’s not happening all the time now.”

“Aw, babe. I’m sorry.” Her entire body slumped.

“It’s okay.” Jo smiled to make her perk back up. “Wil helped me come back. I wish I knew what I did when the wolf was out, though. I woke up more sore than that time we went on that so-called easy hike and ended up basically rock climbing.”

Krista’s grin returned. “It almost wasn’t worth it, but the steak dinner we had afterwards made it good. Remember how fancy everyone was?”

“And how disgusting we were? Yeah, good times.”

“So,” Krista dragged out the sounds of the word. “I just stopped by super quick to get a hand pie before work, but —“ She waggled her eyebrows. “I needed to hear what you were thinking.”

“About?” Jo ignored the twisty sensation in their stomach, knowing what she was talking about.

“Oh come on!”

They scrunched up their face. “I don’t know! I mean, I guess I do. I don’t want to kiss her again, if that’s what you mean. Except, we didn’t even kiss the first time! So there’s nothing to repeat.”

“Do you still want to hang out with her? Or has the weirdness made that ship sail far away?”

“No, no. I still want to see her. And it’s not weird because nothing happened.” Jo stressed the final two words and leaned in towards her for emphasis.

Krista rolled her eyes playfully. “Sure. Whatever you say. All I’m saying is Cass came home awfully chatty. She had a lot to say about you.”

Jo couldn’t help their curiosity. “Like what?”

“Just how fun and easy to talk to you were. Cass doesn’t share much, except with me and her brother sometimes, so it was nice to see her so animated. And, what do you care? You’re not interested or anything.” Krista’s tone had a teasing lilt that they didn’t love.

“Not like that, no. You know how I am! I get crushes on new friends super easily. They hit like that.” Jo snapped their fingers. “With Cass? Nothing. Not a hint of awkwardness or clinginess after our initial nerves in the car.”

She shrugged. “Maybe that’s a good thing. All your crushes end in friendship anyway. Maybe this one feels different for a reason.”

“Or maybe I’m finally over all that nonsense. Man, I hope that’s the case.”

“Maybe,” she replied in a noncommittal way. “Either way, we’re all hanging out sometime. Soon! Okay?”

“Sounds good. Just, you know, run it by me before so I can see if I’m up for it that day. Never know which version of me is getting up that morning.”

Krista gave them a gentle smile. “Of course.” Her smart watch buzzed. “Heck, that’s my warning that I’ve got to book it to work now. Okay, hug, hand pie, and I’m out of here.” She crushed Jo in another hug before stepping towards the counter. “I mean it. Let’s hang soon!”

Jo waved on their way back to the kitchen. “Absolutely. Just tell me when.”

After Emmaline left and their shift ended, Jo lingered in the bakery kitchen.

They stuck out their tongue as they carefully piped a red, jammy filling onto half a light blue macaron.

There were several macaron shells in front of them, some more circle-like than others.

Their short, always messy hair poked out at odd angles and the tips of some light brown strands were dyed blue from the food coloring they’d used earlier.

Billie, another packmate who took over running the back when Emmaline left, called out across the kitchen, “Those for out front finally?”

“Hardly. Look at these things.” They held up one shell. “These are a long way from making it out into the cases. It’s not like what you, Emmaline, or even Lock make.”

Billie wiped her hands on her apron and walked over, giving the macarons a glance.

“Way better than the ones you made the other night. Progress, or something like that.” She shrugged and tilted her head to the side, her cotton-candy pink hair falling in her eyes.

“How long are you staying? You going to be in my way?”

“I’ll keep to my little zone!”

Billie glanced at the long line of used mixing bowls and baking trays on the counter next to Jo. She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow.

“I’ll clean up and then keep to my little zone,” they promised.

“What flavor are these anyway?” She asked, picking up one macaron half. “Blueberry because they’re blue? But the filling is red. I have no idea.”

“Raspberry.”

“So why the blue?”

“Blue raspberry is a thing! Inexplicably. But also the red food coloring made my hands look like they were covered in splotchy blood last time and I didn’t feel like scrubbing my hands to death again.”

“And blue hands are somehow better?”

“They’re less horror movie, yes. Also, the pastel blue is cute.”

“If you say so. But blue is so last month,” she said, having had blue hair the month prior. She gestured towards Jo’s mess. “Just let me do my thing and we’ll be fine.”

“I wouldn’t dream of getting in your way.”

“Good.”

“‘Cause you’re scary when you’re mad.”