Chapter 154
The days felt longer without Jake around. The house was quieter, save for the usual buzz of activity from the workers and the occasional giggles of Lily and Logan. I hadn’t realized how much I’d grown used to Jake’s brooding presence until it wasn’t there anymore.
But something else had shifted in the packhouse—Tammy.
After her unexpected show of competence and kindness during the pack’s little health scare, she seemed... different. Or maybe it was just that I was seeing a different side of her, one that wasn’t cloaked in sarcasm and thinly veiled malice.
That morning, I found her in the kitchen, of all places. She was chopping vegetables, her movements precise and efficient.
“Good morning,” I said cautiously, half-expecting a snarky reply.
To my surprise, she glanced up and nodded. “Morning.”
I hovered near the counter, unsure of what to do. “What are you making?”
“Soup,” she said simply. “For the kids. Some of them are still recovering.”
“Oh.” I wasn’t sure what else to say.
“You’re staring,” she said after a moment, her lips twitching in what might have been a smile.
I laughed awkwardly. “Sorry. I just... didn’t expect to see you here.”
She shrugged. “I had some time. Figured I’d make myself useful.”
It wasn’t much of an explanation, but it was enough to make me curious. I decided to push my luck.
“Do you need help?”
Tammy raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. “You cook?”
“Not well,” I admitted. “But I can chop things without losing a finger.”
She smirked. “Alright, Ayla. Let’s see what you’ve got.”
To my surprise, working alongside Tammy wasn’t as awkward as I’d expected. She didn’t talk much, but her instructions were clear, and she didn’t seem to mind my questions.
“Why didn’t you ever tell anyone you knew so much about medicine?” I asked as I diced a carrot.
She hesitated, her knife pausing mid-slice. “Didn’t seem important.”
“Not important? You practically saved half the pack the other day.”
She shrugged again, avoiding my gaze. “It’s just something I learned growing up. My father thought it was useful.”
The mention of Joseph made me pause. I wanted to press further, to ask her about what I’d seen between them, but I decided against it. Tammy wasn’t the type to open up easily, and I didn’t want to push too hard.
Instead, I changed the subject. “The soup smells amazing.”
She glanced at me, her expression softening just a little. “Thanks. Don’t mess up the carrots.”
By the time lunch rolled around, the soup was ready, and Tammy had earned herself a round of applause from the workers and a few of the parents who had come by to check on their kids.
She didn’t bask in the praise like I expected her to. Instead, she offered a small, almost shy smile and quickly retreated to her room.
I found myself following her, unsure of what I was even going to say. When I knocked on her door, she opened it just a crack, her expression wary.
“What do you want, Ayla?”
“I just wanted to say thanks,” I said honestly. “You’ve been... different lately. In a good way.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Don’t get used to it.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Fair enough.”
For a moment, we stood there in silence. I could tell she was debating whether to say something, but in the end, she just nodded and closed the door.
The rest of the day passed uneventfully, but Tammy lingered in my thoughts. She was still guarded, still prickly, but there were cracks in her armor. Little glimpses of vulnerability that made me wonder who she really was beneath all the layers of arrogance and bravado.
That evening, I found her in the garden, sitting on a bench with a book in her lap. She didn’t notice me at first, and I took a moment to study her. She looked peaceful, almost serene, with the soft glow of the setting sun highlighting her features.
“Mind if I join you?” I asked, breaking the silence.
She looked up, startled, but quickly masked her surprise. “It’s a free garden.”
I sat down beside her, leaving enough space to avoid encroaching on her personal bubble. “What are you reading?”
She held up the book—a worn copy of some medical textbook.
“Light reading?” I teased.
She rolled her eyes. “It’s interesting.”
“I’m sure it is,” I said. “You seem to really love this stuff.”
“I do,” she admitted, almost reluctantly. “It’s... rewarding.”
Her honesty caught me off guard, and for a moment, I didn’t know what to say.
“You should do more of it,” I said finally. “If it makes you happy.”
She scoffed. “My father would never allow it. He has... other plans for me.”
Her tone was bitter, and I felt a pang of sympathy.
“You don’t have to do what he says,” I said gently.
Tammy turned to me, her eyes sharp. “You don’t know anything about me, Ayla. Or him.”
I held up my hands in surrender. “You’re right. I don’t. But I know what it’s like to feel trapped.”
Her expression softened, just a little. “Maybe you do.”
\---
We sat in silence for a while after that, the tension between us easing. It was strange—sitting there with Tammy felt almost... normal. Like we weren’t enemies or rivals but two people trying to make sense of their place in the world.
Later that night, as I lay in bed, I couldn’t stop thinking about our conversation. Tammy was still a mystery to me, but for the first time, I felt like I was starting to understand her.
She wasn’t just the spoiled, manipulative brat I’d assumed her to be. She was complicated, flawed, and maybe even a little lost.
And as much as I hated to admit it, I was starting to see her not as a rival but as someone who might just need a friend.
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