Redeem: A Southern Werewolves Novella by Heather MacKinnon

Author:Heather MacKinnon [MacKinnon, Heather]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-04-21T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

Aubrey

“Aubie! I think these are done!”

I only had seconds to process her words before I heard the creak of the oven opening.

“No!” I screamed as I lurched toward her.

But it was too late.

She’d already opened the door all the way and even now, I could see steam billowing out.

“What are you doing?” I yelled as I hurried over to her.

Mom took the tray of cream puff shells out of the oven while I watched in horror. “You don’t want to overcook these, honey.”

I threw on some oven mitts and yanked the tray out of her hand. Little pastry balls went flying all over the kitchen and I threw the baking sheet onto the counter with a huff. “Why would you take those out?”

Mom shrugged as she picked up a couple shells and put them back on the tray. “I was just trying to help, Aubie. I know you’ve been struggling today so I’ve been checking on your pastries for you.”

My stomach knotted as my hands started to shake. “What do you mean you’ve been checking on my pastries?”

“I took them out and shoved a toothpick in the biggest one to make sure they were done.”

I squeezed my eyes closed and took a deep breath. Then one more. “You’ve been taking my profiteroles out of the oven all day?” I asked, my voice barely audible. I was so fucking mad I knew if I raised my voice even a little I’d start screaming.

I’d been dealing with this difficult ass choux pastry all day not understanding why so many of the puffs were coming out and then deflating. I’d thought I was losing my mind or at the very least losing my touch.

Turns out, I’d been sabotaged.

“Isn’t that how you check to see if something is done?” she asked, her voice squeaking at the end.

“Yeah, maybe a store-bought boxed cake! Not a delicate choux pastry!”

Mom’s shoulders hunched as she took a step away from the oven. “I’m sorry, Aubie. I was just trying to help.”

“I’ve told you not to call me that.”

She winced. “I’m sorry.”

I watched her practically curling in on herself as I seethed with anger. I wanted to lash out at her some more but stopped before I could even open my mouth.

She’d said she was sorry. She hadn’t meant to fuck up my pastries. I needed to calm down and let it go.

Or I ran the risk of being as big of an asshole as my father.

“It’s okay,” I said between gritted teeth. “Just, please don’t help me unless I ask for it.”

Mom looked up and nodded. “Of course. I’m so sorry. I was just trying to help.”

I sighed heavily and bent to pick up the shells I’d dropped. “It’s okay, Mom. This is just a really delicate dough. It needs steam to rise and when you take them out too soon, the steam escapes and the pastry collapses. That’s what’s been happening all day.”

Mom gasped. “I’ve been ruining your cream puffs all day?”

I shrugged as I continued to clean up.

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