Page 102 of Pack Rivals: Part Two
“Why do you say that, Bea?”
“I want to forgive them. I want to forget about the hurt they caused me and start over. But should I? Should I forgive them?”
“I think you should do whatever you believe is best. There’s no right or wrong, Bea. There’s only how you feel.” She offers me her wine glass and I take another sip, the sharp white wine stinging my throat. “How do you feel?”
I hold out my hand and mime a bomb falling through the air and exploding on the ground. “Boom,” I say.
“Still? With all of them?”
“Yep, I get these little explosions in my belly and in my chest every time I’m with one of them and, oh my gosh, it multiplies ten fold, when they’re all together.” I hand her back her glass. “It never felt that way with Karl. It’s never felt that way with anyone before. They say we were destined to be a pack. That we’re meant to be together, and I think they might be right. Is that crazy?”
Courtney sniffles, wiping at her face. “No, no it’s not, Bea. If anyone deserves two hot packs, the two hottest packs in the city, it’s you.”
“I don’t know about that …”
“They seem to believe so and for what it’s worth I don’t think they’d be going to all this effort for you if they weren’t serious.”
I nod. They did seem serious. Deadly serious. And confident in their belief that the seven of us belonged together and that kind of belief, that kind of confidence, is damn infectious.
“So what happens next?”
“I said I’d think about things–”
“Good, good girl, let them stew a little longer.”
“But I think I’ve made up my mind.” I think I made it driving Axel’s car. I think I made it sitting with all of them at dinner like we were already one happy family. I think I made it when Hardy handed me the key he’d carved. “I want to give this a try.”
Courtney dives at me, spilling the rest of her wine all over our laps, and engulfs me in her hug. “I’m so happy for you.” She squeezes me, then jolts her head back. “But, wait, does this mean I’m losing my roomie?”
“I don’t know about that. I think moving in is a little too quick and besides I don’t think I want to give up the beach.” The engine noise has died away, leaving the noise of the waves pounding the beach. The waves and something else. “What’s that?” I say, craning my head.
“Huh?” Courtney says.
“That noise.”
We’re both quiet, listening. Outside the window, we can hear the sounds of rustling.
“An animal?” Courtney suggests, then smiles. “Or perhaps your midnight chef.”
It could be Nate, but he just fed me an entire banquet up at the house. It seems unlikely.
I place my finger to my lip, then creep to the window and peer out into the dark. I can’t see anything. Dark clouds hang over the moon tonight and I can barely make out the sand dunes. Courtney tiptoes to the light switch and flicks on the outdoor light. There’s no one there.
“Must have been an animal,” Courtney says.
“I guess,” I whisper, but I double check all the doors are locked just in case.
* * *
In the morning,I call the ecological association and check they’ve received my application. I expect to receive a curt yes or no, but instead the receptionist patches me through to the lady in charge of the training program.
“Bea Carsen …” she says, and I can hear her tapping keys in the background. “Oh yes, we have received your application.”
“Oh good,” I say, wondering if I should just hang up, then reminding myself I want this job and here’s my opportunity to make a good impression. “Did you have any questions about it?”
“Hmmm,” I can hear her thumb rocking the wheel of her mouse, “we very much liked your personal statement. Not everyone’s prepared to get their hands dirty when it comes to ecological work, but it sounds like you already have. You seem very passionate.”
“I am. I love the beach and I want to help protect it,” I say, hoping my words don’t seem lame. I’ve never done the whole interview thing before.
