"She'soffended?I'mthe one who—"
"Just give her a second," he murmurs, his large fingers gently scratching the base of her neck.
I reach out and rest my fingers lightly on her back. She holds the sulk for another beat and then slowly leans into it. A low, vibrating sound starts up in her chest. Somewhere between a purr and a coo.
"Is she purring?" I whisper, surprised. I didn't know chickens could do that.
"She does that when she's happy," Arthur says, his voice gentle.
I stroke along her feathers and Clementine's eyes drift shut. Warm under my hand. Impossibly soft.
"See?" Arthur says. "She likes you."
"She had a funny way of showing it."
"Like someone else I know," Knox murmurs from the couch, not looking up from his water.
"What?" I say.
"What?" he replies.
Mason stands up. "We should get her back. Take her down to the Lake's Edge before Bill arrives to pick her up."
It seems like a lot of effort for an old farmer to come all the way to a bar just to pick up a chicken, but looking at Clementine, I get it. She's clearly the star of the show, and Bill must be devastated he couldn't attend the after game.
Arthur nods, wrapping Clementine more securely. She makes a small, disgruntled sound but doesn't open her eyes.
Knox drains his glass and stands. "Alright, Clemmie. Road trip."
As they start moving toward the door, a sudden, sharp ache blooms in my chest. It's my stupid omega biology throwing a tantrum because her alphas are leaving her. Which is ridiculous, considering I'm the one actively considering leaving them for real.
I watch Knox and Mason walk past me, and my heart pinches. I feel like the physical distance between us mirrors the emotional wall that appeared since my confession. I can feel how much they've pulled back, giving me space. I can't blame them—honestly, it's probably the safest thing for them to do if I really am selling the shop—but damn, that distance still hurts.
"T—Thanks," I manage as Arthur passes me on his way out. "For, the heroic chicken rescue."
He stops and turns. The soft, impossibly fond way he looks down at me makes the frantic buzzing in my brain just... stop.
"You don't have to thank me," he says.
"I just..." I swallow hard, looking down at the floorboards. "I've been causing you guys nothing but stress lately. I don't know if I really deserve to be rescued."
He shifts Clementine to one arm, reaching out with his free hand to gently tip my chin up.
"Well, saving you makes me feel quite good about myself." A small smile touches his lips. "That has to count for something."
25
Beth
I think Clementine's been my lucky charm.
The overall vibe at the apartment has been surprisingly light since the night she chased me down the hall. The alphas are still a little pulled back, but it’s nothing compared to how things were after I announced the buyout offer.
On Wednesday, I sent an order of forty-six centerpieces, twelve garlands and two ceremony arches for the Bellamy-Hirsch wedding. Cecilia, the wedding planner, called me personally to tell me I nailed it.
Thursday, Luna, Harper, and I finally nailed down the bachelorette. Maren handled logistics. Luna handled the inevitable opinions of the other guests, and I handled Luna not strangling anyone over said opinions. If I'm being honest, the division of labor proved quite effective.
And right now, I'm three glasses into a reserve Cab Franc at a vineyard in wine country, the first stop on Harper's bachelorette. The sun is warm on my bare shoulders, and Luna is currently losing her mind.
