Right, like that worked the first time.But we haven’t pressured her. Not like that pack Fowler told us was stalking Charlotte.
“Let’s not ask her out, per se,” I offer.
Fowler shifts uncomfortably on the couch. “No?”
I sink into the couch and rest my head against the back. “We say that if she wants to give us a second chance, that we’ll prove we’ve changed. Leave the ball in her court.”
Zev and Fowler nod in agreement. It lets Grace decide without the pressure of a date hanging over her head. And if shesays no? Then the chapter is closed for good and we’ll just have to deal with it.
We wouldn’t be the first alpha pack to lose an omega. Surely we won’t be the last.
With no disagreement, the path forward is decided. All that’s left is to see if Grace is open to giving us that second chance.
CHAPTER 23
ZEV
Evenings off for the Reverie cast are so rare. Thankfully, Connor and Grace have it off for Castle Island’s summer festival of lights. It’s one of my favorite things about living in Boston, and my favorite summer nights of the year.
Count me even happier that Grace agreed to spend the night with Connor, Fowler, and I.
It took four tries for me to type out the text to Grace inviting her out. Another two to hit send with how nervous I was. But she messaged back so quickly that my heart nearly somersaulted in my chest.
“I’ll be there.”
I allow hope to swell where there is no confirmed victory. Because it’s coming, right?
The festival is already a zoo by the time our pack shows up. Beach sand, still sun-hot, grits into my socks and the cuffs of my cargo shorts. People roam under ropes of LED tubing and fake paper lanterns, sipping “mermaid” cocktails. The air smells like salt and roasting sweet corn. Kids in flip-flops dart between ice-cream vendors and the taffy stand.
There are easily five hundred people crammed onto the strip between parking lot and surf.
Connor nudges me in the ribs and gestures to the tent where the festival organizers have set up a small makeshift rink for “Festival on Ice!” demonstrations. An overt advertisement for the winter festivities later this year. I don’t know whether to laugh or cry at the way the rink is already melting into a shallow slush pond.
Fowler remains on the boardwalk. He’s on crutches and is getting around okay, but sand is far too uneven for any hope of crutches to work. We’ll have to help him out to the shore later, but I’m not worried about that. All my concern is going to how Grace isn’t here yet. It’s not quite 7 P.M. so she’s notlate. But she’s nothere.
If she’s rejecting us this time around, at least she’s doing us the kindness of not doing it publicly like we did.
We make a triangle in the sand, pointed toward the pier. Connor is the first to ask, “She’s coming, right?”
I shove my hands into my pockets.I sure hope so.“She said yes.”
“Relax,” Fowler says. “She’ll be here.”
We stand there, saying nothing for three more minutes. A quartet of high schoolers with glowing headbands dances past, shrieking with laughter. Someone shouts my name—turns out it’s a dad whose kid I coached earlier this year, and he wants to take a selfie with all of us for his kid’s birthday. The three of us pose, awkward and towering over the dad. Then he and his kid are gone.
Then, finally, we see her. Grace comes hurry into the crowd toward us, wearing denim shorts and a faded tank. Her hair is twisted up casually with sunglasses perched atop her head.
She’s fucking angelic.
Grace strides up and stops in front of us. “Hey! Finally made it.” She reaches over to hug Fowler so he doesn’t have to move far, then hugs Connor and me.
“We’re glad you’re here,” Connor says.
Fowler’s eyes wander her body. He doesn’t even try to hide it. “You look beautiful.”
Grace blushes. “Thank you. Must be the festival energy, though. This place looks amazing.”
“Have you never been?” I ask.
