Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Belle
“This can’t be happening,” I whisper to myself.
I’m not sure where to look. In one direction, my boyfriend is staring bewildered at a woman who isn’t me. On my other side, my best friend is squeezing her eyes shut and inhaling the sweet scent of said boyfriend. I drop my gaze to stare at my hands instead. Those haven’t betrayed me yet... but the night is still young.
After a few seconds, a pair of dress shoes appears in my peripheral vision. I don’t want to look up, but I force myself to face the betrayal head-on.
Jason stands stiffly facing me, but I can see him glancing at Mia again from the corner of his eye. I guess he’s having a hard time taking his eyes off of her.
From behind me, the bartender raises his voice to be heard over the ambient music being piped through the bar speakers. “Can I get you a drink?”
Jason shakes his head.
Usually, he loves a drink when he gets home after a long flight itinerary. One detail from a long list of things I know about Jason because when you think you might spend the rest of your life with someone, you want to know every detail about them.
“I’m sorry I’m late.” Jason clears his throat. “I didn’t plan for a surprise snowstorm. We landed okay, but one of the flight attendants insisted on finding me a coat before I came out in this weather.”
“That was nice of her,” I say hoarsely.
How can he try to act normal at a time like this? Doesn’t he feel the world collapsing around us?
“I’m Jason. You must be Mia.” He turns to her and puts his hand out, waiting patiently for her to open her eyes.
“Hi,” Mia squeaks out.
She forces her eyes open, and there’s no mistaking the longing in her gaze as she looks up at my boyfriend. She glances at his hand but doesn’t offer hers. I look down and see her white-knuckles clutching the edges of her chair as if she’s fighting the urge to touch him.
The rational side of my brain knows that she can’t control this. That whatever internal battle she’s fighting right now isn’t her fault.
But I don’t want to be rational. I want to be mad and angry and hurt.
I want to flip her off or tie her shoelaces together. Either sounds appropriate.
Jason slowly lowers his arm back to his side.
I can’t watch this car crash of a meeting any longer. I set my phone on the bar so that I can use both hands to steady myself as I slip off the stool and stand. I’m trembling slightly as I face the two of them. No matter how many times I inhale, I can’t seem to gulp down enough air to ease the burning sensation in my lungs.
“Well, I wouldn’t want to stand in the way of a scent-match,” I croak out.
Mia turns to me, anguish in her eyes as her lips part, but she doesn’t manage to summon up any words to make this better. She’s always been the person I turn to when I’m hurting. Now she’s the one responsible.
Scent-matches aren’t exactly common among packs. In fact, a lot of packs are just people who fell in love and decided to bond, fate be damned. Some packs go a step further and hire services offering compatibility testing in hopes of finding a match.
And sometimes, you run into a person or pack whose scent drives you so wild that nothing in the world makes more sense than to sink your teeth into them, no matter the consequence.
I love fairytales so much that I write grand stories of fate and finding true love for a living. I want the fairytale for myself so much that I ache. Naturally, that means fate would give the guy I’ve been falling for a scent that just so happens to match Mia.
Fate can be a real asshole.
This is the first time I’ve witnessed a scent-match first-hand. We’re taught about all of the pack dynamics growing up, which is why I’m certain about what I’m seeing.
My parents were a scent-match. They all met in college, where my East Coast mom fell for the pack of California surfer boys who passed for brothers with their nearly identical floppy, light brown hairstyles. The four of them doted on each other from the beginning, all the way up until we lost my mom just a few years ago. My dads haven’t been the same since, forever mourning the loss of their perfect love story.
And now Jason and Mia are a match just like my parents were.
“Belle?” Jason takes a step toward me, so I take a step back.
My body is starting to go numb. I feel like I’m floating above the bar, watching this whole thing happen from a distance. Almost as if it’s happening to someone else.
If only .
“I have to get out of here,” I blurt out.
“Belle, no.” Mia hops off her stool and takes a few steps closer, leaving her standing right next to Jason. The two of them look better together than I want to admit.
“I need to think. I can’t wrap my mind around this. I need to get some fresh air and just... I need to think.” I’m rambling.
“Please stay,” Mia pleads. “We can talk this out.”
“What is there to talk about?” I laugh bitterly.
No one with any sense of morals would stand in the way of a scent-match. Every omega’s dream is to find their true scent-match, and Jason isn’t mine. What claim do I really have to him if the person he’s truly meant for is her?
I need air. I need to think.
I turn and flee toward the door.
“Belle, where are you going?” Jason calls after me.
I shake my head and keep moving toward the coat rack near the door where my coat is hanging. I fumble getting my car keys out of the left pocket. I don’t know if Jason or Mia are following me, and I don’t want to talk, so I cradle the coat to my body like a football instead of putting it on.
There’s an older beta just outside the door whom I nearly slam into when I shove the door open and step out of the bar. He puts his hands up and says, “Whoa,” before I can barrel into him.
“Sorry,” I mumble as I blink back tears.
“That’s alright.” He gives me a friendly pat on the shoulder. “Careful out there if you’re hitting the road, we seem to have gotten a surprise blizzard this evening.”
The snowstorm must be Mother Nature’s way of reminding me that reality is one cold bitch.
“Thanks for the warning.” I nod politely, then side-step him.
My silver sedan is parked conveniently near the front. I flee to the safety of the car before my tears can fall. Even in the short distance between the bar and my car, I’m covered in snowflakes. I crank the ignition and then the heat swiftly, grateful that my windshield wipers handle the soft layer of snow easily so that I don’t have to get back out to scrape the window.
The tears finally start to flow as I back out of my parking spot and carefully navigate out of the parking lot. I shouldn’t be driving while I’m sobbing, but at least no one else seems to be out on the road in this weather.
My sense of direction isn’t great, and as I drive aimlessly, I quickly find myself turned around and a little lost. The snow is still coming down in thick sheets, leaving me with very little visibility ahead. I can’t even look for a landmark to help me get my bearings.
I have no choice but to pull over and program into my GPS.
I maneuver into the parking lot of a gas station I don’t recognize. The only car seems to belong to the person working; the place is otherwise deserted. I put the car in park and reach for my phone in the center console where I always set it... and come up empty.
“What the–?”
My mouth snaps shut as the realization dawns on me. I left my phone–and my purse–sitting on the bar.
“Stupid. Stupid. Stupid!” I drop my head to the steering wheel and try to decide whether to go into the gas station and ask for directions. My throat is raw from crying, and a glance in the rearview mirror confirms I look like a crazy person. I don’t want to face anyone looking like this, not even a stranger.
This day sucks.
“Surely if I keep driving around long enough, I’ll find something that looks familiar,” I try to reason with myself. I grew up around here, so instinct has to kick in eventually... right?
I grit my teeth as I put the car back in drive, pulling out of the parking lot and back onto the road. The snowfall is only growing heavier, but I can still vaguely see the outlines of some buildings. Unfortunately, the silhouettes grow further apart the longer I drive forward, and I realize I must be heading out of town at this point.
“Get it together, Belle.”
I need to find somewhere to safely turn around. I still have yet to see anyone else on the road, but that could change at any point.
After driving for another couple of minutes, I narrowly avoid missing a turn-off from the main road. I pull onto what feels like a gravel driveway, and my headlights illuminate a sign. I can read the sign enough to tell it says no trespassing.
“Don’t worry, wasn’t planning to,” I mutter as I reverse back onto the road.
All of my tears are finally dried up, and I’m back to feeling numb as I head back in the direction I came from. The dark of night has descended fully around me. Between the lack of streetlights and the snow, I can barely tell if I’m still on the road.
My tires suddenly hit a patch of ice, and the car slides on the road. My heart rate spikes as I do my best to pump the brakes and avoid going off the road, but I can’t do enough. My whole body lurches in the seat as my tires struggle to find purchase on softer ground on the side of the road.
I desperately try to guide the car back toward the road. I’m certain I’m almost there when my car slams into something, throwing me around like a rag doll in my seat. I clench my teeth together as I hit the driver’s side door, my head bouncing off the glass.
Everything goes dark.