Chapter 6
BEA
PRESENT DAY
“Hold it—no, a little higher. Wait, is it centered?” Glancing over my shoulder, I caught Lucy cocking her head from side to side as she guided me.
“It’s getting heavy,” I groaned as the frame started to slip from my grasp.
Lucy huffed a laugh, stepping in and catching the bottom edge before it fell. The wood tapped softly against my palm—light but unsteady, like it hadn’t decided yet if it belonged here.
Lo scurried over, setting her wineglass down on my new coffee table before analyzing the artwork. “Up,” she instructed.
We lifted the frame.
“Now breathe,” she added, a lilt in her voice.
I didn’t realize I hadn’t been. I exhaled slowly as she stepped back, head tilting while she studied the wall like it was a gallery and not a patch of off-white drywall in a starter apartment that still smelled faintly of cardboard and new paint.
“There.” With one swift motion, Lucy got the frame hoisted into the center of the living room wall and pressed the adhesive hangers into place.
Lo dropped back onto her heels, hands braced on her thighs as she looked up at the growing cluster of frames. “Okay,” she said after a second. “I’ll admit it. That actually looks… really good.”
Stepping back, we admired our minimal decorating efforts.
It felt amazing to be here—standing in the middle of my first grown-up apartment. I had never lived alone before, but something about this modest starter place in the middle of a bustling, new-to-me city made me feel like I was on the brink of something big.
Yes, I hadn’t found a job yet.
Yes, I was floundering most days.
But right now? Here—with Lucy, Lo, and Ezra helping me turn this drab space into a home—something felt right. Like my life was about to click into place.
“Are you ladies ready for more?” Ezra’s voice carried in ahead of him as he stepped into the living room from the kitchen, careful but unbothered, like he’d already accepted that navigating around half-unpacked boxes and scattered frames was just part of the process today.
His arms were full—frames stacked carefully against his chest, edges of polished wood and glass catching the light as he shifted his grip.
“My entire life,” I murmured, a soft laugh slipping out as I crossed toward him to take a few from the top of the pile.
Lo had insisted on it. Every moment documented. Every memory preserved. Skiing in the Alps. Sunbathing on Elafonissi’s pink sand. Christmas mornings. Graduations. Small, ordinary afternoons that had somehow mattered enough to keep.
“For posterity,” she’d said as she unpacked the boxes earlier, completely unapologetic. “And as a reminder to keep following your dreams.”
Ezra seemed smiled at that now—quiet, familiar, like he’d heard it a hundred times and still let it land the same way. “Your highlight reel is heavier than it looks,” he added, shifting the remaining frames slightly before offering them out.
I took another from him, careful with the corners. “You carried them in.”
“I have a reputation to maintain,” he returned easily, glancing toward Lucy.
She was already kneeling on the rug, sorting frames into loose piles that didn’t seem to follow any real system beyond what made sense to her in the moment.
“That reputation being?” she asked without looking up.
“Capable. Reliable. Strong under pressure,” he listed, ticking each off like it was fact.
Lucy snorted. “You forgot dramatic.”
Ezra’s mouth curved, just slightly. “That one’s genetic.”
I caught the look they shared—quick, familiar, effortless.
Easy.
Something in my chest softened at it before I could stop it.
The way the father-daughter duo interacted made me have the slightest twinge of homesickness for my own dad. Before snapping back into the conversation, I made a mental note to call my old man as soon as my guests left.
Lucy shifted onto her heels, finally glancing up at me. “Unfortunately for him,” she added, gesturing vaguely in Ezra’s direction, “I’m his only child, so I get to keep him humble.”
“That’s one way to phrase it,” Ezra said dryly.
“He means I’m a delight,” Lucy clarified, flashing me a grin before turning back to the frames.
We fell into a rhythm after that.
Passing frames. Shifting positions. Stepping back, then forward again. Trying to create something that felt intentional without overthinking it.
Ordered-disorder. It worked.
At some point, a familiar weight pressed lightly against my ankle. I stilled. Then exhaled a sigh of relief.
“Hi, sweet boy,” I murmured, crouching slightly as I reached down, fingers finding the soft, dense curls of his coat.
Bento blinked up at me, slow and deliberate, like he was taking inventory before deciding I still passed inspection. A low, steady purr started up beneath my palm—quiet, but present. Approval. Temporary, but real.
Lucy noticed immediately. “Oh my god,” she whispered, dropping her voice like she might scare him off. “He’s out. I was about think he wasn’t real.”
“Don’t make a big deal out of it,” I warned gently, already knowing it wouldn’t matter.
She crouched anyway, carefully extending her hand just enough to hover near his head. “Hi,” she coaxed softly. “I come in peace.”
Bento turned his head, glaring at her. The wheels were churning as he blinked slowly. Then—like a switch flipped—he darted backward and disappeared under the new sofa in one smooth, affronted motion.
Lucy froze, hand still midair. “…did I just get rejected?”
A laugh slipped out of me before I could stop it. “That was actually better than usual.”
“Better?” she echoed, blinking.
“He made eye contact first,” I offered with a shrug.
“That’s… encouraging?”
“Extremely.”
From the kitchen, Lo hummed into her wineglass. “He’s selective.”
“He’s ruthless,” Lucy snorted, glancing toward Bento’s couch sanctuary.
I straightened, brushing my hands lightly against my jeans. “He doesn’t really trust anyone,” I explained. “He barely tolerated Micah, and she fed him half the time for years.”
“Unbelievable,” Lucy muttered. “I have great energy.”
Ezra passed behind her, setting the last of the frames down on the table before resting a hand briefly on her shoulder—absent, grounding. “He’ll come around,” he assured calmly. “He just needs to decide it was his idea.”
We finally finished hanging the pictures, and just like that—there was nothing left to do.
My grown-up apartment had taken shape around us.
The couch sat beneath the windows, angled slightly because the wall wasn’t as straight as it pretended to be.
Late afternoon light spilled in across the cushions, catching on the edges of the frames we’d just hung.
The rug lay flat—mostly—after spending the morning trying to curl itself back into its packaging.
My kitchen cabinets were half full, half waiting.
The small table by the window held two mugs, a stack of mail, and the folder I’d already checked three times.
Tomorrow’s folder.
I forced my gaze away from it.
“Okay,” Lucy announced from the floor near the coffee table, pushing herself up onto her feet. “I’m calling it. We’ve reached peak productivity.”
“We have not,” I returned automatically from beside the couch, straightening one of the throw pillows that didn’t actually need it.
“We absolutely have.” She gestured broadly around the apartment. “The pictures are hung. The couch exists. There are beverages present.” She lifted her water bottle like evidence. “This is success.”
Lo, leaning against the kitchen counter with her wineglass balanced between her fingers, took a slow sip and smiled into the rim. “I agree with Lucy. This feels complete enough to celebrate.”
I drew in a breath and let it out slowly, taking it all in.
They weren’t wrong.
For now, our work here was done.
And that made something in my chest tighten.
Because now there was no distraction left.
Because now I was here. In Northbend.
Because tomorrow mattered.
“Champs?” Lo chimed, already reaching for a bottle from the counter with one hand and holding up an empty flute with the other.
A smile tugged at my mouth before I could stop it. “How can I say no to you with an offer like that?”
“Decis?o fantástica!” Lo popped the bottle with a sharp, celebratory crack, laughing as effervescent bubbles spilled over her fingers and onto the counter.
“Oh, I think I know that one,” Lucy added, stepping closer and handing her a glass. “Fantastic decision?”
I nodded, accepting the flute Lo passed me and taking a slow, steady sip.
Ezra huffed softly from the dining table, where he’d settled into one of the chairs that looked slightly too small for him. The wood creaked under his weight as he leaned back, a beer bottle resting loosely in his hand.
“Ready for tomorrow?” His gaze lifted to mine over the rim.
I crossed toward the couch, Bento weaving around my ankles like he’d been waiting for the exact moment I slowed down. He hopped up onto the cushion ahead of me, turned in a tight circle, then glanced back like he expected me to follow instructions.
I sank down beside him, scooping him into my arms.
“Sure,” I managed, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach all the way through.
Ezra’s eyes didn’t move from me.
Lo pushed off the counter immediately, crossing the space in a few quick steps. “That is not convincing at all.”
I pressed my lips together, gaze drifting past her toward the windows.
The light here was different.
Chicago had been sharp—wind cutting between buildings, noise constant, everything moving faster than you could catch up to if you weren’t already running. It had demanded something from me every second I was there.
Northbend felt quieter.
Not slower.
Just… less aggressive about it.
Like I had space to breathe without proving I deserved the air first.
“I’m just being realistic,” I offered after a moment, my voice softer now.
Lucy leaned forward from the edge of the coffee table, elbows resting on her knees, her attention fully locked on me. “Realistic or defensive?”
“Prepared.”
“For what?” She tipped her glass back, then lowered it again, watching me over the rim.
“For it not working out.”
The words came out before I could smooth them. Before I could make them easier to hear.
Silence settled—not heavy, just there.
Lo stopped directly in front of me, steady and unflinching. “This is going to work out.”
A small breath slipped from me. “You don’t know that.”
“I do.”
“That’s not how interviews work.”
“It is when you’re this good.”
I shook my head, tightening my hold on Bento as he shifted against me, pressing closer like he could feel it. “That hasn’t exactly been my experience so far.”
Lo’s expression didn’t soften into pity. It grounded instead.
“That’s because you’ve been waiting for someone to recognize you without you being in the right room.”
I met her eyes. “And tomorrow I’m in the right room?”
“Yes.”
The certainty in her voice settled somewhere dangerous.
A part of me wanted to believe her.
Lucy stretched her legs out across the rug, leaning back on her hands. “For what it’s worth, if they don’t hire you, they’re idiots.”
A laugh slipped out of me, lighter this time. “Strong take.”
“Correct take.”
My gaze drifted—inevitably—back to the table.
To the folder.
My stomach tightened.
“I’m going to start looking for part-time work,” I blurted, keeping my tone even. “Just in case.”
Lo’s reaction was immediate. “No.”
“It’s not a bad idea.”
“It’s a terrible idea.”
“It’s practical, pays rent and keeps me in the States.”
“It wastes your time.”
I lifted my eyes to hers. “Lo.”
She didn’t back down. “You are not taking some filler job because you don’t trust the timing of something you’ve already earned.”
“I haven’t earned it yet.”
“Semantics.” She stepped closer, voice steady and unwavering. “You have done everything right. You have put yourself exactly where you need to be. The rest is just someone else catching up.”
I leaned back into the couch, exhaling slowly, Bento’s purr building into a steady vibration against my chest.
Lucy glanced toward the dining table. “I don’t know anything about PR politics,” she added, “but I do know my dad wouldn’t bring someone in for an interview unless it mattered.”
That pulled my attention up.
Ezra stood near the entryway now, one hand resting against the doorframe, like he’d moved there without interrupting the flow of the room.
Present.
Quiet.
Watching.
“Interviews always matter,” I countered.
“They do.” His voice carried evenly across the space. “But not all of them are created equal.”
I held his gaze.
There was no pressure in it. No expectation.
Just something deliberate.
“You know what you’re doing,” he continued.
I nodded once. “I do.”
“Then go in and do that.” His mouth tipped slightly at the corner. “You don’t need to be anything else.”
Something in my chest shifted.
Small.
But solid.
Ezra pulled the door open, stepping back to give them space.
Lo paused in front of me, pressing a kiss to my temple, her voice low enough that it stayed between us. “You’re ready.”
“I hope so.”
Her smile didn’t waver. “I know so.”
Lucy hovered near the doorway, already slipping her shoes back on. “Text me after you crush it tomorrow.”
“I’m sure I’ll need moral support,” I teased, pulling her into a quick hug.
“You’ll get a full debrief,” she promised, squeezing me once before stepping out.
The door closed behind them.
And just like that—
the apartment went quiet.
Not empty.
Just still.
I stood there for a moment, not moving, letting it settle.
Bento circled once at my feet, then jumped back onto the couch, turning twice before looking at me like I was late to something important.
A quiet breath slipped out of me. “I’m coming.”
I crossed the room and sank down beside him, the cushions dipping slightly beneath us. He climbed into my lap immediately, pressing close with that same unwavering certainty he’d had since the moment he chose me.
My hand moved over his back automatically.
Steady.
Familiar.
Grounding.
Tomorrow I’d walk into that room. I’d sit across from Char. I’d answer every question. I’d hold my ground. I’d be exactly what I trained myself to be.
And whatever happened after that—at least it would be real.
I leaned back against the couch, staring up at the ceiling as Bento’s purr settled into a low, steady rhythm against my chest.
Northbend didn’t feel temporary.
It felt like something just beginning.