44. Calder
Calder
"Hey, man! Great turnout!"
One of our contractors, Beckett, saunters over smiling before leaning in for a quick hug and thump on the back.
Moving to stand next to him, my gaze traces over the festivities, finally seeing everything fully set up and in action.
The huge movie projector plays an old, feel-good comedy, with a small group settled into the blanket-clad hay bales.
The band members are moving around on stage, setting up for their later performances.
We even have a couple of new stands and a new food truck lining the East side of the field, where vendors are set up selling anything from jewelry to books to cupcakes.
My eyes trace over the scene before me, coming back to the ridiculous bonfire ablaze against the darkening sky, its orange glow somehow touching damn near everything in the open field.
I nearly snort, shaking my head. I don't know exactly which of my packmates was the mind behind the sheer volume of wood and fuel that made it this monstrous, but I have a pretty damn good guess.
I slip my hand into my pocket, fingers tracing over the velvety texture, nerves urging me to feel the box for the hundredth time tonight. Forcing my chest to expand, the tension eases slightly.
Tonight is a big night, for many reasons.
Everyone who passes by me tonight has offered a wave and a smile.
Some have even shouted their praises and thanks.
Something about seeing everyone I care about having a great time together, interacting, and enjoying themselves fills a part of me to completion.
It feels damn good knowing I can have a hand in their well-earned happiness.
At least for a night. Realizing I never voiced my appreciation, I respond, "Thanks, Beck.
I appreciate you helping out so much, too.
You certainly didn't have to. Means a lot. "
Shrugging, he dips his hands into his pockets. "Eh. I had fun with it." His own gaze moves around the small crowds and groups of people. Eyes narrowing, it's as if he's searching for something and not just merely people watching or taking in the sight before us.
Clearing my throat, I cross my arms, trying to hide my smile. "You know, uh, I think Alina and your sister are over by the little mobile book truck that's set up next to the dessert stand."
His head whips over to me so fast he damn-near breaks his neck. Raising a brow, I make a point to slowly turn his way. "Damn… That obvious, huh?" he chuckles, finally losing the scowl.
"Little bit. But you're not really trying to hide it."
He pauses before a shit-eating grin takes over his face, eyes sparkling.
"No. I guess I'm not." He adjusts his stance, arms crossing, mirroring my own.
"I've been gone a long time, though…" He says it quietly, almost more to himself than to me, so I stay silent.
"You, uh, know much about her?" He clears his throat, swaying slightly, and I realize, for the first time, I'm seeing easy-going, confident Beckett… shy.
"You know, I really don't." He hums, and I can almost sense his disappointment.
"But I will say…Opaline moved here with us to start her job after we met, staying in the staff lodge.
She didn't know a single person here and was already going through more than anyone could possibly know.
" I pause, sucking in a breath. "And Alina, your sister, Charlie, and Fawn took to my omega like it was nothing to welcome her into their established friendship, into their circle.
I'd say that's a pretty good indicator of her character. "
"I'm happy to hear that. For a lot of reasons." He nods. "She used to be real sweet growing up. I'm glad; it sounds like maybe she didn't lose that part of herself."
I feel ashamed, not knowing more about Opaline's close friends. "You grew up together?"
"Oh yeah…" He chuckles, maybe lost in memory. "Lotts and Alina were close throughout our teen years, too. I kind of just snuck around and pissed 'em off so I could have an excuse to be closer to my sister's pretty friend."
A near-indecent huff comes from me as I take in the sweet image he's painted for me.
"I can imagine how well that went over." Reaching over, I grip his shoulder, watching some of the invisible tension seep out of him at the contact.
He's not my pack, but I now consider him to be a friend, and I'm happy to offer a bit of grounding energy.
"You'll see her tonight. She'll be around, man. "
With a smile, he nods, clasping my hand briefly. "Yeah, man. Go enjoy your hard work! Find that omega of yours, ya lucky bastard!"
His voice and laughter trail behind me as I make my way back into the action of the festival in search of one thing. The weight of the object in my pocket sits heavily, my mind never fully straying from it and the evening we have planned.
Lucky bastard is right.