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Devastated.
Hopeful.
In despair.
I don’t know what I’m feeling. I’m mostly reeling with shock. I can’t believe they’re making me an offer. I can’t believe I’ll have to refuse.
Do I? Do I have to refuse?
Just tell them. Tell them, Brin. The truth, all of it. What’s the worst that can happen? That they’ll reject you? You’re about to say no anyway.
Yeah, but their rejection will hurt like rusty nails.
So what? What if your rejection of them has hurt them, too? You just walked out of there, walked away without another thought about their feelings. They are good guys. More than good; they are amazing.
Where will I ever find anyone like them?
Never. I’ll never feel this way again. I’m walking away from a dream come true.
Why? Why am I doing this? I slow down. What am I doing? They are the best thing that has ever happened to me. They are the best guys ever. They protect me. Treat me nicely. Want me.
And I want them, too. Their scents are heaven, their personalities are even better, their pack is a sanctuary.
Together with Sawyer.
All four hunks just for me. Kind, considerate, wonderful. Why did I run? Why do I keep on running? Am I such a coward?
I linger at the entrance of the hospital. I came by earlier, before I headed to the Alpha Bet where I was supposed to start my new job… only to be confronted with that offer, with four angels and my own demons.
Like something out of the Divine Comedy.
It sure feels like a dramedy right now. I’m not sure if to laugh or cry some more. Wiping my palms over my still-wet cheeks, I draw a shaky breath. No way am I entering like this. First, I have to calm down.
Or you could simply turn back around and return to the bar, face both your demons and your four angels, and tell them how you feel about them. Tell them where you’re coming from, what’s going on, and the whole deal.
Let them decide what they want to do.
After all, you know your heart is set on them. Stop making their decisions for them.
You don’t have to keep running forever, Brin.
Is it possible? Would they take this pole-dancing, indebted, rootless delta girl into that tightly-knit pack of theirs?
Caught in indecision, in what feels like a pivotal moment of my life, I clutch the strap of my purse on my shoulder and will myself to take a step.
Backward or forward? Remain in this state of fear and misery, or take the chance, even while knowing that confessing everything might destroy that chance anyway?
I have to go back to them. Have to take the shot.
So I turn my back to the hospital and… stop.
Am I hallucinating?
My four guys are there. The four angels. They’re standing right there, staring at me, their eyes dark with—anger? Fear? Concern? I can’t tell.
They don’t give me time to read them better. Instead, they start toward me, a wall of muscle and brawn. Interesting that I’m not afraid.
I’m not afraid of them, I realize. Never were. The only person I’m afraid of is myself, my shortcomings, my insignificance.
