Hey there! This chapter is fun and lighthearted (because if you're following Tender is the Night, you know it's the exact opposite over there right now, and I can't do that to myself).

Embry

I get the guts to tell Quil I'm moving out a few days before New Year's Eve. He's more upset for himself than excited for me.

"What do you mean? When?" he exclaims, and I see his eyes slide to the door. Probably to lock the deadbolt and barricade me inside.

I chuckle. "As soon as you help me move my shit." His face falls and twists all at once, and my chuckle transforms into hysterics. "Your face, man," I gasp, clutching at my side.

"It's not funny," he groans, punching me in my shoulder. Hard.

"What's the big deal?" I say, righting myself. "Thought you'd appreciate the privacy. I know Bethany will."

Quil only sinks further into the couch. "The last thing I need with Claire is more privacy."

"Did something happen?" I ask, leaning forward to flick on the Xbox. We talk best when we're distracted doing something else. It's now common knowledge that Claire has a big fat crush on Quil.

He sighs, grabbing the other controller. "You know she tried to kiss me, right? The day that Marie and Caleb were born."

Caleb is Leah's son. As far as birth stories go, Leah's is much less exciting than Nessie's. At least Leah had her baby in the hospital.

I did know about the attempted kiss; Quil won't let me forget about it. It's all he's been talking about for two months now. "Has she not gotten better?" I ask.

He groans, flipping aimlessly through the games on the machine and selecting one that doesn't require much thought or strategy. "She's trying, I think. But damn, I didn't realize a teenage girl's hormones could be so…"

"Intense?" I offer. "Commanding? Exactly like a teenage boy's?"

"We weren't that bad," he says as we select our weapons.

"We didn't look up from dirt bikes long enough to realize that girls had boobs," I say with a chuckle. It earns me another punch to the shoulder. "You're not, like, considering—"

"Fuck no. She's fourteen," he hisses. "It's just weird for us right now. I don't know how Nessie didn't jump Jake before she did."

"Nessie had all of two years as a teenager before she was fully matured. Claire's just… how do I say this? Growing into her body—"

"Just shut up, please." He groans again, the theme of the hour. "What if she, like—what if she goes somewhere else?" I hear plastic creak beneath his hands from his tight grip.

"Like on a date," I suggest daringly, because Quil's at risk of destroying that controller.

"I'm sure there are plenty of guys out there who would be more than happy to give her what she wants. And if they do, I'm going to be charged with murder."

"Nah, Charlie likes you. Just make sure your bail's not set too high. I'm ring shopping."

"Liar," he snorts as the game gears up.

Okay, he's got me there. "I'm thinking about it," I amend.

Quil chuckles. "Liar."

"Okay, so I'm thinking about thinking about it? The necklace was big enough. And the moving in thing, she had to clear it with Paula first, too. Oh, watch out for that—good shot. I just don't want to press her too hard."

"You shoulda used your knife for a kill that close," he says, and then, "Paula's the therapist, right? What'd she have to say about shacking up?"

"More or less that it's a good step for Bethany. Which I've been trying to tell B for, like, months now."

Quil laughs again. "Well, here's to hoping that we have the patience to ride out the woes of our women."

"Woes of our women?" I start laughing so hard, the controller clatters to the floor mid-round. "Where did you come up with that shit? Have you been reading poetry?"

This time I get a kick to the shin. "Keep talking and I won't help you move." The nice guy that Quil is, he scoots the controller out of my reach with his foot. "I'm thinking about quitting my job."

"In favor of?" I ask, standing to grab the controller.

He doesn't answer right away, and when I turn back, I know the conversation has turned serious based on the way his face is stoic and smooth, even as he concentrates on the screen. His tone is determined when he speaks. "Becoming a firefighter."

I only nod as I settle back onto the couch, because it's not as out-of-left-field as Quil probably thinks. Because of the perpetual dampness of the PNW, there isn't a need for a big staff of firefighters in this area.

I know Quil's been watching job postings and fire academy schedules for a year or two now. His heart rate actually jumps every time we hear a fire engine. Sometimes he even twitches in the direction of the sounds, of pillars of smoke, before remembering it's not socially acceptable to be excited about fire.

"Quil Ateara, a fireman," I say appreciatively. I can't help but laugh at my next thought. "I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but that's not going to give Claire any more patience, Q. She's going to jump your bones."

"Oh, fuck. You're right." He pauses the game, moving to the fridge and grabbing two cans of beer. As he settles back down, he turns to me. "So when do you move?"

I crack my can and allow a few heavy chugs before setting it down. "Hoping to do it next weekend. About that, actually. Bethany's apartment is really small, and there's not enough space for all of my furniture and hers. Or parking spots for all of our vehicles."

"You want to use my house as a glorified storage unit."

I grin at him, not bothering to meet his eyes as we refocus on the game. "I'll throw you some cash for it. You know firefighters make shit money, right?"

His player dies. "Do you have to be right all the fucking time?"

Quil decides that in order for me to have a proper goodbye (although I'm only moving twenty minutes away and we'll still do patrols together at least once a week), we have to throw a last-minute New Year's Eve party at our house.

"Who's even going to come?" I ask on our fourth trip to his truck to unload alcohol. "Half the freakin' pack is either pregnant or at home with new babies."

He scoffs. "I didn't realize Emily, Nessie, and Leah counted as half the pack. Besides, Paul and Bethany can drink most of this by themselves," he says as we enter the kitchen.

"I both resent and resemble that remark," Bethany says from the counter, where she's been prepping food. She's staying with me this weekend; Sadie is in Port Angeles with Evelyn. Bethany mentioned that next time we needed a sitter, she might talk to my mom. I like that thought. "Is it too early to start testing that theory?"

I lean over, planting a kiss on her temple. "Nah. It's dark outside. Works for me."

She nods, turning her attention back to the food, but I take a minute to scan her body appreciatively. I know she packed a dress and heels, but I'd urged her that house parties are much less formal in La Push. Looking at her now, I'm starting to wonder if I don't prefer her like this.

She's wearing those jeans I can't get enough of, the ones just tight enough to drive me crazy. One of my old, faded concert t-shirts is tucked in loosely at the front. Her hair is twisted in two perfectly messy French braids. My brain is conflicted between wanting to tangle my hands in them to mess them up further, or wrapping my hands around them to get some leverage as I—

"Do you want a drink?" I blurt.

Her perfectly kissable lips twist into a sly grin. "Thank God. I thought you'd never ask."

Like with any pack function, I'm really not sure who's going to show up until they do.

Kim and Jared arrive first, followed shortly after by Paul and Rachel. Seth and Katie show up next; when Jacob shows up sans Nessie, I think I'm going to have a heart attack.

"What?" he prompts, sliding his own contribution of whiskey to the growing stash of alcohol. "She basically forced me out."

Paul claps Jake on the shoulder, snatching the whiskey just as fast as it hit the counter. "Three months of marriage and she's already sick of you? Great job."

Bethany's still at the counter, and when I catch her eye, she winks. "Where are your children tonight, Paul?"

Paul grins over at her, sloshing a generous amount of the dark liquid into a red plastic cup. "Ness has 'em. I know, hypocritical as fuck," he says with a one-shoulder shrug.

Bethany's brow furrows, and she turns to Jacob. "Are you sure she feels up to that? Can she handle three kids at once?"

Jake grins. "Nessie's fine. She's back to normal. We're back to normal."

I grimace, reaching for the whiskey to add to my own cup. "Too much information."

Naturally, as a houseful of grown-ass adults, we find ourselves in a circle on the floor, food and alcohol in the middle like the glorified co-ed slumber party I'm sure this will turn in to.

"Never have I ever?" I suggest, and the circle groans in unison.

Bethany lights up next to me. That's my girl. "I love that game!" she says, dumping a handful of chips onto a paper plate. I kiss her temple as I sneak a chip.

"Of course you do," Kim laughs from Bethany's other side. She's nestled in Jared's arms. "So does Embry."

Jacob nods from Jared's other side. "Okay, Embry, since your go-to is out of the question, why don't you start?"

Bethany leans into me. "Wait, what was your go-to?"

"I may have milked the virgin thing in the past," I mumble back, ears burning. I try to hide it with a big swig from my cup. "But obviously I prefer this alternative," I say, my eyes sliding over those damn braids.

Her sea glass eyes narrow in my direction, her gaze a mix of playful and suspicious. Can she read my mind? "I bet you do."

I clear my throat. "Never have I ever, uh…" I trail off, looking around the circle. Kim, Rachel, and Katie are tucked into the sides of their respective partners, and even a lone Jacob looks content as he waits for me to answer, twisting his wedding band around his finger. "Never have I ever been married."

The circle groans at the cop out, and Bethany giggles in my ear. "Nice, babe."

I nudge her with my elbow on my way to sneak another one of her chips. "You go."

"How dirty do we get here?" Bethany drawls as she prepares to take her turn, looking around the circle. "PG-13? R?" I can't be sure, but I think her eyes linger on Katie and Seth before landing on me. "X?"

"Please take it easy. My liver still hasn't recovered from Portland." Rachel's voice is playful, even if her words are already a little slurred. Based on Bethany's retelling of that weekend, I'd bet Rachel's telling the truth about her liver.

Bethany nods. "Okay. Um… Never have I ever gotten a tattoo."

Kim and Rachel giggle, but everyone else groans. Even lucky little Katie Clearwater.

"How many do you have, Katie?" Bethany asks as everyone else, including me, takes a sip.

Katie looks to the ceiling as she starts counting, but Seth beats her to the answer. "Six."

That math makes my brain hurt. "Wait, really?" I say. "I thought you only had the camera."

Katie blushes as she shrugs. "They're all really special to me. It's hard to stop once you start."

"Will you show us?" Bethany asks softly, correcting the chain on her necklace. She's worn it every day since Christmas. "If they're not too personal, I mean."

The flush on Katie's cheeks deepens, but she nods. "I got my first one when I was eighteen," Katie says, pulling up the hem of her shirt to reveal the bottom edge of what looks to be a bouquet of flowers near her heart. By the time her shirt is righted again, even her scalp is glowing red.

A memory flashes through my mind of a beach day a few summers ago, when I'd noticed the tattoo Katie's explaining now – an outline of a camera on the back of her neck – and asked Seth if she had any more.

At first, I think maybe Seth didn't know, because they weren't married yet and it's in a pretty daring spot. But judging by the way Seth's eyes are on me, his own ears pink, he's remembering the same moment.

I lift my cup, give it a little tilt in his direction. Right on, man.

Katie's next tattoo is an outline of a wolf on her hip, one that Rachel and Kim can't stop gushing over.

Katie slips off her sock. "This is probably my most important one." She runs her finger over a small block of text on the inside of her foot. It's too small to read from here. She doesn't offer what it says, and nobody asks.

Seth draws her foot into his lap, correcting her sock and running his thumb over the tattoo through the fabric. It's such a tender gesture, I have to look away.

"And I got this that same day," Katie continues, turning her arm over to another small block of text above her elbow. "Leah has a matching one. Mine says 'no matter what' and hers says 'no matter where'. They were her farewell present to me before she moved to Seattle."

Jacob makes an appreciative noise. "I didn't know that."

"And last but not least," Katie says, ignoring Jacob as she flips her other arm over, "my sisters were jealous, so we got these together the next time I went home." She shows us her final tattoo, three hearts above her other elbow, the middle one filled in while the other two remain hollow.

"A work of art," Seth says, placing a sloppy kiss in her hair. Katie leans into it, and a chorus of complaints fill the air. When Katie and Seth drink, they tend to get carried away in each other. More so than any other wolf pair.

Kim clears her throat to draw attention back to the game at hand. "Never have I ever had a one-night stand," she says in a voice that's much too casual to actually be casual.

Bethany flips her off as she starts to lift her cup. Paul leans across the circle to clink his glass with Bethany's. "Cheers, chica," he says with a little too much joy, choosing to look anywhere but at my glower.

A freckled hand comes to rest on my thigh, and it brings me back to earth.

Although I mostly know how the others will answer (aside from Katie's secret tattoo bombshell), playing with Bethany is a dangerous game. I think I'm going to find out something off-putting, but the more she answers, the more she drinks, the more I'm desperate to know about her life before me.

For example: When did she go skinny dipping? Whose window did she sneak into (and subsequently out of)? Does she want to do it in a kitchen, even though she never has before?

"Never have I ever…" Katie says after a few more trips around the circle. "Shotgunned a beer?"

Oops. Bad move, Katie.

Paul's already on his feet. "You've been a part of this family for, what, two and a half years now? We're doing this."

Bethany stands too, and wobbles. I reach up to steady her with a hand on her ass, and she flashes me a devilish wink. She's had plenty to drink tonight, and she's probably pretty close to drunk, if not already there. She flicks one of her braids over her shoulder without breaking eye contact.

Mind reader, definitely.

"But I hate beer, Paul," Katie whines, looking back to Seth as Paul totes her to the kitchen.

"I'll do it with you, Katie. I'll teach you," Bethany calls after them, following them to grab her own can of beer.

The rest of us follow them outside, watching as our breaths fog in the cold winter air. Steam rises off everyone, but the wolves look like whistling tea kettles.

"Fuck, it's cold," Kim hisses. Jared is quick to pull her back against his chest.

Quil whines. "I'm cold, too," he jokes, holding out his arms for Jacob. Jacob shoves him away with a throaty chuckle.

Paul uses his keys to poke holes in the side of their cans, and a few drops dribble onto the gravel.

Bethany shows Katie how to hold her can, sloshing a little beer onto the rocks as she twists it into position. "You're going to put your mouth on it," Bethany says, pointing to the hole.

"That's what she said," Jared chuckles. Kim smacks his arm lightly, but she's laughing, too.

To her credit, Bethany doesn't roll her eyes. "And when you're ready, you're going to pop the top. It's going to basically gush into your mouth."

"That's what she said," Quil says this time, and Jared offers him a high-five.

"And you just chug," Bethany says to Katie. "Try not to stop until you're done. It will be over faster that way."

Katie nods slowly, looking to Seth for reassurance. Seth's staring back with adoration and amusement, as always. I have to say, I'm looking forward to seeing Bethany chug a beer, too.

"Twenty bucks on Bethany," I say with a grin.

"Bet," Paul says, turning to Rachel. But Rachel is silent, a small smile playing on her lips. "Babe, really?"

Rachel shrugs, crossing her arms in the cold and snuggling into Jacob's side for warmth. "We have two college tuitions to pay for, Paul. I'm not gambling something that's a sure loss."

Paul groans, and Quil counts off.

Poor, poor Katie. She really tries. I think.

But the attention is off her when Bethany drops her empty can to the gravel a full three seconds before Paul. She's wiping her mouth on the back of her hand as Paul crunches his can and starts to curse.

"Haven't you learned by now, Paul?" Bethany says, giving him a sloppy wink as she wraps her arms around my waist. "Ladies should always finish first. And yes, that is what she said."

When I wake the next morning, Bethany's side of the best is still warm, but empty, nonetheless. In a few weeks, she'll be there every time I open my eyes.

I find her in the kitchen, and I have to step over Jared and Quil sprawled on the floor to reach her. Quil gave his bed to Rachel and Kim, and Seth and Katie are snuggled on the couch. Paul's snoring in the busted-up armchair in the corner. Jacob must have snuck home at some point.

Bethany's wearing the button down I had on yesterday, and it hits her mid-thigh. Her hair is spilling out of the braids in multiple places (my hands hadn't helped last night), and she's rubbing sleep from her eyes. She's been awake long enough that the coffee she's brewed is nearly finished.

"Hey, where's my mug?" she asks, wrapping her slender arms around my waist. "Morning."

I pull her closer into my chest. "Dishwasher, maybe," I say. "Good morning. I like you in this shirt."

She giggles, placing a kiss against my sternum. "I like me in this shirt, too," she says with a final squeeze before she turns to the dishwasher and retrieves the sought-after mug.

It's a really old, faded one, with a chip on the rim. I think Quil got it for Christmas like five years ago from Claire's parents. It's customized with his name. Bethany uses it just to piss him off.

She turns back to me. "Do you think you could bring this with your stuff? It'd drive him crazy."

I'm going to marry this woman. My heart constricts with the revelation. That her moving in is the first step to forever, a lifetime of little moments just like this, where her beauty makes my knees go weak and her grit makes me stand up straighter by association.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Bethany asks as she steals the pot from the warmer, filling her mug to the brim.

I lean forward, capturing her lips in mine instead of answering. She quips briefly before returning the gesture, leaning into my arms. "Best new year's kiss ever," I mumble into her mouth.

She laughs against my lips. "Did we actually make it to midnight? I don't really remember much after the shotgunning part."

"Maybe if you weren't so dirty, you wouldn't have had a fifth just playing the game." I don't bother pulling back to speak, and she doesn't either. "We made it past midnight. And then we made it to bed. And I might have made you—it goes a little fuzzy for me, too."

"New Year's resolution, Embry Call?" she says into my mouth, color blossoming across the skin exposed by my shirt.

My answer nearly disappears beyond her lips. "More kissing you. Loving you. Holding you. Making you laugh. Making you…" someone stirs in the living room, and I redirect. "Do other things. Just more you. More everything with you."

Her grin presses to my lips, and she just keeps kissing me. "What about you?" I finally prompt, pulling back so I don't yawn in her face.

She picks up her mug and takes a sip before she answers, doing that flamingo-leg thing I love so much. "Wanna run a marathon with me?" Without losing her balance, she pulls the cabinet to her left open, garnishing a mug and filling it for me.

"Today?"

Bethany gnaws on her bottom lip, but her smile still pokes through. It's lazy, with sleep still clouding her features. "Sometimes running cures my hangovers. Let's see how I feel after this kicks in," she says, lifting the mug between both hands. "But you're in? You really wanna run twenty-six miles with me?"

"I'd jump off a bridge with you, honey." I pause to take a sip from my own mug. "Or a cliff."

Her eyes go wide, but a mischievous sparkle takes them over. "Ooh, let's do that, too. More La Push rites of passage."

It's not until breakfast is half over, when she's loading more of her famous hangover-curing greasy potatoes onto Quil's plate in a peace offering, that I realize it.

Bethany didn't pull away first.

I move into Bethany's apartment the Friday after New Year's.

Most of my furniture won't fit, but I bring my nightstand (because Bethany only has one) and the TV in my bedroom (because it's bigger than hers), and my dresser (because Bethany's was already bursting at the seams trying to make enough space for me to have a drawer).

It takes one measly trip from La Push to Forks. Quil had followed behind me in his truck and my clothes were packed in garbage bags in the backseat of my car.

Each apartment only gets two parking spaces, so I had to make the choice between bringing my bike and my car.

Practically, it makes sense for me to keep the car here. Since I'm going to be living with Sadie, there's a possibility I'll have to take her to school when Bethany's car isn't here. Or if Bethany asks me to get groceries while she's at work. Or a hundred other things that being a live-in boyfriend and pseudo-dad could entail.

Realistically, I already miss my bike.

But it's hard to focus on what's lost for too long, because I look up from where I'm rearranging the bedroom furniture, trying to make room for the new additions. Bethany's there, on the other side of it, helping direct me and pointing with a black-polished nail.

"What?" she asks, crossing her arms. "You don't think it will fit there?"

I shake my head, taking a step closer to her. "Not that."

Her eyes go wide as I continue closing the gap. "Embry Call, I swear, if you—"

And then I grab her hips and swing her onto the bed, and her words are swallowed by her laughs as I dig my fingers into the ticklish spot on her ribcage.

She squeals like Sadie when I tickle her. "Embry—oh, God please—"

"What was that? Keep going?" I say, holding down her flailing legs while I continue to torture her. "Someone is screaming in my ear."

Bethany's eyes flash vivid green, and I see her decide something. She reaches down and grabs my crotch, and my hands fall limp to the mattress.

But then she's off, on her feet and running out to the living room.

My girl fights dirty. Why am I not surprised?

When I finally make it to the living room, she's braced behind the couch, prepared to tease me around it one way or the other.

I manage to make it around the couch to her, but she's already in the kitchen. I reach for her again, and she backs up against the counter, cornered.

"This is how I die," she says as my hands come to rest on her hips. "Rest in peace, Bethany Grace Ca—"

We both freeze. Did she just—

"Did you just—"

"Slipped out," she says quickly, hands coming up to cover her face. "I didn't mean to—I just had a dream last night and it was on my mind today and—ugh."

My mind is reeling, and my thoughts come out unfiltered, as they often do in Bethany's company. "You had a dream we were married?"

Her shoulders lift to her ears, and they stay there for five of her elevated heart beats. "Paula has me writing stuff down like crazy. All my irrational thoughts and fears and dreams. I was doing it before bed, and I guess subconsciously I just…"

She peeks at me through her fingers. "I feel bad for even telling you. I'm still not ready for that yet," she says.

"Don't do that." With a shaky hand, I pry her fingers away from her face. Her cheeks are slightly pink, and it highlights her maze of freckles.

"Do what?" she asks softly.

"Feel bad for telling me what's going on inside your head," I reply. "Good or bad, I want to know. Ready or not, I want to be a part of it. All the mess, remember?"

Bethany studies my face with nearly unbearable scrutiny, but I allow her. Whatever she needs, she'll get. Finally, her features soften. "Okay. Yeah."

"Hey," I say, grabbing her hips again and popping her up to the counter. "I'm proud of you."

Her eyes brighten, and the corner of her mouth tugs upward. She parts her knees and pulls me in between them. "Why?"

I run a thumb across that little tug, and it spreads into a full-blown smile at my touch. My stomach does a little flip at the fact that I'm the one who makes her light up this way.

"You're being honest with yourself and with me about what you're feeling. You're taking the steps you need to take. Not for Sadie or your mom or me or anybody else. Just for you. I think that's really brave, Bethany, and I'm just proud of you."

Her tide pool eyes sparkle. Her mouth opens and closes a few times under my thumb, but she just nods and leans into the embrace.

I'm not a therapist, but I'd mark her progress lately as pretty fucking incredible.