Page 7 of O Goalie Night
I thank her again and without removing my arm from Beth, pick up her suitcase in my free hand and guide her back to the car.
She says nothing as I help her into the passenger side, just continues to stare ahead like a lost soul. After I throw the suitcase in the back, I take my phone from my pocket and call Ben. I wait outside while it rings, cursing when it goes to voicemail.
“Ben, I need you to call me,” I bite out. Then, realisingthat might freak him out, I add, “Beth is fine, but I need you to call me right away.”
I climb into the driver's seat and find that Beth is in the exact same pose I left her in; hands in lap, back straight, eyes staring blankly ahead. I slowly reach over and rest my hand on hers. They’re freezing. I start the car, turning up the heater as well as the heated seat for good measure.
Seeing her so upset has me feeling helpless. Powerless.
What am I going to do with her? She’s alone in a new city and I can’t track down Ben.
“Are you okay?” I ask, knowing she’s not. Given the circumstances, how could she be? She’s so quiet. Too quiet. In the short time I’ve known her, I’ve gotten used to her incessant talking. I want nothing more than to go back to when she was excitedly spouting fun facts about water mammals.
She blinks in surprise, almost like she’d forgotten I was there. “I…yes. It’s just…It was the school that sent me the ad, along with some others. I thought…”
“Hey.” I lean forward until she meets my eye. “None of this is your fault. These assholes are very good at looking legit.”
She closes her eyes. “I feel like such an–”
“Do not finish that sentence, Beth. Do you hear me? You didn’t deserve this.” No one does of course, but especially not her.
She opens her eyes and gives me a watery smile before nodding. “Okay,” she sniffs. “I should call my brother.”
“I just tried him. He’s not answering his phone.”
“Oh…alright.” She swallows. That look of panic flashes in her amber eyes again and I can practically hear the wheels turning in her head. “You’ve already done so much for me, Foster, but do you think you could drop me off at a hotel?”
“No.” I answer, firmly. Her shoulders sink and I rush to explain. “Because you’re staying with me tonight.”
I didn’t realise I was going to say it until the words came out of my mouth, but it’s the only thing I can think of that makes any kind of sense. She can crash in one of my guest rooms for the night and figure out what comes next tomorrow. I’m sure Ben will want her to stay with him until they can find her another apartment. Preferably one that actually exists.
She shakes her head vehemently. “I’ve already inconvenienced you enough. I can’t ask you to put me up.”
“You’re not an inconvenience at all,” I insist. “And you’re not asking, I am. Beth, please do me a solid and stay at my place tonight so your brother doesn’t murder me for leaving you at a seedy hotel.”
A ghost of a smile touches her full lips. “I didn’t ask you to take me to a seedy one.”
I shrug. “Those are the only ones I know.”
Her giggle warms the interior of the car far better than the heater ever could. I release the breath I’m holding, relieved that she doesn’t look so devastated anymore. My heart couldn’t take another second of this girl looking so sad.
“In that case, I’d be very grateful to spend the night at your house.” She pauses. “Provided it’s not seedy.”
“Well,” I grin as I put the car in reverse. “Notasseedy, anyway.”
CHAPTER 4
BETH
Iwant to hibernate. Burrow into a hole in the ground far from the outside world and avoid the consequences of my actions.
No. This is not my fault, I remind myself. I am the victim.
Finding a place to live had been overwhelming to say the least. Every place I looked at required a first month’s rent and a damage deposit up front. Early in my search, I’d reached out to several places only to be told that the apartment had already been rented.
And then I found what seemed like the perfect rental. Close to the school and in a nice neighbourhood. The rent was expensive but not unreasonable. After inquiring about it, I received a response from Colleen, or whatever her real name is, asking for a phone interview. She peppered me with questions about my lifestyle. Did I smoke? How loud do I listen to my music? Do I have any pets? We talked for more than twenty minutes and at the end she told me the room was mine.
I feel physically ill. She played me like a fiddle and I had no idea it was happening.
