Chapter 49
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
MILO
The first thing that hit me when we pulled onto Mrs. Alvarez’s street was the realization that I’d somehow become more nervous introducing Calder to Mrs. Alvarez than I’d been facing him alone in the woods.
But these two parts of my life had existed separately for weeks now—Mrs. Alvarez with her warm kitchen and sharp eyes and endless attempts at fattening me up, Calder with his forests and impossible stillness and the quiet way he’d rearranged my entire life without meaning to.
In about thirty seconds, those worlds were going to collide.
The SUV rolled to a stop at the curb. Warm, late-afternoon light spilled gold across the small house and the familiar patch of flowers beside the porch. Wind chimes moved softly somewhere near the front window.
Beside me, Calder looked toward the house and the flowers lining the porch.
“You’re staring at those plants like they’re dangerous,” I said.
“Some plants are.”
“These are just flowers, babe.”
Calder looked unconvinced, and I laughed under my breath as I killed the engine. Even after everything, there were still moments where the sheer impossibility of him caught me off guard.
Calder sat beside me still looking unreal in human form, like something old and mythic had wandered accidentally into the modern world and decided to stay—for me.
And somehow, I was willingly inviting him into Mrs. Alvarez’s house.
I smiled despite myself, then reached over and caught his hand before either of us moved toward the doors.
For the first time since leaving the cabin, Calder looked uncertain, unfamiliar with this kind of encounter. Human homes, a human family, being brought into someone’s life instead of hidden from it.
My thumb brushed across his knuckles. “She’s going to love you,” I softly encouraged.
Calder held my gaze for a second before asking, with complete seriousness, “What if she does not?”
Something about hearing Calder ask that so seriously twisted unexpectedly inside me.
And suddenly, he looked less like the creature people built legends around and more like someone hoping very quietly not to be rejected.
I leaned over before I could think too hard about it and kissed him, slow and tender. When I pulled back, his eyes stayed fixed on mine. “She already loves you. She just doesn’t know it yet.”
Something softened in his expression then. Small enough most people probably would’ve missed it.
I didn’t.
Calder gave the sleeves of the borrowed flannel one last, hopeful tug. They still stopped well above his wrists, and the faded jeans surrendered several inches before reaching his ankles.
The front door opened. “Milo?” Mrs. Alvarez leaned out onto the porch. “Mijo—my boy—if you’re out there making that poor man sit in the car, I swear—”
“I’m coming,” I called back.
I snorted and climbed out of the SUV while Calder followed beside me a second later.
Mrs. Alvarez looked him over once as we reached the porch.
She kissed my cheek before patting my face once. “Estoy muy feliz de verte.” I’m happy to see you.
I wrapped my arms around her, breathing in the familiar scent of coconut and almonds from the lotion she’d used for as long as I could remember.
“Good to see you too, Mrs. Alvarez.”
Then she stepped back and looked at Calder. “And you are?”
“Calder.”
Mrs. Alvarez nodded once. “Bueno. Come inside before the food burns.”
Calder stayed a step behind me while Mrs. Alvarez guided us into the kitchen.
The old radio near the sink played softly beneath the sound of something simmering on the stove. She pointed toward the table. “You can sit.”
Calder sat carefully in the chair beside mine. Even seated, he seemed too large for the kitchen, all long limbs and broad shoulders tucked into a space that suddenly felt much smaller than I remembered.
Mrs. Alvarez opened the refrigerator and pulled out a glass pitcher. “Agua de jamaica—iced hibiscus tea,” she said while pouring the burgundy drink into glasses.
She handed one to me first, then Calder. “Thank you,” he said.
Mrs. Alvarez watched him quietly the same way she studied most things before deciding what she thought about them. Then she returned to the stove. “You’ve been staying out there with Milo long?”
“Yes.”
“And you like the woods?”
“Yes.”
That answer seemed to please her for some reason. “Hm.” She stirred the pot on the stove slowly. “Milo always liked being outside more than he liked being in that big house in Chicago.”
Heat climbed faintly into my face at that.
Mrs. Alvarez glanced toward Calder again. “He was happiest when he went camping as a boy,” she said. “Always running off toward the trails and covered in dirt by the end of the day.”
“I was not covered in dirt.”
“Sí, estabas.” Yes, you were.
Calder looked at me calmly over the rim of his glass. “I believe that.”
I narrowed my eyes at him while Mrs. Alvarez smiled to herself.
The kitchen settled into an easier quiet after that. The sound of the spoon against the pot. The radio near the sink. The occasional creak of the ceiling fan overhead.
Calder took in the room—the ceramic fruit bowl on the counter, the faded hiking magnet on the refrigerator from some park Mrs. Alvarez probably had visited a while ago.
The back door opened. “Tía?”
A man stepped into the kitchen hugging two grocery bags and stopping when he noticed that his aunt wasn’t alone. Curls fell loosely across his forehead, like he’d been pushing his hands through them absentmindedly. Around my age, maybe a little older.
Mrs. Alvarez pointed toward the counter with her spoon. “Put those bags down before you drop them, mi sobrino—my nephew.” Neven obeyed automatically before wiping his hands against his jeans and crossing toward us. “Neven,” he said, offering his hand toward me first. “But you can call me Neve.”
I shook it easily. “Milo.”
Then Neven turned toward Calder. For the first time since walking in, he looked slightly uncertain—not fearful, just visibly recalibrating around Calder’s size and stillness.
Calder watched him calmly before taking his hand carefully.
Neven blinked at the sheer difference in scale.
“I am Calder.”
“It’s good to meet you both,” Neven said.
“Mrs. Alvarez has threatened to send you into the woods after me at least twice now,” I told him.
A faint smile touched Neven’s mouth as he glanced toward his aunt. “She likes assigning me impossible tasks.”
“You survived them all, didn’t you?” Mrs. Alvarez said dryly from the stove.
“Barely.”
Calder looked between them quietly, listening to the rhythm of the exchange with visible attention.
Mrs. Alvarez waved Neven toward the cabinet near the refrigerator. “Set the table for me, por favor, carino.”
“You know I was going to anyway.”
“Mmhmm.”
Neven moved easily around the kitchen, pulling plates from the cabinet while Mrs. Alvarez carried over a large dish that smelled like roasted peppers, garlic, and slow-cooked meat. Warm tortillas followed, along with rice and beans she’d apparently been working on half the afternoon.
“Tía, you made enough food to feed an army again.”
“I raised boys,” she said simply, like that explained everything.
Honestly, it kind of did.
Neven reached automatically for the serving spoon, but Mrs. Alvarez slapped lightly at his hand with a dish towel before pointing toward the table instead. “Sit. You can help after.”
A faintly long-suffering look crossed his face, though he obeyed immediately.
Calder watched the exchange with quiet focus.
Not long after, Mrs. Alvarez joined us at the table.
The conversation settled naturally after that.
Just the slow warmth of people learning each other around a kitchen table while evening light faded softer beyond the windows.
Mrs. Alvarez asked Calder where he was from, and that was when things became complicated.
“I live in the forests north of here,” Calder answered truthfully.
Neven blinked once.
Mrs. Alvarez did not. “And before that?” she asked calmly.
Calder considered the question with complete seriousness. “Also forests.”
A faint sound escaped Neven somewhere between a cough and a laugh before he hid it behind his glass.
I smiled despite myself.
Calder glanced toward me briefly, visibly trying to determine whether he’d answered incorrectly.
My foot brushed his lightly beneath the table. “You’re doing fine, babe.”
His attention stayed on me for a second longer before settling again.
Mrs. Alvarez shook her head softly and reached for another tortilla. “And how exactly did you two meet?”
There it was.
I looked toward Calder automatically.
He looked back at me with that same calm, unreadable focus that usually meant devastating honesty was about to happen. “Milo Hart was making bird noises in the woods.”
Mrs. Alvarez looked between us slowly now, clearly trying to determine whether this was a real conversation.
Neven lowered his glass slowly.
I covered my eyes briefly with one hand. “I knew that was going to be your opening sentence.”
“It is how we met.”
“Technically.”
“You were attempting to imitate a marsh wren.”
Mrs. Alvarez made a quiet sound under her breath. “Ay, Dios mío.” Oh my goodness.
Neven’s mouth twitched faintly at the corners. “This already feels like a terrible survival decision.”
“You have no idea.”
Calder’s eyes stayed on me while I spoke, completely focused in that way that still did unfair things to my nervous system. “He attracted a mother bear and her cubs instead,” he added.
Mrs. Alvarez turned toward me immediately. “A real bear?”
“I was fine.”
“Milo Hart.”
“I was eventually going to be fine.”
“You see?” She gestured in my direction while looking at Calder. “This is what happens when nobody supervises him properly.”
I dragged a hand down my face.
“And you stayed out there?” Neven asked me.
“In my defense, I didn’t know the bear was there.”
Calder’s gaze shifted toward me immediately. “He did not panic.”
The words landed simply. Matter-of-fact, but something quiet in the certainty behind them still reached inside me every time.
“He should have,” Calder added. “Most humans would have.”