Chapter 11
Callum
Marco catches me checking my phone for the third time in five minutes. He grins like he's just cracked a massive case.
"Who is she?" he asks, tossing a roll of electrical tape across the engine bay.
I catch it without looking and shove the phone back in my pocket. "Nobody."
"Nobody makes you smile at your phone like a lovesick teenager," Jen says, appearing from behind the truck. She wipes grease off her hands with a rag. "You've been weird for two weeks, Hayes. You turned down a Saturday shift. You never turn down Saturdays."
"Maybe I have a life now."
"That's exactly what concerns us," Marco says.
Jen snorts.
They're not wrong. I have been different, and I can't exactly hide it.
My scent is completely fucked. It's got Milo threaded all through it now, sweet and permanent.
Anyone in this firehouse with a functioning nose knows something is up.
I've been rearranging my entire schedule around an omega who works at the library on Saturdays and has a study group on Thursdays.
"Got somewhere to be?" Jen asks as I grab my jacket off the hook.
"Meeting Ava for coffee."
"Tell her I said hi," Marco calls after me. "And tell your secret girlfriend we said hi too."
"There's no—" I start, but I give up. The lie is exhausting. Plus, my secret situation involves a boyfriend, not a girlfriend, and the word "secret" is about to become past tense if I can get through the next hour without chickening out.
My phone buzzes on the walk to my truck.
Milo: i stress-baked again. the apartment smells like a bakery and Jude keeps giving me looks because apparently i smell like "someone who's been rolling around in alpha" which is a direct quote. send help
I lean against the driver's side door and read it twice. The image of Milo in his kitchen, wearing one of my shirts under his oversized sweater and covered in flour while Jude gives him shit... Jesus. My chest gets tight. I want to go home, eat all four dozen cookies, and bury my face in his neck.
Callum: Heading to meet Ava now. I'll text you after.
Milo: ok. good luck. please don't die
Milo: if she murders you i'll avenge you but i'd prefer not to have to
Callum: Very reassuring. Thank you.
I put the phone in my pocket, climb into the truck, and drive to the café. I try not to think about the fact that in thirty minutes, I'm going to tell my sister I've been secretly mating her best friend. In her bathroom. In my apartment. On her kitchen counter while she cooked ten feet away.
That is not the kind of information that improves sibling relationships.
I get there first. I always get there first. It gives me time to pick a table, order Ava's drink, and sit here staring at a mug I'm not going to drink from while I try to figure out how the hell to do this.
I run into burning buildings for a living, but trying to figure out how to tell my little sister I claimed her best friend makes my palms sweat.
Ava blows in seven minutes late. Her bag is falling off one shoulder, her hair is half-up, and she's talking before she even sits down.
"I'm so sorry, my professor went over and then there was a line at—ooh, you got my drink." She slides into the chair across from me and wraps her hands around the latte. "You're the best brother. I should get that tattooed."
"Please don't."
"Too late, I'm committed. How was shift? Did Marco leave food on the counter again?"
I listen to her talk. I love her. I'd take a bullet for her. But right now, her rapid-fire stories are making the knot in my stomach pull tighter. I've been lying to her for almost two weeks, and it's eating me alive.
"Shift was fine," I say. "How's your week been?"
She tells me about her week. A group project disaster, a professor she loves, a new coffee shop that uses oat milk she thinks Milo would like.
"Speaking of Milo, have you talked to him lately?
" she asks. "He's been so weird. He bailed on movie night again, and last time I saw him he was wearing this massive sweater in seventy-degree weather.
And he smelled like—" She frowns. "I don't know.
Different. Like someone else's soap. Do you think he's seeing someone? "
My grip tightens on my mug. "Maybe."
"It's that KnotMe guy, isn't it? The anonymous one he matched with?" She takes a sip of her latte. "I just want to know he's okay, you know? He gets so quiet when something's actually big."
"He's okay," I say. My voice comes out a little too careful.
Ava stops. She puts the latte down and studies me. Her head tilts. She's looking at me the exact same way she did when I accidentally backed into her car. She knows something is off.
"Okay," she says slowly. "What's going on with you?"
"Nothing. Just tired from—"
"Callum. You're doing the face. The one you do when you're about to tell me something I'm not going to like." She narrows her eyes. "Please tell me you didn't back into my car again."
"I didn't back into your car."
"Then what?"
I planned this. I had sentences ready. But looking at her across the table, every rehearsed word just evaporates. All I have is the truth.
"I met someone," I say. "On KnotMe. You were right about that."
Her face lights up. "I KNEW it. Okay, tell me everything. When? How long? Is it serious?"
"It's a mate bond."
That shuts her up. Her eyes go wide. She knows what a mate bond means.
"A mate bond," she repeats, her voice dropping. "Cal, that's... that's huge. Who is—"
"It's someone you know."
She stares at me. Her hands go completely still on her mug. I can practically see the gears turning in her head, running through every single person we both know.
"It's Milo," I say. I can't let her guess.
She freezes. I watch the shock hit her, followed immediately by the math. The dinner at her apartment. The bathroom. The way I always ask about him.
"The dinner," she says.
"Yeah."
"In my BATHROOM?"
"Yeah."
"While I was cooking chicken?"
"The chicken was very good."
She stares at me for a long time. I brace myself. I'm waiting for the yelling, for her to tell me I crossed a line, that I ruined everything. Instead, her eyes narrow with a sharp, protective edge.
"Is Milo okay?" she asks. "Cal, he's sweet, and he doesn't know how to say no to things. Did you—"
"He came to me," I say, cutting her off. I need her to know this part is real. "After the dinner. He texted me, and he walked to my apartment, and he chose this. I would never pressure him, Ava. You know me."
She searches my face. Then, slowly, she nods. Her shoulders drop a fraction.
"Why didn't you tell me?" she asks. That's the part that hurts her. Not the bond, but the secret.
"Because I was scared," I admit. "I was scared you'd look at me different. I didn't want to be the guy who messed with his sister's best friend. I should have told you sooner, and I'm sorry."
She picks up her latte, takes a sip, and sets it back down.
"I always knew Milo had a thing for you," she says, her voice tight. "He can't cook at my place without bringing up your garlic bread. I just thought it was a crush. I thought he'd get over it."
"He didn't."
"Clearly." She tugs at the sleeve of her sweater, and something shifts in her expression. The protective edge hardens into something quieter. Colder. "You know what the worst part is? I can do the math, Cal. The dinner was weeks ago. You've been lying to me for weeks. Both of you."
"Ava—"
"How many times did I text you about Milo being weird? About his scent changing? I asked you, and you sat there and said maybe like you didn't already know." She shakes her head. "That's not protecting anyone. That's just lying to your sister."
The words land exactly where she means them to. My throat tightens. "You're right. I should have told you sooner."
"Yeah. You should have." She picks up her bag. No hesitation, no lingering. She stands, slings it over her shoulder, and doesn't look at me. "I need some time. Don't text me tonight. I'll reach out when I'm ready."
"Ava—"
"I'm not saying it's over, Callum. I'm saying I'm hurt, and I need to be hurt for a minute without you trying to fix it." She meets my eyes then, and the look is steady and serious. "Take care of him. That part I mean."
She turns and walks out of the café. No kiss on the head. No dinner invite. Just the bell above the door and the sound of her boots on the sidewalk getting farther away.
I sit there for a long time. The espresso machine hisses. Someone orders an iced coffee. My chest feels hollowed out, not relieved. I knew she wouldn't scream. Ava doesn't scream. She goes quiet, and quiet from Ava is worse.
I pull out my phone.
Callum: Told her.
Callum: She didn't scream. But she's hurt. She needs time.
Callum: I think we just have to let her have it.
The typing dots appear immediately. Disappear. Appear again. Disappear. Then:
Milo: oh
Milo: how much time?
Callum: I don't know. However long she needs.
Milo: is she mad at me too?
Callum: She's mad at both of us. But she told me to take care of you, so that's something.
Milo: ok
Milo: i'm scared
Callum: Me too. But she said she'd reach out. That means she's coming back.
Milo: you really believe that?
Callum: Ava always comes back. She just needs to do it on her terms.
A long pause. Then:
Milo: can i come over tonight? i don't want to be alone with this
Callum: Already making dinner. Bring the cookies.
Milo: all four dozen of them
I put the phone down and take the first sip of my coffee. It's gone completely cold, and it tastes like nothing.