Chapter 30 Celeste #2
Theo exhales, a long, ragged sound, and then he does something that makes me want to laugh and cry at once: he nods, hard, like a promise.
“Okay. Okay. If there’s anything—anything—you need while you’re here waiting for the guy that attacked Ara to get caught, tell me.
Wait—can I even do anything to help? No, I own a fucking café.
” He snaps his fingers. “WAIT! Orion can help; he still works for the FBI, right? What about you, Grumpy Green Giant? Do you still work for the FBI? Fuck. I don’t even care about Japan right now.
I just want Umbra safe.” He says it as if he means it, and then, he turns to Selene and adds, quieter, “We’re still going to Japan in a few weeks.
Even if the band can’t play, we’ll still go.
Until then, we’ll be there for you and Umbra in whatever way they need.
” Selene squeezes his arm, in a small, fierce affirmation.
“We’re relieved Ara’s safe and with family,” Selene says, leaning back against the counter like she’s bracing for my reaction. “And I know you two are running on fumes, so we’ll keep this short. We just… have big news.”
My eyes go wide before I can stop them. She groans.
“Not that kind of news,” she mutters. “Theo moved in.”
I blink. “Wait—like officially?”
Theo’s grin is immediate, and he nods his head hard and fast enough to give me a headache.
“Yep. Last week. We even survived an IKEA trip together, which I think legally counts as a compatibility test. Which means my place is sitting empty. And we figured… if you two want space, or quiet, or just somewhere that’s yours while you’re here, it’s there for you.
I went over earlier and made sure you have clean sheets, stocked coffee, the works.
I even left instructions on how not to ruin my French press.
Everything else in my kitchen is simple enough; you don’t need instructions for it. ”
All I can do is stare at them. My chest tightens in that warm, painful way that comes from being cared for more than you expect. I want to stay here and be close to Selene, but the idea of having a place to breathe lands like a soft exhale I didn’t know I needed.
“Congratulations! But you didn’t have to set everything else up for us,” I say, voice thinner than I mean it to be.
“We wanted to,” Selene says. “You’re safe here. But if you need a little distance from the noise, it’s yours.”
I glance at Lucian. He’s already watching me, like he knew before I did that this would be the right call. I give a small nod. He returns it, just as quiet.
“We’d love that. Thank you,” I murmur. “Really.”
Selene presses a key into my palm, warm from her hand. Theo rattles off the address and assures us it’s only ten minutes away, then they both insist we go rest before I can argue.
Which is how we end up dragging our bags up the steps of a tidy little bungalow with a porch swing that sways gently in the breeze.
The air inside smells faintly of cedar and the last coffee he brewed before he packed up his life.
The living room is mostly bare, just a couch pushed against the wall with a coffee table in front of it, a lamp with a crooked shade, and a single framed photo on the mantle that he must’ve forgotten to take.
Or maybe he left it on purpose. I walk over to it before flipping the picture of Theo and his aunt on its face.
He definitely meant to leave it. If it were me, I would’ve burned the photo and everything else that was hers.
The thought of becoming an orphan because of the selfish acts of someone who claimed to love me makes my chest tighten.
It’s a beautiful house, even stripped down with warm wood floors and tall windows that let in the late-afternoon light.
We walk through to the kitchen, noticing the clean counters and a lone mug drying upside-down by the sink.
Everything else is gone; there is no clutter, no noise, just the bones of a home he once lived in.
We walk through it slowly, our footsteps soft against the floorboards. There are little signs he tried to make it homier for us with fresh towels folded on the bathroom counter, a candle set out but not lit, a blanket draped over the back of the couch like he wasn’t sure where it should go.
I move down the hallway, fingers brushing the wall as I pass the first door. I push it open to find… nothing. Just a bare room with the streetlight pooling across bare floors. There is no furniture or curtains. It’s empty.
The second room is basically the same, with four bare walls, a window, and the faint echo of a life that used to be here. It hits me then, how much he must’ve stripped away when he left; he didn’t expect to come back.
He must’ve scrambled today, trying to make this place feel less empty.
My throat tightens at his kindness as we reach the last door at the end of the hall. Lucian hesitates for half a second before nudging it open.
There’s a queen-sized bed made up with fresh sheets and a single nightstand with a lamp and a small stack of romance novels.
It’s the only room he prepared.
I stand there, taking it all in—the emptiness of the other rooms, the effort gathered here, the quiet intention behind every small choice.
Of course, there’s only one bed.
Of course.
Lucian exhales beside me, a low, almost apologetic sound. I don’t look at him yet. I’m too busy trying to steady the strange, warm ache blooming behind my ribs.