15. Calliope
Calliope
The Bellwether van turns into the drive at ten exactly, because apparently the universe has decided punctuality is the only mercy I deserve this morning.
I stand in the foyer with my hands clasped in front of me, trying not to rub my palms against my thighs every three seconds.
The whole house is ready. The cards are in their little dishes in the kitchen, sunroom, living room, and Theo’s room.
The lemon bars are under glass on the island.
The green tea cookies Garrett insists are edible are stacked beside them in a tin he already labeled with his name, because Sloane threatened them before breakfast. The suite upstairs has low lamps, soft linens, a nesting platform, extra blankets, and enough space for Theo to decide what kind of quiet he wants.
It should make me feel better. Mostly, it makes me aware of my own breathing.
Sloane paces from the foyer to the front window and back again, stopping every few passes to touch me.
A hand at my waist. A thumb over my wrist. His mouth pressed briefly to my hair before he moves away like standing still hurts.
He took his rut regulator this morning, but there’s still something bright and restless under his skin, all smoked cedar and brown sugar warming the air every time he looks at the front door.
Idris waits beside the console table, controlled in the way he gets when everyone else is one bad sound from shattering.
He checked the route twice after breakfast, then checked the suite, then checked Sloane, then checked me with one long look that made me eat half a protein bar while glaring at him.
Now he stands close enough that his knuckles brush mine whenever I shift.
Garrett comes out of the kitchen with two mugs in hand and his sleeves rolled up again. He gives one to Idris, keeps the other, and touches Sloane’s shoulder as he passes him. The gesture makes Sloane stop pacing for half a breath.
“Let the van park before you open the door,” Garrett says.
Sloane cuts him a look. “I know how doors work.”
“You know how to remove doors,” Garrett says, calm as ever. “Different skill set.”
The corner of Idris’s mouth moves, and I almost laugh. It catches in my throat instead, sharp and nervous. Garrett notices, because Garrett notices everything, and his attention settles on me.
He doesn’t crowd. He only steps close enough to lower his voice. “He already knows this house, sweetheart. Today, he gets to learn it can be his too.”
I nod, holding those words carefully. They sound good.
They sound like the thing I have been trying to believe since last night, when Sloane carried me out of the kitchen laughing and Idris followed us down the hall while Garrett stayed behind with the tablets and the timer and the flour still on his sleeve.
The van stops outside.
Sloane’s hand finds mine, and Idris’s settles at the small of my back. Garrett opens the door.
Counselor Miller steps out first, a folder tucked under one arm and her expression softer than Andrea’s ever managed to be.
She gives Garrett a professional nod, then looks past him to the rest of us.
When her eyes land on me, she smiles like she remembers the scarf in the care package and the note about the plant book waiting in the sunroom.
Theo steps down from the van.
For a second, he looks exactly like he did the first day he came here: too still, too careful, his bag clutched in both hands and his dark eyes scanning the doorway like every face is a question he might answer wrong. Then his gaze finds mine.
The air leaves him.
I don’t move toward him. I want to. Every part of me wants to cross the front walk and put myself between him and whatever memory made his shoulders climb so high, but we talked about this.
Miller said arrival days can turn one eager step into pressure.
Idris reminded me that choice only counts if we leave space for it.
Sloane threatened to glue his own shoes to the floor if necessary.
So I stay where I am.
“Hi, Theo,” I say.
His fingers tighten on the bag strap. His mouth opens, then closes, and his scent reaches us with the faint breeze through the doorway, cardamom sharp over crushed peach blossom and the clean, flat trace of Bellwether laundry.
Garrett steps onto the porch, stopping halfway between Theo and the threshold. “Welcome home, Theo.”
Theo looks at him, and I watch the careful bow of his head, the way his body recognizes the head Alpha before his nerves decide what to do with the rest of us.
Garrett doesn’t touch him at first. He holds out one hand, palm angled where Theo can see it, waiting until Theo gives the smallest nod before he rests his hand briefly on Theo’s shoulder.
It’s gentle. Grounding. Familiar enough that Theo’s scent steadies instead of spiking.
Sloane makes a low sound beside me and clamps his mouth shut as if he can physically trap the welcome he wants to shout. Theo’s eyes flick to him, and Sloane lifts both hands in surrender.
“I’m behaving,” Sloane says, quieter than usual. “Against my nature.”
Theo’s mouth twitches.
That tiny movement almost takes me apart.
Idris steps forward next, smooth and slow. “I have your cards placed where we discussed. Kitchen, sunroom, living room, bedroom. There are also blank ones in the drawer beside the sofa.”
Theo nods at him, and Idris takes the duffel from his hand only after Theo lets go first. No grab. No assumption. Theo watches the bag leave his fingers and relaxes when Idris keeps it low at his side instead of carrying it away.
Miller marks something on her paper. “We’ll do the walk-through, confirm room access and communication placement, then I’ll step out for the first private settling window. Theo, you can ask to pause at any time.”
Theo reaches into his pocket and touches the edge of his cards.
I feel ridiculous for how proud that makes me.
Garrett turns slightly, making the open door feel less like a threshold and more like an invitation. “Come in when you’re ready.”
Theo looks at all of us again, counting the space we’ve left for him. Then he steps inside.
He doesn’t come straight to me. He steps across the threshold beside Garrett, pauses when Sloane’s scent thickens with relief, and lets Idris show him the little dish of communication cards on the foyer table.
Sloane asks before touching his arm, and Theo nods, accepting the brief squeeze Sloane gives him like he’s filing it somewhere important.
Then, only then, Theo shifts closer to me.
It’s half a step. Barely anything. His shoulder brushes my sleeve, and the breath he takes afterward sounds easier.
“Hi,” he whispers.
My chest goes hot and soft all at once. “Hi, Star.”
His lashes flicker at the name, and his fingers skim the hem of my cardigan before he catches himself. He looks toward Miller like he expects correction, but Miller only watches with a careful, neutral face.
Sloane sees the movement too. His eyes drop to Theo’s hand, then to me, and his smile changes into something quieter.
Idris’s fingers brush my back once, a steadying touch that lets me know he saw it as well.
Garrett stands close enough to be part of the circle, and when Theo glances back at him, Garrett nods toward the hall.
“Let’s show you the room first,” Garrett says. “Then food, if you want it.”
Theo nods again.
We go upstairs as a group, but it doesn’t feel like a procession.
Sloane walks ahead because he can't help himself, then remembers and slows down so he isn’t leading Theo like a golden retriever with anxiety.
Idris carries the bag. Garrett walks near Miller, answering the practical questions in a low voice.
I stay at Theo’s side because that is where Theo keeps drifting, even when he accepts Sloane’s grin and Idris’s instructions and Garrett’s calm presence.
The suite is bright in the softest way. The curtains are open enough to show the garden without flooding the room.
The lamps are on instead of the overhead light.
Theo’s nesting platform sits against the far wall, broad and low and piled with blankets he rearranged four times this morning before Idris told him to stop assaulting the pillows.
On the dresser, the plant book waits beside a shallow bowl of cards, a water bottle, and a small plate with two lemon bars under a glass cover.
Theo stops just inside the doorway.
I watch him look at every piece of it.
His fingers twitch when he sees the platform. Sloane holds his breath. Idris’s attention sharpens, but his body stays loose. Garrett steps aside so Theo has a clear path in or out.
“The bathroom is through there,” Idris says, pointing without moving. “No lock unless you want one added. Privacy is yours either way. Hall cameras only, no audio, and nothing in the room.”
Miller notes that too.
Sloane shifts his weight. “The platform is sturdy. I tested it.”
“He jumped on it,” Idris says.
“I tested it with enthusiasm,” Sloane corrects.
Theo looks at him, and another little almost-smile moves across his face. Sloane looks like he could live on that alone for at least a week.
Garrett picks up the plate cover and tilts it enough for Theo to see the lemon bars. “These are Callie’s. Sloane has been banned from touching them until you decide if you want one.”
Theo’s gaze snaps to me.
“I made too many,” I say, then glance at Sloane. “Because someone kept saying emergency dessert should be a legal category.”
“It should,” Sloane says. “Garrett refused to file the paperwork.”
Garrett sets the cover back down. “The courts have suffered enough.”
Theo makes a sound that might be a laugh if it had more air behind it. It isn’t much, but the room warms around it. Even Miller smiles down at her notes.
For a few minutes, it works.
Theo touches the blanket closest to the edge of the platform.
He lets Sloane show him how the lower drawer pulls out with extra pillows.
He lets Idris point out the cards and the water and the lamp switch.
He lets Garrett explain that no one will enter without asking, even if the door is open, unless there is a safety issue.
When Miller asks if the room feels acceptable for the first settling window, Theo looks at the platform, then at the window, then at the lemon bars. His hand moves to his pocket, but he doesn’t pull out a card.
“Yes,” he whispers.
The word is thin, but it is there.
Sloane looks at the ceiling like he's begging someone for strength. Idris’ mouth softens. Garrett gives Miller a nod, professional and pleased, and I press my thumbnail into the side of my finger so I don't do something overwhelming with my joy.
We go downstairs after that. Miller reviews the placement window at the island while Theo sits beside me at the counter, one knee angled toward mine under the overhang.
Sloane eats half a lemon bar in one bite and nearly loses a finger when Theo reaches for the plate at the same time.
Idris makes tea, then puts a sandwich in front of me because apparently today hasn't excused me from being perceived.
Garrett takes one of his green tea cookies from the tin and eats it with a straight face while Sloane watches in horror.
Theo sees the whole thing.
He watches Sloane lean over the island to steal the edge of my sandwich and watches Idris correct him by handing him a full plate of his own.
He watches Garrett ask Miller about transport notes while brushing crumbs from his thumb.
He watches me nudge the lemon bars closer to him without making a big moment out of it.
Then he takes one.
I pretend not to notice. Everyone else pretends worse.
Miller leaves just before noon, after confirming she’ll return for the next check-in.
Theo stands with Garrett at the door while she gives final reminders, and he accepts Garrett’s hand at the back of his shoulder again, a quiet head-Alpha touch that keeps him still when the van starts and pulls away.
The house closes around us after.
No Bellwether clipboard. No outside witness. Just us, with crumbs on the island and dishes in the sink and Theo standing in the foyer like he has forgotten what comes after arrival.
Sloane’s restraint finally cracks enough for him to crouch in front of Theo, bringing himself lower instead of looming. “Can I hug you?”
Theo looks at me first.
I keep my face soft and my hands still. “Your choice.”
Theo looks back at Sloane and nods.
Sloane wraps him up carefully, which is a miracle in itself. His arms go around Theo’s back, broad and warm, and Theo disappears into him for two full breaths before his hands rise and grip Sloane’s shirt. The sound Sloane makes is quiet enough that he might think we miss it.
We don't miss it.
Idris waits until Sloane releases him before asking, “Me?”
Theo’s nod comes quicker this time.
Idris’ hug is different. Less engulfing, more anchored. One hand between Theo’s shoulders, the other at the back of his neck, holding him in place without trapping him there. Theo’s eyes close, and some of the sharpness leaves his scent.
Garrett doesn't ask right away. He gives Theo a second to breathe, then steps close enough for Theo to feel him.
“You know my answer to doors and rooms,” Garrett says. “Same answer for touch. You decide.”
Theo turns toward him.
It takes longer than it did with Sloane and Idris, but eventually he steps into Garrett’s space. Garrett closes one arm around him, firm and steady, his palm broad over Theo’s back. Theo is stiff for the first second. Then Garrett murmurs something I can't hear, and Theo’s shoulders loosen.
My throat gets tight watching it.
Theo pulls back from Garrett and looks directly at me. The fear I’ve been holding beneath my ribs loosens when he crosses the foyer without leaving an empty space between us.
He doesn’t ask. He only looks.
I open my arms.
Theo crosses the foyer and presses into me so fast I rock back a step. Sloane’s hand catches my hip from behind, steadying both of us, and Theo buries his face against my shoulder with a shuddering breath that goes straight through my ribs. I wrap my arms around him and hold on.
“Hi,” I whisper again, uselessly.
His fingers twist in my cardigan. “Hi.”
Sloane’s hand stays at my hip. Idris stands close enough that his sleeve brushes mine. Garrett remains near the door, watching the four of us with that quiet, approving expression that makes this feel like something allowed.