16. Calliope #2
The wanting that moves through me is soft and startling and far too alive to call soothing.
It isn't Sloane’s consuming heat or Idris’ controlled command.
It is Theo’s breath catching every time I answer him, Theo’s fingers learning the shape of permission, Theo pressing his mouth to mine like each kiss proves the house hasn't swallowed him.
He leans into me until my back presses more firmly against the wall. My knee shifts between his, and his breath breaks apart. I stop moving.
His fingers tap my wrist once. Then again, impatient this time, and I laugh quietly into his mouth.
The sound makes him smile.
That smile ruins me.
I kiss him deeper, and his hand curls at the back of my neck.
The closet is too small and too warm. My shoulder aches against the shelf.
One of the folded towels falls somewhere near my hip.
None of it matters. For a few bright minutes, there is only Theo’s mouth, Theo’s hands, Theo’s scent unwinding into mine, and the terrifying, beautiful realization that he isn't only calming down.
He's wanting me.
And I'm wanting him back.
When we finally slow, it is because his body runs out of strength before his mouth runs out of need. He folds into my side, panting against my neck, one hand still hooked in my cardigan like I might vanish if he lets go.
I press my lips to his hair. “Stay here. I’ve got you.”
He hums, a small, worn-out sound, and tucks his face under my chin. The nest shifts around us as he drags one of my sweaters over his lap. I keep my fingers in his hair, stroking slowly until the last of the tremors ease from his shoulders.
The house stays quiet.
At some point, his breathing evens out.
I wait longer than I need to, partly because moving feels impossible and partly because I don't want to leave him.
He's asleep against me, lashes dark against his cheeks, mouth soft from kissing, one hand still curled in my sweater.
The closet smells like both of us now, pear and vanilla tea tangled with cardamom and peach blossom, and the knowledge of that makes heat rise up my throat.
I don't feel guilty.
That should probably scare me.
Instead, I feel careful. Shaken. Tender in places I didn't know could still bruise.
My phone buzzes once in my pocket.
I freeze, then ease it out with two fingers.
Sloane: Doing okay?
The message on its own almost makes me cry. I slowly type with one thumb.
Me: He found a small closet nest by the laundry room. He’s asleep. Please don’t come in yet. He panicked a little but he’s settled.
The response comes fast.
Sloane: Tell me where to stand.
My eyes sting but before I can answer, Idris sends another message into the group thread.
Idris: We’ll keep the hall clear. Does he need water nearby?
Garrett’s message follows.
Garrett: Let him sleep. I’ll tell Miller the first settling space changed.
There. All of them. Waiting. Trusting me with this.
I tuck the phone away, then spend five minutes working myself free without waking Theo.
It isn't graceful. My foot has gone numb.
My cardigan is trapped under his elbow. The shelf tries to take out a piece of my hair.
By the time I make it to the closet opening, my lips are swollen, my sweater is twisted, and my knees feel unreliable for reasons that have nothing to do with sitting on the floor.
I ease the door almost closed, leaving a sliver of air and light.
Garrett is in the hall.
I freeze with one hand still on the knob.
He isn't holding towels. He isn't standing there like a judge. He's leaning against the opposite wall with his phone in one hand and his jacket folded over his arm, waiting exactly far enough away that the closet door can open without him crowding it. When he sees my face, his expression shifts.
He crosses the hall and pulls me into his chest.
The hug catches me wrong because it is too steady for the way I feel. My hands hover for a second before they settle against his shirt, and he tightens one arm around my shoulders like I have done something worth holding onto.
“There you are,” he murmurs. “Breathe, sweetheart.”
I do.
I breathe because it is Garrett and he sounds calm, because his shirt smells like cold mint and polished leather, because my mouth still feels like Theo’s and my body hasn't figured out how to stand in a hallway after that closet.
His hand moves once over the back of my hair. “Is he settled?”
“Sleeping,” I whisper into his shirt. “He found the closet. I didn’t want to crowd him.”
“Good call.” Garrett keeps his voice low, his chest steady against my cheek. “First day home is a lot. Smaller spaces can feel safer before the house starts feeling like his.”
I nod, the words loosening something under my ribs. “I wasn’t sure if I should’ve called one of you.”
His arm shifts, keeping me close while he looks toward the closet door. “We’ll tell everyone. Let him sleep first. There’s no reason to turn the first place he chose into a committee.”
My throat tightens. “I didn’t do much.”
“You stayed.” His hand settles between my shoulders, warm and certain. “That counts.”
I close my eyes before he can see too much in them.
The comfort works. My breathing steadies against Garrett’s shirt while Sloane and Idris wait farther down the hall and Theo sleeps inside a nest made mostly from my clothes.
Garrett holds me for another second before easing back. He doesn't let go all the way. One hand remains at my shoulder, thumb resting over the seam of my cardigan. “First-day attachments can feel bigger than they are,” he says. “That doesn’t make them wrong. It means we move carefully.”
I nod, because carefully sounds like love when Garrett says it with his hand still warm on my back.
Sloane appears at the end of the hall before I can answer. He stops the second he sees us, gaze moving from Garrett’s arm around me to my face to the closet door. There is no jealousy in him. No suspicion. Only a ferocious restraint that makes his whole body look too large for the hallway.
“Is he asleep?” Sloane asks.
I nod. “Curled up in half my clothes.”
Sloane’s mouth trembles like he wants to smile and ache at the same time. “Smart boy.”
Idris steps up beside him with a water bottle, a folded throw, and one of the spare card dishes from the living room. He takes in Garrett’s hand on my shoulder, my twisted sweater, the sliver of closet darkness, and he only asks, “Where do you want these?”
The question almost undoes me.
Garrett answers before I have to. “Outside the door for now. He can see them if he wakes, and no one has to reach over him.”
Idris sets everything down exactly where Garrett says, then looks at me. “Do you want to sit?”
My knees answer before my pride does.
Sloane comes forward and wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me from Garrett’s steady hold into his own. The shift feels natural, one piece of the pack passing me to another. Sloane presses his mouth to my temple, then keeps his lips there while he looks at the closet door.
“You did good, baby,” he murmurs.
I lean into him harder than I mean to. “He picked my hoodie.”
“Of course he did.” Sloane’s voice goes rough. “Best thing in this house.”
Idris gives him a look. “The structural integrity of the nesting platform would disagree.”
“The nesting platform is upstairs being rejected,” Sloane says. “My argument stands.”
A laugh slips out of me before I can stop it, all three Alphas looking at me like the sound matters.
Garrett’s phone buzzes. He checks it, then lowers his voice. “Miller moved the placement check from four to six. I told her he found a smaller settling space and that we’re not moving him unless he asks.”
Sloane exhales. “Thank you.”
Garrett nods once. “We follow him today.”
Sloane lowers himself to the floor beside the hall table, one knee up, his shoulder pressed to the wall.
He keeps me tucked beside him until I stop shaking.
Idris sits across from us with the quiet patience of a man willing to guard a closet for the rest of the afternoon if that is what the pack needs.
Garrett takes the chair from the little writing nook and sets it near the end of the hall, close enough to belong, far enough to keep the doorway open.
After a while, Theo stirs inside. Fabric rustles. His breath catches, then calms again when he sees the water and the cards outside the door. The sliver of light shifts, and one dark eye appears in the gap.
I lift my hand from where it rests in Sloane’s and place it palm-up on the floor between me and the closet.
Theo looks at it for a long time. Then his fingers slip through the gap and touch mine.