19. Calliope
Calliope
By the time Mara turns onto my street, I’ve read Theo’s last message four times.
My head aches from the day in that deep, dull way that starts behind my eyes and spreads down into my neck.
I’ve answered too many emails, smiled through too many hallway conversations, and spent forty minutes explaining why “the source implied it” still requires a citation.
My coat is folded over my lap, my bag is wedged against my feet, and none of that matters as much as the little thread of messages lighting my phone.
Theo: I found the blue bowl.
I run my thumb beneath the words without touching the screen hard enough to open the keyboard.
I can see him bent over the cabinet, serious and quiet, looking for the one bowl he’d decided belonged to dinner.
He’s been doing that all day, sending me pieces of the house in small lines.
The sauce. The bread. The bowl. Idris’ instructions.
Sloane failing to find something that was probably directly in front of him.
Every message feels like Theo putting a hand out from another room.
Mara glances over as she slows near the lake road. “You’ve got that look again.”
I look up from the phone, but my smile has already ruined any chance of pretending. “He found the bowl he wanted for dinner.”
“That’s sweet,” she says, and this time she doesn’t tease the shape out of it. Her attention returns to the road while rain streaks across the windshield. “He’s been texting you all afternoon?”
“Little things,” I say, opening the keyboard because I can’t leave him waiting while I talk about him. My thumbs hover for a second before I type back. “Dinner things.”
Me: I’m glad you found it. I’m almost home.
The message sends, and I watch it settle beneath his. My chest feels too full for the inside of Mara’s car, and I hate that I’m this easy to read. Theo has been in my phone for less than twenty-four hours, and already the sight of his name pulls me out of whatever room I’m in.
Mara’s voice softens. “You like that he tells you.”
I nod before I think to hide it. “I like knowing where he is. I like that he can reach me when he wants to.” My phone buzzes again, and I look down so quickly Mara gives a small laugh under her breath.
Theo: Idris says dinner is almost ready.
The message is plain and careful, and something about it makes me want to press the phone to my mouth.
He doesn’t have to dress the words up. He doesn’t have to make them big.
He wants me to know dinner is waiting, so he tells me, and I sit there with my tired hands curled around the phone like he has given me something fragile.
Me: I’ll be there in a minute.
The dots appear almost immediately, then vanish. A few seconds later, they come back.
Theo: Good.
I breathe out through my nose, smiling down at the screen like an idiot.
Mara’s gaze drops briefly to my bag, to the cream folder sticking out beside my laptop. “Are you going to tell them about Halston tonight?”
My thumb goes still on the edge of my phone. “Maybe.” I touch the folder because not touching it somehow makes it feel louder. “Garrett already saw the email when I printed the packet this morning, so it’s not exactly a secret.”
“That doesn’t mean you’ve talked about it,” Mara says.
“I know.” I look through the rain-streaked windshield toward the glow of my street. “I will. Just not the second I walk in the door.”
Mara pulls up to the stop sign at the end of my street, and her gaze flicks to me again. “Callie.”
“I know,” I say, though I’m not sure what I’m agreeing to. My voice comes out too quiet, so I tuck the phone against my thigh and look toward the wet blur of houses. “It’s just nice.”
“It’s more than nice.” Mara doesn’t push the words hard. She lets them sit between us while the wipers move rain off the glass. “You feel different when it’s him.”
My throat tightens, and I stare at the glowing windows of my house as they come into view. “He’s settling with everyone. He’s been with all of them.”
“I believe you.” Mara turns into the drive and parks behind the hedges, leaving the engine on while the rain ticks over the roof. “I’m talking about you.”
The words hit too close, so I reach for the safer thing. “I saw him this morning, but I barely had any time with him. He came to my room, and later Garrett had him in the office while I was getting ready to leave.”
Mara’s eyebrows lift, and I feel heat climb my neck before she says a word.
“I didn’t see what happened in the office,” I say too quickly. “I heard enough to know Theo was okay, and then I left for campus before I could be weird about it.”
Mara’s mouth curves, but she keeps her voice gentle. “Garrett does have that effect on a room.”
“Garrett and I aren’t like that.” I say it without looking away from the house, because the distinction matters and because I don’t want her teasing it into something messy. “He’s pack. He’s safe. Theo likes him.”
“I know.” Mara reaches over and squeezes my wrist, her thumb warm against my damp sleeve. “Your house sounds full. You sound happy when you talk about all of them.”
I sit with that for a breath. The house is bright through the rain, and my body is already leaning toward it. I want the kitchen. I want Sloane’s voice and Idris at the stove. I want Garrett’s calm from whatever room he’s claimed. I want Theo’s careful texts to turn back into his hands.
“I'm happy,” I say, and the truth of it leaves me a little exposed.
Mara lets go of my wrist. “Then go inside before he sends another update and you start crying in my car.”
A laugh slips out of me, softer than the joke deserves. My phone buzzes again before I can reach for the door, and Theo’s name lights the screen.
Theo: Are you here?
My answer comes easily.
Me: I’m coming in now.
I get out with my bag over my shoulder and my phone still in my hand. Mara waits until I reach the porch before she pulls away, and I stand under the overhang for one extra second, looking at Theo’s last message while dinner and pack warmth wait on the other side of the door.
The lock sticks for half a breath before it gives, and I make a note to mention it to Idris again even though I know he will say he already fixed it once and then fix it again.
Heat rolls out from the kitchen the moment I step inside, carrying garlic, lemon, browned butter, and the deeper layered scents of the people I have been trying not to miss out loud all day.
My shoulders drop before I even get my coat off.
Sloane’s voice reaches me first, low and amused from the kitchen. “You’re going to have to tell her you found it. I’m not taking credit for the bowl after you nearly took my hand off over it.”
A softer sound answers him, too quiet to be words from this distance, but it pulls me forward faster than anything else could.
My bag slips on my shoulder as I toe out of my shoes, and I don't bother hanging my coat properly.
I drop it over the mudroom bench, still holding my phone, and follow the voices.
Theo is standing at the island beside Idris, holding a small blue bowl in both hands like it contains something far more fragile than chopped parsley.
He isn't wearing my cardigan tonight. He's in one of Sloane’s sweatshirts, sleeves pushed up badly and already sliding down over his wrists again. Idris’ dark socks are on his feet, too large at the toes.
Something of Garrett clings to him too, not clothing exactly, but the close, clean trace of office and leather, the kind of scent that settles into skin when someone has spent the morning held against a steady body.
The sight makes me stop in the doorway. Sloane’s sweatshirt swallows Theo’s shoulders, Idris’s dark socks bunch around his ankles, and the faint trace of Garrett’s study still clings to his skin. He’s spent the day wrapped in my Alphas.
Then Theo looks up and sees me.
The blue bowl hits the counter with a dull clink, and Idris’ hand moves fast enough to steady it before it tips. Theo is already across the kitchen by then, a blur of too-big sleeves and bright eyes, and I barely have time to brace before he collides with me.
My bag slides off my shoulder and lands somewhere near my feet. I don't care. Theo’s arms go around my middle, his face pressing hard into the curve of my neck, and the sound that leaves him is so happy and relieved that my eyes sting before I can stop them.
“Hi,” I whisper, laughing as I wrap both arms around him. “Hi, Star.”
He answers by lifting his face and kissing my cheek. Then my other cheek. Then the corner of my mouth, my jaw, the tip of my nose, quick eager touches that make me laugh harder while I try to catch his face between my hands.
“Theo,” I say, smiling against his mouth when he catches me again. “Baby, breathe.”
He does, but only long enough to rub his cheek against mine and tuck closer. His hair brushes my chin. His hands are in the back of my sweater, fisting carefully, like he's trying to hold on without wrinkling anything too much.
Sloane comes up behind him with my bag in one hand and the expression of a man witnessing a miracle he's very proud of having encouraged. “He has been waiting for that exact sound since three o’clock,” he says, setting my bag on the counter before his hand settles broad and warm at my waist. “Possibly earlier.
I wasn't consulted during the quiet brooding portion.”
Theo turns his face just enough to glare at him from against my shoulder.
Sloane’s mouth softens. “That’s fair. It was private brooding.”
I laugh again, and Sloane leans in over Theo’s shoulder to kiss me.
The kiss is warm, familiar, and brief because Theo makes a small offended sound between us, as if Sloane has stolen something he was still using.
Sloane pulls back with a grin and presses a kiss to Theo’s hair too, his hand moving once over the back of Theo’s neck.
“Excellent taste,” Sloane murmurs. “In bowls, apparently, and in women.”