23. Theo
Theo
The sunroom door opens again, Garrett pausing at the threshold with one hand on the doorframe and his shirtsleeves rolled to his forearms. He takes in the blankets first, then the window bench, then Callie’s papers on the plant stand and me curled against her in the middle of the nest. His expression doesn’t change quickly enough for me to name anything inside it.
“There you are,” he says.
Callie’s hand stills in my hair. Garrett steps into the room as if he has every right to enter, which he does. This is his house too. His blanket is in the nest, tucked under my knee, and when he notices it, his mouth lifts slightly.
“A sunroom nest,” he says. “That’s new.”
My face heats. I start to sit up, but Garrett is already closer, and his hand lands gently on my shoulder before I can scramble out of the shape I made.
“Stay,” he says, not quite a command and not quite a request. His thumb brushes once over the sweatshirt at my shoulder. “You look settled.”
I’m settled. I’m also suddenly aware of Callie beside me, of her clothes fixed but her hair mussed where my hands touched it, of the papers she isn’t reading anymore. Garrett doesn’t look at her like he knows exactly what happened, and he doesn’t need to, because my skin tells too many stories.
“Green?” Callie asks softly.
I look at her first. “Green.”
Garrett’s hand warms on my shoulder. “May I?”
I know what he’s asking. I nod, then say, “Yes.”
He climbs into the nest behind me with more care than I expect from someone his size.
The bench isn’t made for three people, but he makes room by drawing me back against his chest and settling one knee along the edge of the blankets.
His scent folds around me at once, cold mint and polished leather, Alpha and house and authority, and my body relaxes before my mind decides whether it wants to.
Callie watches the shift. Her mouth softens, and that helps.
Garrett’s arm comes around my middle. He draws me back against his chest without breaking the space between me and Callie, and my body settles before my thoughts know what to do with it.
It feels good. That’s the confusing part.
It feels good to have him behind me and Callie in front of me, to have her fingers still near my knee and his hand steady over my stomach.
“This is where you disappeared to,” Garrett purrs near my ear.
I look down at Callie’s cardigan under my hand. “Sorry.”
“No.” His hand presses once, warm and firm. “I’m not scolding you.”
Callie shifts, setting the student paper aside. “He was fine.”
“I can see that.” Garrett’s voice stays mild, but Callie’s fingers move over the edge of the paper in a way that makes me look at her more closely. He notices the papers too, then the cream folder tucked beneath them. “Are those Halston materials?”
The nest changes in a way I feel before I understand.
Callie’s hand stills. Her scent tightens at the edge, pear bruising beneath the vanilla tea, and her eyes flick to me before they return to Garrett.
“Some of them,” she says.
Garrett’s thumb moves slowly over my stomach. “Did they give you a deadline?”
Callie sits a little straighter. “Garrett.”
“It’s only a question.” He keeps his voice calm, almost warm. “They’ll want an answer if they’re building the department schedule around the position.”
My fingers curl in the cardigan.
Callie sees it. Her expression shifts at once, away from Garrett and fully to me. “Theo.”
I try to breathe. The air catches on the way in.
“Position?” I ask.
Garrett’s arm remains steady around me. “The offer I mentioned earlier.”
Callie’s eyes come back to his. “You mentioned it?”
“In conversation,” Garrett says. “He asked what you do. I told him you had an offer under consideration.”
“It’s not decided.” Callie’s voice is gentle when she looks at me again, but there’s something under it I don’t understand. It isn’t guilt. It isn’t exactly fear. It’s discomfort, maybe, because this isn’t where she wanted the conversation to happen. “It’s only an offer.”
Only an offer.
The offer.
Far.
Good for her.
“Halston is far,” I say.
Callie’s mouth parts. She looks at Garrett again, and this time I understand even less.
Garrett doesn’t sound unkind when he answers. “It is. It’s also a good school.”
Callie’s shoulders draw back. “Can we talk about this later?”
“Of course.” Garrett’s hand spreads over my stomach, anchoring me through the soft spike of panic his words have made. “I didn’t mean to put you on the spot.”
The sentence should fix the room, but it doesn’t.
Callie leans closer and sets her hand over mine where I’m gripping the cardigan. “I haven’t decided anything, Star. I promise.”
I nod because she’s looking at me like she needs me to understand, and I want to give her that. I want to be good at this. I want to be the kind of Omega who can hear offer and far and good for her without feeling like the floor is opening.
“Okay,” I say.
Her fingers tighten over mine. “I’m here.”
Right now.
She doesn’t say it this time, but the words are already in me.
Garrett’s cheek brushes lightly against my hair. It isn’t a kiss. It’s close enough that my body settles again, confused and grateful. His voice lowers near my ear, meant for the room but soft enough to feel private.
“These decisions take time,” he says. “No one has to solve them in a sunroom.”
Calliope’s face is careful. “No, they don’t.”
The agreement sounds like an agreement, but it doesn’t feel like one.
Her fingers remain still over mine. I look from Callie to the folder, then to the window where rain slides down the glass in thin, crooked lines. The nest still smells like her. My mouth still remembers her. My body still believes the way she held me and said she liked knowing what I wanted.
But now there’s a version of good that might take her through a door I haven’t seen yet.