28. Calliope
Calliope
The book festival is fantastic. We visit every stall, and Bax enjoys himself as much as I do.
Whenever I find a book that interests me, I flip it over to check the price.
But quick as lightning, Bax snatches it from my hands and holds onto it until I finish browsing.
He then pays for the, sometimes small—often large—stack of books he collects from me.
Occasionally, I notice him taking out a small notebook and jotting down something.
When I ask him what it is, he simply replies, "Research," and doesn't elaborate.
I do my best not to think of the cost like he's asked, but some of those are sprayed-edged, special edition covers, goddammit. I tried to reason with him, to at least tell me when we spent a certain amount of money. But he won't have it. I push it aside. I need to trust him and let him lead.
Finally, we arrive at the author-signing events, and I'm excited to see several of my favorite authors.
They're all incredibly kind, even though I think I act like a crazy fangirl.
The last signature I get is from Lisa Bowl, and it's the one I've been looking forward to the most. When I mention that I'm a librarian, she asks for my card to arrange a book signing event at my library. I couldn't be happier!
I skip and squeal all the way back to the car, gushing about everyone we met and the books we found. Bax has a wide grin on his face.
He effortlessly carries all the bags. Winking at me, he asks, "What are you thinking about?"
"I was thinking you would make an excellent library page. I can barely lift four books at a time before my arms feel like noodles."
I cringe a little at a thought that pops into my head.
Nick called me lazy because I wanted to read at night, and he thought we should go to the gym.
Bax must catch the look because he asks what's wrong.
I say it's nothing. He wraps the book bags in a tarp in his trunk bed and comes around to help me.
I believe that's the end of the conversation, but when he gets in the truck, instead of driving away, he starts the engine to warm it up and looks at me. "What was that look earlier?" His tone isn't accusatory. If anything, it's concerned.
"It was something my ex said about my reading habits that popped into my head.
" I cringe. Bringing up an ex on a date feels rude, and I don't want to think about or discuss him.
This will be the second date he's come up on.
He'd been a constant presence in my life for years, and silencing that voice, even when he isn't around, is more complicated than it seems. Nick's faded since I started being courted by the pack, but he still lingers in my thoughts.
Ready to pop out at any moment with some snide remark about myself.
Bax only nods, looking thoughtful. "From what you've said, it seems your ex didn't appreciate your reading habits," he says lightly. I try to hold it back, I really try, but it's like word vomit. Once it starts, I can't stop.
"Reading was just the beginning. He always made me feel lazy and stupid for indulging in fiction, or listening to audiobooks. It was like he loved tearing me down, criticizing everything I did. How I did the dishes, took out the trash, and even how I breathed at night. It was infuriating.
"I attempted to mold myself into what he wanted, thinking if I fixed one thing, maybe he'd finally be satisfied.
But he never stopped. He would just latch onto something else.
When angry, he'd storm around, clearing my books from the shelves and tossing them to the ground, knowing how much they meant to me.
He'd never take me to places like this, and if he did, he would have made sure I didn't buy anything because, in his eyes, I already had too many.
" The thought of him looms over me like a dark cloud, threatening to ruin what should be a beautiful day with Bax.
I don't want to let Nick invade my thoughts today, but damn, it's hard to shake off those memories.
He'd call me names like "bitch" for not wanting to have a house party.
We're close to thirty, which seemed ridiculous and exhausting.
Then, less than five minutes later, when I'd ask for an apology, he'd claim he'd never said those things.
It was awful because he had just said them moments before.
That was the worst part. When I was told that what I heard or saw never happened.
Even though I knew it did, it made me feel afraid and unstable in a way that nothing else could.
Bax's expression is pure understanding, and I can't stop myself from breaking down.
Tears slip down my face, and I try to hide them in my hands.
He scoops me into his arms, where I curl up and sob into his shoulder.
I feel safe, but I also feel horrible. I'm not crying for another man.
I'm crying for the pieces of me that were broken by that other man, that I can never give to this pack.
This pack who cares for me so much better than anyone else ever has.
I try to explain everything through tears and snuffles, and Bax listens the entire time.
He never stops rubbing my back and gently nuzzling the top of my head with his cheek.
His purr is so loud that I'm surprised passersby don't stop to stare.
Once I finally calm down, he takes my face in both hands, leans in, and kisses me so gently yet thoroughly that I forget I'm even in a truck.
At that moment, I suddenly wish we were at my house, his house, or anywhere private.
"The parts of you that you believe are broken are still beautiful and perfect, and they're the pieces I want.
They're not damaged, Raindrop, they've transformed into something new that we can't wait to explore together.
I don't want you to hold back because you think we can't discuss exes on a date.
We can discuss anything we want, whenever we want.
I want to know all of you, including your past. Thank you for sharing that with me," he says.
I pull him down and kiss him again. He smiles as we pull away.
"I'm trying not to cry again, and you're making it really difficult," I tell him, aiming for a teasing tone, though it's hard through the hiccups.
Bax's fingers push a stray hair out of my face. "You cry all you need to, Raindrop. Like I said, I want everything you have to offer, including your tears."
Once I calm down, he leans over and opens the glove box. Inside is a green box about the size of a book with a brown silk bow tied expertly around it.
"I cheated a little," he admits. "I found your account on omegareads.com and looked through your wishlist." Omegareads is my favorite social media platform.
It tracks your current reading, challenges, and new book announcements and features the latest merchandise popular with readers, especially omegas.
"You looked up my account? That's so considerate." Bax's face shifts from nervous to relieved in seconds. Something is comforting in his worry over me and our date. It proves he's invested in this just as much as I am, in a way words never can.
I gently tug on the bow and lift the lid off the box.
Inside is a special, signed edition, omnibus of my favorite three-part series.
The cover is made of leather and adorned with foiled lettering and designs.
The edges feature a watercolor painting of a beautiful scene from the book.
My hands tremble as I open the book to discover the author's illustrations of key scenes within.
On the cover page is a signature, but it's more than just a name. It's a heartfelt note that reads:
"To the librarian of the Lakeside Point Public Library, Calliope Robins. Thank you for all your hard work. Without your dedication, there would be no me. Ali Williams."
For what feels like the millionth time today, tears prick the corners of my eyes.
The Ali Williams series is my go-to comfort read.
It got me through my worst times. When my designation came in.
During that tumultuous conversation where Mom informed me that pack life was unacceptable in my family.
Finding out that Nick was cheating. I'd just read the whole series last month when I was moving.
I don't even know how many times I've read it.
My copy in my nest is battered, and some pages are ripped.
I set the book on the dashboard and throw my arms around Bax's neck. He wraps his arms around me and squeezes me back. His purr rumbles up his chest, and I pull back enough to look at him. I tip my head up and graze my lips against his. His purr turns into a groan as he deepens the kiss.
His tongue sweeps in, and his right hand comes up to cup my face while his left curves around to my lower back so he can squeeze me closer.
I raise myself up to straddle across his lap.
His hard length strains through his jeans, resting under my core.
He deliciously bites at my bottom lip, sending a shock of pleasure straight to my core.
A car door next to us slams shut, and we startle apart.
When I look back at Bax, his pupils are fully dilated, an intoxicating mix of desire and restraint flickering in his gaze.
His breathing comes in uneven gasps, a primal rhythm that ignites something wild within me.
Was he on the edge of a rut? I recall the tales of alphas losing themselves to the overwhelming urge to claim their scent-sensitive mates, their instincts taking the reins as desire surges like a tidal wave.
Bax shakes his head as if trying to banish the overwhelming need that hangs in the air between us.
When our eyes lock again, the storm of emotions fades momentarily, leaving behind the rich, molten brown that always draws me in.
But I can still feel the electricity crackling between us, a promise of what could unfold if he let go.
"I'll take you back," he says before untangling his body from mine and resuming his place behind the wheel.
"I-I've never seen your room," I start a little hesitantly. He looks over to me, a hopeful gleam in his eye.
"That's true. Would you like to see my room today, Cali?" he asks. I nod, and his smile is quick and sincere as he starts the engine.