13. Elowen
ELOWEN
Rain patters against the window, soft and steady. October rain, the kind that settles in for hours.
The sound pulls me from sleep slowly, body heavy with exhaustion that goes deeper than muscle. My thighs ache. My lower back is tight. My jaw feels tender from clenching through waves that still echo faintly in memory.
But the heat is gone.
Lying still, listening to the rain, the soreness becomes manageable. Aftermath. The cost of choosing awareness over ease.
Worth it.
Careful movements bring me upright, legs swinging over the side of the bed. The floor is cool beneath my feet, grounding, real. The room smells like me again. Not the thick sweetness of heat-scent, but chamomile and clean linen and the faint herbal tang that clings to everything.
The three notes are on my desk. My fingers trace the folded edges.
Calder's neat script. Tyler's easy scrawl. Julian's precise lettering.
You were right. You didn't need us inside. But we needed to be close.
Lila said you're a badass. She's not wrong. Rest as long as you need.
Heat duration: 18 hours, 23 minutes. Well within normal parameters. Your autonomy throughout was noted and respected.
Reading them again in the gray morning light, rain streaking the glass behind, I smile to myself.
The chamomile has grown. Bright green leaves unfurling from the pot, reaching toward what little light breaks through the clouds. The tulsi has germinated. Tiny shoots breaking through the surface, dark green and determined. Asha's legacy, growing in soil chosen for it.
The knock comes mid-morning.
Lila, holding a thermos and paper bag, rain-dampened hair escaping her bun in wild curls.
"You survived," she says. "Now we debrief."
Despite everything, a smile threatens. "Do we?"
"We do." She slips past me and into the room, already claiming the floor like she owns it. Cross-legged on the rug, thermos and bag between us when I join her. "I brought tea. Real tea, not the cafeteria swill. And pastries, because… sugar."
The scent rises from the metal cup—rooibos and vanilla, warming from the inside.
"So," Lila says, watching me over the rim of her cup. "How was it?"
No preamble. No dancing around it.
"Hard. Harder than expected."
Her dark eyes soften. "My first heat, sixteen and terrified, I slept through the whole thing." A shrug. "Woke up three days later with no memory and a splitting headache."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be. It was the right choice for me then." She tears off a piece of pastry, offers half.
Memories surface. The waves. The ache. Already muting in daylight. "Ask me how I feel again tomorrow," I say.
"The alphas," Lila says eventually. "They stayed outside the whole time. It's not normal, you know. Most alphas would've pushed harder to be let in. Especially three of them. The instinct…" She pauses. "It's loud during an omega's heat. Louder for them than it is for us."
"I’m proud of them."
"So," Lila says, swallowing a mouthful of pastry. “What are you going to do about it?" Her eyebrows slide upward and disappear into her hair.
"I don't know." It’s almost true.
"You want to know what I think.” She doesn’t wait for me to answer. “You already know what you want. And wanting it is scarier than not knowing."
She’s at the door before I can speak.
"Get some rest," she says. "And when you're ready to talk about it, I'm next door."
The walk to the greenhouse feels longer in the rain.
My hood is up against the drizzle that settled in around lunchtime. The air is sharp with October cold, the path slippery. I’ve missed lectures, but this feels more urgent.
Reaching the greenhouse, I pause outside, my hand on the door, pulse racing.
Have we changed in ways that can't be undone?
Only one way to find out.
Heat spills out, but the greenhouse is empty. Everything is exactly as I left it, what feels like an eternity ago.
No, not exactly.
There's another bench. Small, simple, built from reclaimed wood and sanded smooth. Positioned near the workspace, angled so whoever sits can see both the plants and the path beyond the glass.
Calder's work. Solid. Built to last.
My throat tightens.
Juniper appears from beneath a shelf, tail high. She winds once around my ankles then leaps onto the bench. Her purr is a low rumble, steady and unbothered.
"You approve, huh?"
She sits, regal, eyes blinking closed while upright.
One moment, I’m alone with Juniper and my thoughts, rain drumming on glass, the next Calder stands in the doorway, rain-dampened and still wearing a dark jacket over his usual henley, droplets caught in his hair.
Gray eyes find mine across the greenhouse, searching, uncertain in a way never seen from him before.
"Can I stay?" he asks.
"Yes." I watch him step inside, hang his jacket on a hook, and move to the far workbench.
The air is different from before, charged, connected through my heat.
"Thank you," I say finally, wanting him to look at me. "For the bench."
He pauses, doesn't turn. "You needed somewhere to sit while you work."
"It's perfect." A beat of silence. "For the notes too."
His hands still. "You scared me," so quiet I almost miss it.
My breath catches.
He turns then, gray eyes steady despite the vulnerability in his voice. "Hearing you through that door. Knowing you were…" He pauses. "You were right to choose it. But it scared me."
It takes all my willpower not to go to him and fold him into my arms.
"I'm not going anywhere, Elowen. Whatever you decide, whenever you're ready, I'll be here."
"I know."
Tyler arrives as the rain tapers to mist.
He pushes through the door with two paper cups and that easy grin. "Room for one more?" He sees Calder across the space, and his smile shifts. "Or two, apparently." He glances at the cups. “Here, take mine.”
"There's room." Calder smiles. “Keep the tea, I’m a coffee kind of guy.”
Something has shifted between them too. A camaraderie that wasn’t so clear before. I guess that’s what happens when you share an omega’s heat from a distance.
Tyler hands over a cup. "Thought you might need this. Good stuff from town, not campus sludge."
The scent rises, honey and chamomile, exactly what I would've chosen.
"You remembered."
"I pay attention." He sits down on an upturned crate, comfortable in his own space. "Lila says you're a legend."
"Lila exaggerates." I sip the tea.
"She said you’d say that."
The door opens again, and Julian steps through, adjusting his jacket, hair fuzzy from the mist. He takes in the scene—bench, crate, far table—and recognition flickers across his expression.
"Synchronized timing or coincidence?" he deadpans.
"Bit of both," Tyler says, grinning.
Julian moves to the temperature controls and adjusts them slightly. "Actually, statistically, first heats managed alone with that degree of autonomy are quite rare. Approximately eight percent of omegas choose that route. Fewer maintain awareness throughout."
Calder's voice, dry: "Stop cataloging her."
"I'm complimenting her."
Despite everything, the exhaustion, the aftermath, the weight of processing, I laugh.
The sound surprises everyone.
Then Tyler grins wider. Julian's mouth quirks. Calder's shoulders ease slightly, warmth entering his expression.
“I brought some wild sorrel too.” Julian pulls a tiny transparent bag filled with dark green leaves from his pocket and holds it up for all to see. “It can often be confused with the leaves of other less-edible plants, but I’m pleased to confirm that I got it right on my second attempt.”
“What happened on your first attempt?” Tyler asks.
“It left a rather nasty taste on my tongue.”
I laugh again. I feel it building up inside me, mild hysteria fueled by relief mixed up with a healthy dose of pride and contentment. I’ve never felt it before, and I’m not sure even Grandma could grow something that would produce the same results.
“I’m more concerned that you’re walking around with a packet of leaves in your possession,” Calder deadpans, and we all stare at it.
“Well,” Julian says, “it could hardly be mistaken for something illegal.”
“You sound certain about that.” Tyler cocks his head to one side.
It takes a few beats for the inference to sink in and then Julian’s cheeks turn pink while the rest of us laugh.
“I’ve seen pictures of illegal substances in books,” Julian says. “Of course I have. Who hasn’t?”
“Me.” Calder’s expression is completely neutral.
“Nor me.” Tyler raises a hand like he’s in a classroom.
Julian looks at me for backup, and I suck my lips in and shake my head.
“You’re all lying,” he says, straight-faced. “And I shall remember not to rely on you all to be character witnesses should I ever appear in court.”
“Dude, as the chances of you committing a crime are less than zero,” Tyler says, “I think you’re safe.”
“Less than zero would be a negative, which would mean the crime would happen to me.” Julian purses his lips, pensive. “Or—”
“We were only joking,” I go to him, take the packet of sorrel leaves, and pop one into my mouth. The apple tartness explodes almost immediately. “This is the best gift ever.”
Julian’s smile is so wide I can see his back teeth.
“The bar is set,” Calder says.
“May the best alpha win.” Tyler winks at me.