Chapter 31
ELOWEN
Millbrook announces itself with a hand-painted wooden sign and a main street that could fit inside Elderwood's quad. The bookshop, Vale & Son, Books New and Used, sits between a bakery and a hardware store, window display crammed with novels stacked in cheerful disorder.
It’s good to get away from campus, away from the constant watching, and listening, and trying to read between the lines of everything every professor says about untraditional pack formations.
Calder parks on a quiet residential street three blocks over. The houses here are modest but well-kept, gardens transitioning to winter rest, porch furniture covered against coming cold.
"That one," Tyler says, pointing to a pale blue house with white trim. "Home."
The front garden is practical rather than ornamental, herbs going to seed, a few late vegetables still clinging to their vines. Someone's been tending it with care despite the season.
The door opens before we reach the porch.
Tyler's mother is smaller than I expected, with dark hair threaded with silver and the same warm hazel eyes as her son. She's wearing jeans and a cardigan, flour dusting one sleeve.
"You must be Elowen." Her smile is immediate, genuine. "I'm Catherine. Come in, please. All of you."
She doesn't wait for formal introductions, just steps aside to let us enter. The house smells like cinnamon and fresh bread.
A girl peeks around the kitchen door, omega with Tyler's coloring but quieter presence.
"My sister, Maya," Tyler says. "Maya, this is Elowen. And you know Calder and Julian."
"Hi." Maya’s eyes linger on me, curiosity without judgment.
The interior is exactly what I expected, books everywhere, comfortable furniture worn smooth with use, family photos covering one wall in mismatched frames. A striped cat watches us from the back of the sofa.
"Thomas is at the shop," Catherine says, heading toward the kitchen. "He'll close up at noon and join us. I hope you're all hungry, I may have overdone it slightly."
The kitchen table is set for seven, steam rising from a kettle, fresh scones cooling on a wire rack.
"Mom always stress-bakes," Maya says, settling into a chair. "Fair warning."
"I do not stress-bake." Catherine pours tea with practiced efficiency. "I bake because I enjoy it."
"You made three different kinds of scones," Tyler points out.
"Well. You're bringing home your omega. It's a special occasion."
We settle around the table with tea and scones that are better than anything Hearth & Honey makes. Catherine asks about my studies, genuine questions, not interrogation. Maya listens more than she speaks, but when she does contribute, it's thoughtful.
"Tyler mentioned you work with herbs."
"Yes. My grandmother taught me. Ayurvedic principles mostly adapted to local plants."
Her eyes light up. "Thomas will want to talk to you about that. He's got a whole section on herbalism at the shop. First editions, some of them."
"He's obsessed," Maya adds. "Spent last month cataloging a collection someone donated."
Tyler's father arrives as we're finishing the first pot of tea. Thomas Vale is tall and lean like his son, with the same easy smile but quiet energy. He shakes hands all around, his grip gentle but firm.
"Elowen. I've heard a great deal about you." He claims the last empty chair. "All good things, I promise."
"Mostly good," Tyler corrects. "I may have mentioned the time she corrected my plant identification, loudly, with witnesses."
"You labeled lovage as celery," I say.
"They look similar!"
"They absolutely don't."
Thomas laughs, a warm, comfortable sound. "I like her already."
The conversation flows easily after that. Catherine shares stories about Tyler growing up. How he brought home every stray animal he found. How he organized a fundraiser for the town library in middle school. How he ran consent workshops for high schoolers before leaving for Elderwood.
"He was always helping people," she says fondly. "Sometimes whether they wanted help or not."
"Mom—"
"It's true, honey." She pats his hand. "You've got a helper's heart. Nothing wrong with that."
Maya watches this with obvious affection for her brother, then catches my eye. "Want to see my room? If that's not weird?"
I glance at Catherine, who nods encouragement. "Go ahead. We'll bore the boys with more stories."
Maya's room is small but carefully arranged, books on a low shelf, a desk by the window, posters of bands I don't recognize. She sits on the bed, gestures for me to take the desk chair.
"Sorry if this is awkward," she says. "I just... I wanted to talk to another omega. Who's not, like, an adult telling me how to be."
"It's not awkward," I assure her. "What do you want to know?"
She pulls her knees up to her chest. "Is it better at Elderwood, than a regular school?"
I consider how to answer honestly. "It's different. More options. Better resources. But also, more complicated in some ways."
"Complicated how?"
"More alphas. More politics. More people watching what you do."
She nods slowly. "How does it work with three alphas? Like, all three. Together."
I think about Calder's steady presence, Tyler's warmth, Julian's careful attention. "We make it work.”
Maya considers this, chin resting on her knees. "The alphas here, they're not bad. Just... limited. Like they learned one way to be and that's it."
"Millbrook doesn't have omega-specific resources?"
"No. I mean, there's Ms. Park at school, she's nice. But mostly it's just regular health class stuff. Be careful, track your cycle, find a good alpha." She makes a face. "My first heat was terrifying because nobody told me anything real."
My chest tightens with recognition. "Mine too. For different reasons, but yeah. Scary."
"Tyler said you managed yours alone. By choice."
"I did. It's hard, but it's possible. And I had help, people I trusted."
She looks up. "Your pack?"
"Yes."
"Do they..." She hesitates. "Sorry if this is too personal. But do they try to control you? Like, even in small ways?"
"No," I say firmly. "They protect. But they don't control. There's a difference."
Maya absorbs this, her expression thoughtful. "I want to apply to Elderwood. When I graduate. But Mom worries about the cost, and Dad thinks maybe I should stay closer to home, and I just..."
"Want to choose for yourself?"
"Yeah."
I lean forward. "Tell them. Your parents seem like they'd listen."
"They would. They're good." She picks at the edge of her sleeve. "I just don't want to disappoint them."
"Choosing your own path isn't a disappointment. It's growth."
She smiles. "Tyler said you were smart. About more than just plants."
"He's biased."
"Maybe. But I think he's right."
When we return to the kitchen, the alphas are helping clean up from lunch. Calder washing dishes, Julian drying, Thomas putting things away while Catherine directs traffic with the ease of long practice.
"Our omega's been giving my sister life advice," Tyler says, looking pleased.
"Good advice, I hope," I reply.
"The best kind," Maya confirms. "The honest kind."
Catherine catches my eye, something warm and knowing in her expression. "Walk with me? I want to show you the bookshop before we lose the light."
The afternoon is crisp but not uncomfortable as we make our way down Millbrook's main street. Catherine tucks her hands into her jacket pockets.
"Thomas is dying to show you his collection," she says. "But I wanted a few minutes first. Mother to potential daughter-in-law."
My breath catches slightly at the phrasing.
She notices, smiles. "Too forward? Sorry. Occupational hazard, I'm a hospice nurse. We learn to say important things while there's still time."
"It's not too forward," I manage. "Just... unexpected."
"Tyler's talked about you since September. The way he talks..." She glances at me. "I knew it was serious."
We walk in comfortable silence for half a block.
"I'm not going to ask if you love my son," Catherine says finally. "I can see you do. What I want to know is: are you happy?"
"Yes," I say, chest swelling. "Completely."
She pauses outside the bakery window, studying the display. She nods once, decided. "Then that's all I need to know."
The bookshop smells like old paper and dust and something indefinably comforting. Thomas is already inside, having slipped away while we talked. He's at the back counter, pulling books from a special shelf.
"First editions," he says without preamble, setting them gently on the counter. "British Isles herbalism, mostly. Thought you might appreciate these."
I step closer, careful with my touch. The books are beautiful, worn but cared for, illustrations hand-colored in some cases.
"These are incredible."
"They're yours if you want them. Consider it a welcome gift."
"I couldn't—"
"You could." His smile is gentle. "And you should. They're meant to be used, not collected."
Catherine appears beside me, hand resting briefly on my shoulder. "He's been waiting weeks to give those to you. Don't break his heart by refusing."
We spend the afternoon in the shop, browsing shelves and talking in the comfortable way of people who share interests. The cat, called Austen, apparently, winds between our legs, purring approval.
Maya joins us after an hour, carrying a biology textbook. "Studying," she announces. "Since everyone else gets to have the fun conversation."
"Pull up a chair," Thomas says. "We're discussing the intersection of botanical illustration and medical accuracy in Victorian texts."
"Oh good. My favorite." But she settles in anyway, listening more than contributing, soaking up the easy academic exchange.
At some point I realize Calder and Julian have gravitated toward the history section, speaking quietly about something. Tyler's with his mother near the poetry shelves, her hand on his arm as they talk.
This is what family looks like, I think.