Chapter 20 - Caleb
Weeks go by with a tender steadiness I’m not used to. That peace settles something unfamiliar in me.
Having Lila and Astrid under the same roof, within my reach and my protection, makes everything in me settle. It makes me want soft, normal things. Things I’m not sure I deserve, but will do anything to have and to keep.
What matters more than what I deserve is keeping them safe, and for the first time in my life, that means something deeper than some general pack-bound responsibility. Now, I have two faces keeping me accountable, both looking to me for that safety.
Most days, I wake up earlier than both of them to get everything ready.
Breakfast for everyone, coffee for Lila and me, and I keep Astrid occupied so that her mom can sleep in a little longer.
It’s instinctive now for me to check for any unfamiliar scents in the air, or for anything off about the woods.
Ever since the Wraith Peak wolves targeted the two of them so close to town, my senses have become tuned.
But more times than not, I just catch Lila’s scent drifting softly from the bedroom as she stirs for the day.
Some mornings, Astrid pads into the kitchen silently, eyes bleary, while she tries to wake up.
She climbs into one of the chairs without a word, and each time she slowly starts filling the room with her aimless streams of consciousness, sharing those thoughts with me, something almost hollow in my chest fills a little more.
I don’t question it anymore. Instead, I tell myself it’s because she matters to Lila, and because protecting them is my first priority now.
But sometimes, my thoughts slip, and I feel a fierce swell of something almost fatherly. Something paternal that I’ve never experienced before.
I shut it down every time. There’s no point in leaning into that curiosity and confusion. Not now, at least.
Things are going well, and I don’t want to disturb something that feels right.
It’s the Summer Solstice, which means pack members have been busy all day in preparation for our usual cookout. It’s one of the few celebrations we hold openly, though many humans don’t celebrate it as we do anyway. To them, it just looks like a friendly community gathering to celebrate the season.
I keep Lila close as we approach the park meadow, where many of the members have already started playing games and serving food. The sun sits low in the sky, and the air is still warm but not sweltering.
Lila’s steps are stiff and cautious while Astrid walks just ahead, already taking it all in.
She’s wearing a simple blue sundress, but it sits so perfectly around her waist and hips before draping over the rest of her. Each time the breeze lightly lifts the hem, the movement catches my eye and hooks me in immediately—just like everything else she does.
“You don’t have to hover tonight,” she murmurs to me, hardly looking at the others while we draw closer.
“I’m not hovering.”
But we both know it’s a lie.
Lila glances at me with a look that says she knows better than to believe me, but I don’t care. She’s my mate, and I’m not moving any farther away from her than necessary.
As we enter the clearing, conversations quiet down just enough for me to notice before they pick back up.
Pack members give us respectful nods, some more enthusiastic than others.
I know a lot of them are trying to look past the quick way our bond was initiated and the weakness they smell on her, but it’s also something that takes time.
They try to hide it, but I can still feel their lingering doubt.
Lila stiffens, almost like it pains her just to be observed by them, and it’s enough to send a faint tremor through our connection.
It’s habitual for her to want to shrink back, but I can still feel her fighting it, like something in her wants to stand tall. So, she straightens her shoulders and keeps her chin up anyway, even if I can feel the shaky foundation keeping her strength up.
She shouldn’t have to fight. Not when I’m here.
Resting my hand against the small of her back is a reminder, but not a forceful one. Just enough for her to feel that I’m with her, and regardless of what any of them think, she’s mine. She’s protected.
The others notice and, without any prompting, return to their conversations.
Astrid’s eyes light up when she sees some of the kids running and playing tag together, almost like something in her is pulling her closer.
“Do you want to join them?” I ask.
At that, she pulls back a bit, suddenly looking shy as she lingers between Lila and me. She reaches for her mother’s dress. That hesitation doesn’t go unnoticed by me.
My brows furrow slightly, and the moment I see Lila’s face, I catch her uneasiness too. Then I know right away. Astrid doesn’t usually get to play with others, and she doesn’t know how to approach it.
My heart lurches at that, and I carefully ease myself down to Astrid’s level. I give her an encouraging smile.
“You should ask to join. I’m sure they’d love to play with you.”
At that, a spark of hope moves through her eyes, but that uncertainty lingers. “You’re sure? Mama doesn’t let me play with them.”
Immediately, guilt settles on Lila’s shoulders, and after a moment of consideration, she puts a hand on her back.
“Caleb’s right, sweetheart. It doesn’t hurt to try.”
With that gentle nudge, a small, tentative smile spreads across her lips, and with renewed wind in her sails, Astrid nods and draws closer.
We both watch as she approaches the other kids, and without missing a beat, a little girl pauses and meets her halfway.
They look at each other, then the girl sticks out a yellow glow stick in offering with a grin.
When Astrid accepts it and waves it around, watching how the bright color streaks in the dim light, they both giggle before joining the others.
Warmth stirs in my chest at the sight of the little one running and playing tag, looking as carefree as usual, but this time, not in isolation.
Glancing at Lila, I catch the subtle flood of tears in her eyes, along with her soft smile as she takes in the rare scene.
Something dislodges in my heart, and I soften.
“I never wanted to keep her away from the other kids,” Lila admits quietly as she rubs beneath her eye subtly before the tears can slip. “But I was afraid they’d see…”
Well aware of what she means, I return my hand to her back and gently brush my thumb over the fabric of her dress. “You’re not wrong for being concerned.”
“I just… I didn’t want her to grow up as I did, but I’ve sheltered her all the same.”
“You did what you felt was right,” I offer gently. “… But maybe there will come a time when she won’t need to be kept from the others.”
Something close to hope reflects in her eyes, but that slowly fizzles out right after. “If only.”
Seeing her so disillusioned by the pack and our customs turns my stomach, and it makes me want to prove otherwise. But as things currently stand, I don’t know how we can achieve that.
For the time being, nobody can know about Astrid’s powers. It would cause an uproar, especially with the more traditional members.
Maybe it’s wishful thinking, but keeping her on the outside because of something she can’t change isn’t right, and I know it.
Before I can even attempt to make Lila feel better about it all, a couple of pack members approach to offer their greetings, more so out of respect for me, but I know some of them are still curious about her.
She handles it with stiff politeness, and they move on quickly enough.
It takes great effort to ignore the way their eyes linger on her, some questioning and some just curious. Every part of me wants to bare my teeth and cause a scene, but I can’t. Not while there are some humans around, and it’s meant to be a day of celebration and unity, not chaos.
So I rein it in.
Eventually, Astrid regroups with us with splotched cheeks and heavy, content breaths from playing. She holds up a small bunch of flowers in her hand and beams at us, clearly picked from the grass.
“I picked these for you,” she says, beyond proud of herself as she hands some to Lila, then the rest to me.
Her little fingers brush against mine, and that tenderness pulls at my heart all over again. It’s startlingly warm, but normal, like this isn’t out of the question for me.
“Thank you, Astrid,” I return with a grin, admiring the flowers in front of her. “These are the nicest flowers I’ve ever received.”
Her expression turns bashful, then she giggles and runs off again, welcomed eagerly by the other kids.
When I look at Lila, her eyes are already soft, then she looks away, shaking it off.
The early evening stretches on in a strange tangle of domesticity and lingering tension. We talk to a few couples, keeping things light and avoiding pack-related matters for the time being, but my attention never fully leaves Astrid’s joy as she plays, or Lila while she stays nearby.
Eventually, she murmurs, “You’re keeping close tonight.”
“I always will,” I say honestly, gazing down at her from where we linger by the meadow. “Whether you want me to or not.”
She seems conflicted for a moment, but she doesn’t return with outright rejection. Instead, she just takes a breath and averts her gaze. She’s putting on a brave face for the event, but I know it’s wearing her down.
Taking a small step closer, every instinct in me is shouting to ease that tension for her. To test the boundary.
Luckily, she doesn’t step back.
“Lila,” I murmur, using my careful hold on her back to guide her closer to me, tucking her against my side.
I give her every chance to pull away, but almost like she can’t stop herself from relying on my proximity, she goes with it.
My fingers shift, brushing against her waist as that familiar need settles in my gut, even if I need to ignore it for the time being. Her shaky inhale only doubles it.
“You’re making this hard,” she whispers, unsteady while she looks up at me, looking small and perfectly mine while in my hold.
“Good,” I hum, reaching down with my other hand to brush a finger along her cheek, keeping her attention on me. “Maybe you’ll stop trying to push me away then.”
She swallows hard. “I have every reason to.”
“I know,” I tell her, lightly cupping her jaw. “But I’m still not going anywhere.”
Lila’s pulse jumps beneath my touch, and despite all of her usual refusal, her eyes soften while holding mine.
Bond or not, the air between us is charged, full of silent want.
She caves first, surging up to press her lips against mine.
It’s deeper than I expected at first, but as she melts into it, I hold her tighter against me with an arm while my thumb brushes along her cheek.
I kiss her back eagerly, but with enough restraint to keep things appropriate, catching the subtle hum from her that drives me insane.
She tastes like everything I’ve ever needed, and everything I never thought I’d have again.
Forcing myself to pull back before I can get ahead of myself, I break the kiss and lightly rest my forehead against hers. I study her features in quiet awe.
“This doesn’t fix everything,” Lila whispers, slightly out of breath.
“I don’t need everything to be fixed,” I say back, voice rougher with restraint. “I just need you here, safe and with me.”
Her gaze eases into something more receptive, and she doesn’t pull away.
Not tonight.