Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Rory

It had to be hard. It had to be impossible. All that change must have been tying Callisto up in knots on the inside. On the outside, she tried to maintain order.

She held it together when Sophia left, heading back to Yellowstone in their car.

She still got up early and helped get Fraiser and the girls ready and off to school. She pounded fence posts for hours during the day—alone—and then she returned at the end of the day, tired, but never too tired to watch the girls for the rest of the evening. She helped with dinner. She got the twins ready for bed. She cleaned. She cooked meals for herself. She'd started to teach them how to sign. Fraiser picked it up fast. The girls thought it was a big game, but they were learning too. Only he felt like he was trudging along with it, impossibly thick and slow. Rory never thought that his hands could fail him, but as he used them to try and make a language, he was shown glaring new deficiencies in what they were capable of.

At least he knew how to spell. When all else failed, he fell back on that.

Callisto relied on her notebook. She had a stack of them and endless packages of pens. She was never frustrated with any of them. Ever. At least, if she was, she didn't show it. Rory wondered about getting her a tablet, something she could program into being her voice. Though he knew that would make things easier for him. He had to make a better effort at being able to communicate with her in her language, so he threw himself and his clumsy hands into practicing more.

Most people in Greenacre didn't yet know about the real reason Callisto had come to Greenacre which was why she was still digging holes and not teaching. Sam informed Nelson because he was his beta, but beyond Taylee and Clay, Pinefall's past remained a dark secret. It was obvious why that was, even if Rory didn't know what Sam had discussed with Clarence or what he'd promised.

A few days after Sophia left, Rory was brave enough to ask Callisto about what happened at the meeting with her parents. She'd outlined for him, on paper, the bare details, but none of her feelings about it except for the few things she'd made clear—Pinefall stopped the practice of harming or giving away babies twenty years before and she no longer wanted revenge on her parents. But she wasn't sure she wanted anything else either, she didn't know if she ever would. It wasn't like her proximity to them made them a family.

She didn't blame her siblings, who knew nothing about any of it—there were many people in Pinefall who didn't know, given how secretive the clan was even with its own members. Unless they were in the situation themselves and were paid a visit by their alpha and the clan's physician or midwife at the time, they probably wouldn't have been involved. Many times, when a baby was given away or—or worse—the midwife would say that the child had died in birth. Shifter births were risky and difficult. It wasn't an outcome anyone questioned. Maybe the older generation knew more than they let on, but most people Clay and Taylee and Jem's age had no idea.

Lastly, they'd agreed to keep their family relation a secret until later. That was her wish and anyone who knew otherwise had agreed to respect it.

That worried Rory, but slowly, Callisto started to integrate into the community. As the summer came to an end, it seemed that most people were used to seeing her walk Fraiser and the girls to school, which she'd started doing every morning after Sophia left, before going out to dig holes and erect fence posts. After she'd completed the holes, she'd been entrusted with the posts as well, Rory hoped that come winter, even if the community still didn't know of her history, they would trust her enough to allow her in properly and she could start teaching at the school.

They'd received invitations to Clay and Elowen's house and Sebastian and Stephanie's too, because Sebastian was Clay's best friend. Whether he suspected there was more to Callisto when it came to Clay and Taylee than they let on, he'd not revealed, but if Clay was opening his house up, then so would he. Rory suspected that Sebastian probably had a good idea about what had gone down, if not the full story. While the sarcastic wolf had fully integrated into Greenacre and everyone loved him, he was still a sneaky fucker who could read people like a book even if Clay hadn't taken him into his confidence.

As well as the home invitations, Taylee also came to give Callisto art lessons in the evenings, after the girls were in bed. They'd invited Rory to join them, but he'd always felt that should be their private time.

All summer long, he still slept on the couch. It might be doing terrible things to his back, but he was a shifter and after a few stretches before getting started in the shop, he was just fine. He'd considered asking Sam about moving to one of the bigger cabins—when the twins got older the apartment would be pretty cramped—or possibly even building onto his shop, but for the time being, the set up was working okay. In all this time, he never tried to touch Callisto. Never once did he broach that conversation. She was trying incredibly hard to deal with a lot of change in a very short amount of time. She was slowly making friends, she was falling into the role of being a mother. She worked hard during the day at a physically demanding job. She was teaching them a new language. She was learning how to be alone, without Sophia at her side as her friend and her voice, though he knew she texted her often. Everything must have been okay in Yellowstone, because he knew Callisto wouldn't hesitate to leave if it hadn't been.

He just didn't know if she'd come back, or how long she'd stay away.

He knew that she was secretly thrilled at getting to know Clay and Taylee, although it was harder to do that with Jem, because he was in Pinefall, but the four of them did sometimes drive out to neutral spots like they had for that first meeting and sometimes, at dinners at Clay's or Taylee's, Jem was there. It was an obvious fact that Callisto had long ago fallen in love with the twins and that she found it easy to get along with Fraiser. The anguish, bitterness, and friction she felt towards the rest of Greenacre had melted away.

Rory spent a lot of time thinking about it all and he was sure all of those things were true.

There was just one person he had no idea what Callisto might feel about or for.

Himself.

He was running through the possibilities, the rights and wrongs of trying to have a conversation about it, going back through his memories for subtle or overt signs that might have given anything away, but all he was doing in his little home office, that was too small for a bed and barely big enough for a desk and chair, was giving himself a headache.

He'd been at it for some time too, because Taylee was there giving Callisto her weekly art lesson. The days sometimes alternated, depending on Taylee's schedule. This one happened later, since it was a Thursday and Taylee was busy until nine. It was never too late, and Callisto was never too tired. It wasn't just an art lesson. It was about time with her sister. Rory saw that as sacred. Callisto lit up subtly, but it was there, every time she walked into a dinner they'd been invited to, or whenever Taylee came over.

Rory wished he could do something to make Callisto look at him that way. Didn't he? Was it even right that he wanted that? Not the way she looked at family, obviously, but he wished he could bring a light to her eyes and a softness to her whole posture. He wished that she'd look at him and feel safe and warm. Warm and a different kind of warm.

Should he do something romantic? Maybe she was waiting for him to make that gesture.

Would she scorn at more wildflowers? Another lunch out somewhere? A picnic? Jesus, it all felt so juvenile. He wasn't afraid of rejection. He was afraid of stepping on her toes and crushing her boundaries, making her uncomfortable and wrecking the relative peace that had grown between them.

He dug his fingers into his eyes. They were burning because he'd been staring at nothing for far too long. His desk was pretty much empty. He'd come here to give the women privacy, not because he had anything much to work on. His temples throbbed and he massaged them too.

He needed to get out. Go for a run. It had been too long since he'd given the bear his head. Too long since there was a clan run. He was out of sync with his bear, which was never a good thing. Maybe that accounted for most of the strain he felt.

No. That wasn't true, and he knew it.

The cycle in his head looped over and he groaned softly. He arranged his elbows on the desk and laid his head down on them, shutting his eyes, but it was all still there. The blackness didn't just shut it off.

He stayed like that for a few minutes, until there was a quiet knock at the door. His head jerked up. "Come in?" He coughed when that sounded like a question, but the door opened anyway.

Callisto stepped into the small room. That was new. She didn't come and get him when her art lessons were over. He usually heard Taylee saying goodbye and the door closing.

"Do you need something?"

Callisto shook her head.

"Is Taylee still here?" He hadn't heard anything.

She shook her head again. Hesitant. Uncomfortable. Ugh, what kind of asshole was he starting a conversation off with do you need something? Not that it was said roughly or meanly. But still. What a dolt and so much for romance.

She started to sign something, but when she saw he wasn't tracking, she stopped.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, going red again. How ridiculous he was. Flowers? Trying getting better at the basics. Step one. Communication. "I'm so slow at learning. It's taking me forever."

She put up a hand and left. He sat there, hard pressed not to smack his forehead straight into the desk's hard surface. It might be an improvement. Callisto entered the office again, shutting the door behind her. She had her notebook. She seemed almost hesitant when she looked at him, a full-on scorching look that twisted him up. He pressed his lips together, certain if he said anything, he'd start stammering. He'd never get used to being looked at the way she looked at him.

DO YOU LIKE SLEEPING ON THE COUCH?

Dear god. Was that a loaded question? He started to sweat, or at least it felt like that. He was rubbish at being put on the spot. "Not particularly, but it's alright. I've gotten pretty used to it now."

His pulse started to thrum wildly while he watched her write. She took her time, forming each word with a slow patience that was killing him. It was so different from her regular hurried scrawl.

WOULD YOU LIKE TO TRADE PLACES?

"Oh." He rubbed a hand over his jaw. He was bristly. He only shaved in the mornings, but when you had Scottish ancestors and were half bear, things got busy towards the end of the night. "Oh, no. Uh- that's fine. Thank you, I'm quite comfortable."

WHAT IF WE SHARED IT?

Holy god, he was going to fall over. He stood up too sharply and the room spun. He backed around, edging himself up against the desk. "Oh." Right. She couldn't possibly know what that meant. Did he even? Oh wasn't cutting it. "You mean, sleep in it with a pillow wall between us?"

Her eyes danced. She seemed to find him amusing, which didn't hurt his feelings in the least.

MAYBE WITHOUT THE PILLOW WALL.

"But platonically?" He should just stick to the couch. It would be easier than making a grand fool out of himself.

Callisto moved like water flowing over rocks. She was all liquid smooth as she swept past him and set the notebook on his desk. She laid the pen down on it. It was one of the first times he could remember seeing her shy and girlish. She shook her head.

Why had she set down the notebook? Didn't that deserve an explanation?

She moved swiftly, taking him by the shoulders. She leaned against him, and when he still didn't get what was happening and stood there frozen, she took his face and pulled him down. The kiss wasn't gentle. It wasn't a sweet invitation to come share a bed with pillows in between because it's more comfortable than the couch and we've graduated to being comfortable and mature enough to handle that.

That kiss, which made him grunt in surprise and then groan in something else entirely, was more along the lines of come share a bed because I want you to fuck me into the mattress.

Her teeth sunk into his lower lip, and yeah, it was definitely the latter. He wasn't making too much out of a single kiss. She ran her tongue along the small wound. She pointed at the desk. He didn't get it. He was still processing the monumental offer, what that bed meant, what it meant for them. He was pretty much frozen every other way.

She patted the desk and made a sweeping motion with her hand, even though the surface was empty except for her notebook and a few pages on the far corner. She shoved the notebook towards them and he got it, he did. He got it even more when she turned around, leaning over it, bending so her ass was up in the air, outlined in a pair of jean shorts, her long, muscular, tanned legs begging for his hands, his fingers, his mouth.

"Don't you want… the bed… maybe we should?" His tongue was thick in his mouth. Callisto turned, studying him. Assessing him. Staring right through him.

She reached for her notebook, wrote, and set it in his hands.

I'VE NEVER DONE THAT BEFORE.

"In a bed?" He gasped.

One more head shake.

"Oh. I- I see." He twisted his hands, grasping the notebook so hard he was probably going to leave sweaty fingerprints on the pages. "It's special then?" Duh.

She tilted her face up like she wasn't entirely sure that was the right word. Intimate would be a better term. He'd told her that he couldn't do anything physical again until it meant something to her. She'd waited. He'd waited. Neither of them had made any indication to the other, but that didn't mean that there wasn't something growing.

It took time.

In her own, special, very Callisto way, this was her telling him that it did mean something now. She could have come into the office and seduced him, bent herself over his desk, and let that be the end of it. She'd asked him first, if he would share a bed. Not for one night, but for all the nights.

He still didn't know if she was going to stay, but she was still there, long after Sophia left. She wasn't just there for him, but he didn't need her to be. He needed her to be there for the kids, for her family, for the community he loved, and most of all, for herself. He'd very much doubted that in her finding her way, she'd find her way to him. This felt like the first step on a new path, one that ended in more than a forced, platonic mating.

He got brave enough to tilt her face up and stare into her beautiful eyes. He'd never see the hills of Scotland in his lifetime—shifters didn't do so well on a plane or in a confined space for a long period of time, and often he wondered how his ancestors had survived on the long ocean voyage—but he imagined that the color of her eyes would very closely match the beauty of a homeland his ancestors had to leave behind for a new beginning.

"Would you like to? With me? Because we could just sleep—"

She put her hand over his lips. Not just her fingers, but her whole palm. He was so worried about saying exactly the right thing, but she didn't need that. She nodded solemnly and took his hand. She didn't need him to say anything at all.