Page 77 of Heat Clickbait
"Okay," I said. "But you should know, it's not traditional. Ghost wired it to be better than any smart home, Crash contributed weighted blankets that look like modern art exploded, and there's a kitchen annex because Milo physically cannot stop feeding people."
"It sounds perfect," she said, and for the first time since she'd walked back into my life, she smiled. Small, tentative, but real. "It sounds like you."
The drive back to the house was surreal. I kept glancing in the wing mirrors and in the rearview to make sure she was following as though she'd suddenly change her mind and disappear without a trace again. Pesky abandonment issues.
"This is where Callie tried to make pasta," Milo said as we entered the kitchen, pointing to a scorch mark on the ceiling I'd been pretending didn't exist.
"She always was enthusiastic about things she couldn't do," my mother said, and there was fondness in it that made my chest tight.
When we reached the nest, she stood at the threshold for a long moment, taking it in. The sophisticated technology that was all but invisible, the carefully planned comfort, the obvious love built into every detail.
"They built this before they met me," I explained, moving to the center and settling into the familiar embrace of weighted blankets and Alpha-scented fabrics. "Built it for the idea of someone who might need them."
"And the universe sent them you." She moved closer, not entering but observing. "Or you them. Either way, it's rather poetic."
"Would you like to come in?" Blitz asked, surprising everyone. "Just to see? Nests are traditionally private, but..." He shrugged. "You're Callie's family. That makes you ours, kind of."
My mother's eyes filled with tears she quickly blinked away. "That's... very kind. But no. This is yours. Sacred. I'm just grateful you let me see it exists."
Later, as she prepared to leave, she pulled me aside while the pack gave us space.
"I'm proud of you," she said quietly. "Not for finding Alphas or maintaining independence or any of the things I thought mattered. I'm proud that you're brave enough to choose love when it terrifies you. That's something I never managed."
Words clogged my throat and I had no idea how to respond. Before I could work it out she was gone and I was left trying to respond to the space where she'd been standing.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Callie
The nest superstore stretched before us like a pastel-colored fever dream, its entrance yawning wide like the mouth of some benevolent giant. Every surface was soft, touchable, inviting customers to run their fingers over fabrics and imagine their own perfect sanctuary.
The Cozy Corner occupied an entire warehouse, three floors of nesting supplies that ranged from basic cotton sheets displayed on humble wooden tables to temperature-regulating smart fabrics that cost more than most people's rent, presented like precious artifacts under gentle spotlights. Considering Omegas were the smallest section of the population the fact that the store was so massive never ceased to amuse me, except for right now, when I was the one shopping in it.
The sheer scale of it made my chest tight with something between excitement and panic. Whole packs wandered the aisles with shopping lists clutched in careful hands, while lone Alphas stood awkwardly near displays of scent diffusers, clearly out of their depth but determined to please their mates who were always just a few steps away. A few Beta employees in softlavender uniforms moved through the space like graceful ghosts, offering assistance with knowing smiles.
"We're really doing this?" I asked as Nova placed his warm hand on my lower back, his palm steady and reassuring against the thin fabric of my oversized band tee as we stood just inside the entrance.
The familiar whiskey-and-leather scent of him mixed with the store's carefully engineered atmosphere, a blend of lavender and vanilla designed to soothe anxious Omegas shopping for such intimate, vulnerable items. The artificial calm should have felt manipulative, but instead it made my shoulders drop from their defensive hunch.
"You don't have to… I mean, the nest is already perfect, and this is expensive, and?—"
Milo cut me off with a gentle laugh that vibrated through his chest. "The nest is ours, but it was built for the idea of you," he said, his honey-warm presence steady at my other side, that perpetual golden glow of contentment that surrounded him like a personal sun. "Now we want it to be yours. Actually yours, with things you chose because they spoke to you, not because some designer thought they looked good together. We've claimed you in every way possible, now let us celebrate it by giving you the nest you want, not the one we think you might want."
My throat tightened at the thoughtfulness buried in those words, the careful distinction he was making. After everything, the viral heat that exposed us to the world, my mother's unexpected visit that ripped open old wounds, they were still finding ways to show me I mattered as an individual, not just as their Omega. Not just as the missing piece that completed their pack.
Ghost held up his phone with the fluid grace that marked all his movements, showing me a note he'd typed in his characteristic minimal style.
No budget. Get what speaks to you.
"That's dangerous," I warned, but I was already eyeing a display of weighted blankets in jewel tones that seemed to shimmer under the store's soft lighting, each one calling to some deep part of my hindbrain that craved pressure and security. "Like, stupidly dangerous. Do you know how much I could spend in here if you give me carte blanche?"
"Live dangerously," Crash said, bouncing on his toes with his characteristic manic energy, that restless movement that never quite stopped. He'd already commandeered a cart, one of the oversized ones meant for serious nesting expeditions, and was eyeing the electronics section with the focused intensity of a predator spotting prey. "Babe, they have smart pillows that can play custom soundscapes! And look—" He gestured wildly at a display of what looked like space-age sleep masks. "Ones that track your REM cycles and adjust the temperature based on your hormone levels!"
"Of course that's where your brain goes," Blitz laughed, but he was studying the athletic recovery section with equal interest, his fitness-focused mind clearly cataloguing possibilities. "Check it out though, they have cooling sheets specifically designed for post-workout recovery. Temperature-regulating fibers that activate when your body heat rises above normal ranges."
"You're all nerds," I accused, but fondly, watching them scatter slightly to explore their respective interests while still maintaining that invisible tether that kept the pack together.
We moved deeper into the store as a unit, but I noticed how they each gave me space to explore on my own terms, hovering close enough to offer opinions if asked but not overwhelming me with their preferences or assumptions. It was a small thing, maybe, but after years of building walls around myindependence, of fighting tooth and nail to maintain some sense of self in a world that wanted to reduce me to my designation, their consideration felt monumental.
