Page 76 of Heat Clickbait
"You said you'd be on your best behavior," I snapped.
Ghost nodded once, no elaboration needed, responding to my mother and ignoring my own outburst, which was irritating, but I also understood. He wasn't ashamed of his past, and neither was I, but I hated that it was the first thing she'd brought up.
"And you?" She turned to Nova. "The heir who walked away from fortune for this?"
"For them," Nova corrected with quiet dignity. "The fortune would have meant nothing without people who see me as more than my last name and bank account."
She went through each of them, Crash's family dynamics, Blitz's sister's illness, Milo's family's restaurant. She'd done her research, watching our streams with the kind of obsessiveattention usually reserved for doctoral dissertations, and she wanted us to know.
"You've built something different," she finally admitted, the words pulled from her like splinters. "Not the traditional pack dynamics that destroyed me, but something... new."
"We're trying," I said, unsure how to proceed. "Mom, I understand why you left. The humiliation, the loss of control, the way the world treated you after?—"
Her gaze shuttered. "I went into heat on live television." The words came out flat, practiced. "In front of three million viewers. The Alpha who was supposed to love me called me disgusting and walked away while cameras rolled. The footage exists forever. It gets dragged up more often than you'd think and has been made into memes, compilation videos, 'Omega Fail' collections. Your father left three months later, said he couldn't look at me without seeing that moment."
The pack bristled collectively, protective instincts flaring. Crash actually growled, low and threatening.
"But you," she continued, looking at me directly for the first time, "you went into biological crisis in public and somehow turned it into empowerment. You documented everything, the good, the messy, the vulnerable. And these Alphas..." She paused, visibly struggling. "They protected you even from yourselves."
"We protect each other," Milo said softly. "That's what pack means."
My mother was quiet for a long moment, staring at her cooling tea. "I convinced myself leaving was protection. That distance would keep you from my fate. Instead, I just gave you different trauma to overcome."
"Yeah, you did." The honesty hurt to voice, but it needed saying. "But I found my way through it. Found them. Found myself."
"The interview," she said suddenly. "When I spoke to Channel 9. I thought I was warning others, protecting Omegas from?—"
"From what? Choosing their own lives? Having some agency?" I couldn't keep the edge from my voice. "Mom, you don't get to decide what's right for every Omega just because your experience was traumatic."
"I know that now." She pulled out her phone, showing me something that made my breath catch. "I've been in therapy. Real therapy, not the surface-level counseling I tried before. Working through what happened, why I ran, what I took from you by leaving."
The screen showed a certificate of completion from an intensive trauma program. It was the last thing I'd expected. Over the years I'd tried to reach out to her, but she'd never returned any of my emails, calls, or even letters. Sometimes I had wondered why I still let her into my life now, why I let the interview someone who was essentially a stranger did impact me so much. There was only one answer and it was because she was my mother. Even after everything she'd put my through I still craved her love, just like I did my fathers' but I knew that contacting them would be opening a can of worms I was definitely not ready for.
"I want to try," she said, the words fragile as spun glass. "To be in your life, if you'll let me. Not as the mother who knows best, but as... someone learning to do better."
I felt Nova's hand find mine under the table, steady and grounding. The others shifted closer, not crowding but definitely present, their combined scents creating that bubble of safety I'd come to rely on.
"There would need to be boundaries," I said carefully. "No more public commentary about our choices. No treating the pack like they're taking advantage. No acting like biology isdestiny instead of just... biology. If you really watched all of our streams then you'll know we went through the tests. Dr. Yates proved that we make each other better, not worse. That's partly because of how we treat each other. We choose each other every day."
"I can do that." She looked at each Alpha in turn. "I owe you an apology. All of you. I painted you as predators before knowing you were protectors. That was wrong."
"We understand protecting Callie," Nova said diplomatically. "We do it ourselves, sometimes too much. Sometimes she needs it."
"Hey," I protested, but he wasn't wrong.
"There's something else," my mother said, reaching into her purse. She pulled out a small wrapped package, sliding it across the table. "I saved this. From before. I thought... maybe you'd want it for your nest."
I unwrapped it carefully, finding a small blanket, hand-woven in soft pink and cream yarns. It smelled faintly sweet and spicy, like it had been carefully preserved, but age had distorted the original scent.
"You made this when you were six," she said softly. "Insisted on learning to knit because you wanted to make your own nest someday. I was worried about you with knitting needles so I taught you how to weave instead. It took you six months, and it's full of dropped lines and uneven tension, but you were so proud."
Tears burned my eyes as I ran my fingers over the uneven fabric. I remembered this, vaguely. Sitting with her in the living room, her hands guiding mine through the basic weaving motions.
"Thank you," I managed, voice thick.
"I'd like to see it," she said carefully. "Your nest. If... if that's not too invasive."
I wanted to say it was, that she had no right to ask something like that, but the words stuck in my throat. The pack exchanged glances, silent communication flowing between us. Finally, Ghost nodded once. My mother had shown vulnerability; we could reciprocate.
