Page 32 of Heat Clickbait
Maybe needing people didn't mean losing yourself.
Maybe, with the right people, it meant finding yourself instead.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Crash
The kitchen smelled wrong. Not bad, Milo's cooking never smelled bad, but wrong. Like cinnamon rolls trying to mask the sharp edge of anxiety that had been building since I'd checked my phone an hour ago.
I drummed my fingers against the marble counter in a rhythm that matched the notification pings still going off every three seconds, watching Nova pace the length of the room while Ghost tracked something on his tablet that made his jaw clench tighter with each swipe.
"Seventeen news vans," Ghost said, not looking up. His voice scraped like he'd been gargling gravel. "Three documentary crews. Someone from the BBC."
"The actual BBC?" Blitz dropped his protein shake, and it rolled across the floor, leaving a chocolate trail that would've made Milo lose his mind on a normal day. But Milo just stood at the stove, mechanically stirring something that had probably been perfect ten minutes ago.
Nova's phone rang. Again. He'd been declining calls for the past hour, but this time he stopped mid-pace, staring at the screen like it might bite him.
"Your mother?" Milo asked without turning around.
"Third time this morning." Nova's accent had gone so sharp you could cut glass with it. "Father's called twice. My sister sent thirty-seven texts that progressively devolve from concern to threats about what she'll do to anyone who's 'corrupted her baby brother.'"
I couldn't help it, I laughed. The sound cracked through the kitchen like a whip, making everyone turn. "Your sister thinks Callie corrupted you? Has she met you? You organize your socks by thread count."
"I organize them by color and fabric composition," Nova corrected stiffly, but his mouth twitched. "Thread count would be inefficient."
Another notification lit up my phone. This time, a Google alert. My stomach dropped as I read the headline out loud, "OMEGA MOTHER OF VIRAL STAR SPEAKS OUT: 'I Don't Want This For Her.'"
The kitchen went silent except for the bubble of whatever Milo was now destroying on the stove.
"Fuck," Blitz breathed. "Her mom?"
I pulled up the article, speed-reading through the disaster. "Channel 9 morning show. Exclusive interview with Margaret Cross about her daughter's 'situation.' Direct quote: 'I lived through a public heat disaster. The humiliation never goes away. I thought Callie understood that biology isn't destiny, but here she is, making the same mistakes.'"
Milo finally turned off the stove, his hands gripping the counter edge. Through our pack bonds, I felt his distress spike, not for us, but for Callie, still sleeping in the nest after yesterday's intensity.
"She doesn't know," he said quietly. "About her mother. Has anyone?—"
"Let her sleep." Nova's command voice kicked in, the one that made even my chaotic brain snap to attention. "She needs rest more than she needs crisis management."
But I knew Callie better than that already. The girl who'd built an empire on savage independence wouldn't want us protecting her from hard truths.
"Boss," I started, but my phone exploded with a call that overrode everything else.
Mom calling.
My mother who had opinions about everything and shared them at volume eleven.
"Tanner!" Her voice burst through the speaker before I could even say hello. "What is this I'm seeing on the news? Five Alphas and one Omega? Your father is having chest pains!"
"Ma, Dad has chest pains when the grocery store runs out of his coffee brand."
"Don't be smart with me, Tanner Luis Bailey. I raised you better than to be on the news for..." She spoke so quickly that I couldn't keep up. It basically boiled down to various creative threats about what she'd do to my reproductive organs if I'd dishonored this poor girl.
"Ma, it's not, we didn't… it's complicated."
"Complicated?" Her voice hit that pitch that made grown men cry. "What's complicated about respect? About honor? You're all over the internet acting like—like?—"
"Like we're in love?" The words tumbled out before I could stop them. The kitchen went still again, everyone staring at me. "Because we are. All of us. With her. And she, well, she chose us back."
