Cal does not wait for an apology. He grabs his bag from where he dropped it by the couch, slinging it over his shoulder with sharp, angry movements.
"Etienne." He looks at me, his amber eyes still blazing but softer now. Concerned. "Go after her. I do not know if she is still the nerdy MaeMae from the past, but she should not be ruining her makeup crying in a bathroom stall while eating a bagel she does not even get to enjoy because this asshole decided to be cruel for no fucking reason."
I nod, already moving to grab my own bag and coffee.
But I pause at the door.
"She does not wear makeup."
Cal stops mid-stride, turning to look at me with confusion.
"What?"
"Mae." I adjust the strap of my bag on my shoulder. "She does not wear makeup. I saw her items in the bathroom this morning when I was guiding her to the shower. No foundation, no mascara, no anything. Just lip balm and some kind of color gloss. No skincare either."
Cal frowns, processing this information.
"Every girl wears makeup," he says slowly, like he is testing the statement. "My sisters wear makeup. Every Omega I have ever met wears at least mascara."
I shake my head, pushing through the door with Cal right behind me. We leave Rafe standing in the kitchen, still clutching his gut, still silent.
Good. Let him think about what he did.
"No," I say as we walk down the hallway of our dorm building. "I checked. Not because I was snooping, but because I noticed when I was looking for her toothbrush to make sure she had one. No makeup. Well, aside from the lip balm and color gloss. No skincare products beyond basic soap. No hair products beyond shampoo and conditioner."
Cal's frown deepens.
"Does she have anything?"
The question echoes through my mind, mixing with everything else I have noticed about Mae in the past twenty-four hours. The ancient phone she refuses to replace. The suitcase that fell apart in front of our dorm. The way she offered to pay me back for a simple bagel like she has been conditioned to believe nothing comes without a cost.
And her luggage.
Her one suitcase that was falling apart at the seams was filled with coats.
I remember helping her carry it inside, remember the weight of it, remember glimpsing the contents when the zipper gave way for a moment. Heavy winter coats packed so tightly they could barely breathe. The kind of thick, practical outerwear that would keep you alive through freezing temperatures.
Not clothes for fashion. Not clothes for variety. Clothes for survival.
How bad was her situation before she came here?
How long has she been surviving instead of living?
"I do not know," I admit, my voice quiet. "But I am starting to think it was worse than any of us realized."
We reach the main exit of the dorm building, and I pause, scanning the pathway outside.
"We will talk more at practice," Cal says, following my gaze. "Go find her. Make sure she is okay."
I nod.
"See you later."
"Later." He claps me on the shoulder before heading off toward the main campus buildings, his stride still tight with residual anger.
I turn the opposite direction, following the pull in my chest that seems to know where she went even before my eyes confirm it.
There.
