“I tried a new muffin recipe,” he announces, swinging the oven door open like it’s a reveal. “No clue if it worked, but they smell edible, so we’re counting that as a win.”
“They smell amazing,” I say, and slide onto a stool, letting Valkyrie plop her head in my lap as she waits for the snacks I’ll sneak her when no one is looking. Lucian comes to stand beside me; his hand finds the small of my back, a quiet, steadyingweight. Selene pours tea from the kettle and adds the perfect amount of too much honey with the casual precision of someone who’s done this a thousand times. She passes the mug to me without a word, just a small nod that tells me she knows more than she’s letting on as she walks away.
She settles against the counter beside Theo, their shoulders brushing, and the air shifts with a new type of tension. “As much as I love having you here,” she says, “why are you in Shadow Grove and not on Umbra’s tour?” The question is small, but it lands like a probe to see if there is anything we can tell her without telling Theo my secret.
Lucian answers before I get the chance to. “Someone broke into Ara’s rig a few weeks ago, and yesterday it escalated; someone tried to kidnap her. Their tour manager said they needed to pull the dates until they can figure out who is behind the attempted abduction and when it’ll be safe to go back on the road.”
Theo’s face goes from casual to stunned in a breath; his hand flies to his mouth, eyes wide in a way that makes him look younger than he is. “Wait—what? Are you serious? Ara? Oh my God—”
Selene’s expression changes too, and I can see the private panic behind her eyes because she knows what Theo doesn’t: Ara is not a stranger to this kitchen. I know she’s going to try to ask about me without saying my name, and to protect the identity she’s sworn to keep. The way she frames the next question is careful and small, like stepping across glass.
“Is—” she begins, and the syllable hangs. Her fingers curl around the counter as if she needs something to hold onto. “Is Ara okay? Is she hurt? Does this mean the entire tour is off?”
Lucian’s hand at the small of my back is steady and warm, and Selene’s eyes are on me, wide and raw and pleading without sound. Theo, still reeling, looks between Lucian and me.
“Ara’s fine, for now,” I say, and the words come out steadier than I feel. “She’s going to be in hiding for the foreseeable future. I think she’s staying with some family. From what I’ve heard, she has a few cuts and bruises from yesterday, but nothing that therapy can’t help with. There was a press release today, and they’re cancelling the tour dates until the assailant is caught; everyone’s afraid of what the next escalation would look like.”
Theo exhales, a long, ragged sound, and then he does something that makes me want to laugh and cry at once: he nods, hard, like a promise. “Okay. Okay. If there’s anything—anything—you need while you’re here waiting for the guy that attacked Ara to get caught, tell me. Wait—can I even do anything to help? No, I own a fucking café.” He snaps his fingers. “WAIT! Orion can help; he still works for the FBI, right? What about you, Grumpy Green Giant? Do you still work for the FBI? Fuck. I don’t even care about Japan right now. I just want Umbra safe.” He says it as if he means it, and then, he turns to Selene and adds, quieter, “We’re still going to Japan in a few weeks. Even if the band can’t play, we’ll still go. Until then, we’ll be there for you and Umbra in whatever way they need.” Selene squeezes his arm, in a small, fierce affirmation.
“We’re relieved Ara’s safe and with family,” Selene says, leaning back against the counter like she’s bracing for my reaction. “And I know you two are running on fumes, so we’ll keep this short. We just… have big news.”
My eyes go wide before I can stop them. She groans.
“Not that kind of news,” she mutters. “Theo moved in.”
I blink. “Wait—like officially?”
Theo’s grin is immediate, and he nods his head hard and fast enough to give me a headache. “Yep. Last week. We even survived an IKEA trip together, which I think legally counts as a compatibility test. Which means my place is sitting empty. And we figured… if you two want space, or quiet, or just somewherethat’s yours while you’re here, it’s there for you. I went over earlier and made sure you have clean sheets, stocked coffee, the works. I even left instructions on how not to ruin my French press. Everything else in my kitchen is simple enough; you don’t need instructions for it.”
All I can do is stare at them. My chest tightens in that warm, painful way that comes from being cared for more than you expect. I want to stay here and be close to Selene, but the idea of having a place to breathe lands like a soft exhale I didn’t know I needed.
“Congratulations! But you didn’t have to set everything else up for us,” I say, voice thinner than I mean it to be.
“We wanted to,” Selene says. “You’re safe here. But if you need a little distance from the noise, it’s yours.”
I glance at Lucian. He’s already watching me, like he knew before I did that this would be the right call. I give a small nod. He returns it, just as quiet.
“We’d love that. Thank you,” I murmur. “Really.”
Selene presses a key into my palm, warm from her hand. Theo rattles off the address and assures us it’s only ten minutes away, then they both insist we go rest before I can argue.
Which is how we end up dragging our bags up the steps of a tidy little bungalow with a porch swing that sways gently in the breeze.
The air inside smells faintly of cedar and the last coffee he brewed before he packed up his life. The living room is mostly bare, just a couch pushed against the wall with a coffee table in front of it, a lamp with a crooked shade, and a single framed photo on the mantle that he must’ve forgotten to take. Or maybe he left it on purpose. I walk over to it before flipping the picture of Theo and his aunt on its face. He definitely meant to leave it. If it were me, I would’ve burned the photo and everything else that was hers. The thought of becoming an orphan because ofthe selfish acts of someone who claimed to love me makes my chest tighten.
It’s a beautiful house, even stripped down with warm wood floors and tall windows that let in the late-afternoon light. We walk through to the kitchen, noticing the clean counters and a lone mug drying upside-down by the sink. Everything else is gone; there is no clutter, no noise, just the bones of a home he once lived in.
We walk through it slowly, our footsteps soft against the floorboards. There are little signs he tried to make it homier for us with fresh towels folded on the bathroom counter, a candle set out but not lit, a blanket draped over the back of the couch like he wasn’t sure where it should go.
I move down the hallway, fingers brushing the wall as I pass the first door. I push it open to find… nothing. Just a bare room with the streetlight pooling across bare floors. There is no furniture or curtains. It’s empty.
The second room is basically the same, with four bare walls, a window, and the faint echo of a life that used to be here. It hits me then, how much he must’ve stripped away when he left; he didn’t expect to come back.
He must’ve scrambled today, trying to make this place feel less empty.
My throat tightens at his kindness as we reach the last door at the end of the hall. Lucian hesitates for half a second before nudging it open.
There’s a queen-sized bed made up with fresh sheets and a single nightstand with a lamp and a small stack of romance novels.
