The Shape of Silence

Chapter Twelve: Ivy

“Today? Ivy—” He blew out a breath, his expression flipping between incredulous and exasperated in that way only he could manage. “You mean to tell me you agreed to meet me for coffee on your birthday?”

Ivy shrugged with a small, awkward smile tugging at her lips. “Didn’t really have other plans.”

His eyes narrowed, not in anger, but in something else—something thoughtful and appraising.

“You should have plans,” he muttered, almost to himself. “You should be somewhere with cake. Or something with glitter. Maybe even a little chaos.” Then louder, to her, “Why didn’t you say anything earlier? We could have done a dinner.”

“I didn’t want to make a thing out of it,” she said honestly. “Most people don’t care. Allie and I hung out yesterday, she’s my friend.”

Understatement of the year, Arden muttered. She dragged us around all day and couldn’t even spring for a cupcake.

It’s fine, Ivy replied inwardly, though her chest sank with familiar resignation. I don’t expect much anymore.

Rowan turned his full attention to her during a red light, brows furrowed. “Still. You should have said something. We would have loved to properly celebrate with you. We’ll just have to make the most out of breakfast.”

We. The word caught her by surprise—like she was already included, already counted.

They’re your mates, Arden said gently. You matter to them whether you know what to do with that or not.

Ivy looked down at her hands folded in her lap. After a long pause, she whispered, “I guess I’ve gotten used to pretending it’s just another day.”

Rowan exhaled slowly, eyes returning to the road. “Well, you’re not allowed to do that anymore.”

Ivy blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

His smile softened, careful now, like he was choosing his words with care. “I know today isn’t just a birthday for you. It’s a lot. But that doesn’t mean you have to carry it alone, or ignore the day because of it. We’ll celebrate in a way that feels right for you—something gentle, or silly, or whatever you need.”

Heat prickled behind her eyes, and she quickly turned to look out the window, blinking hard to keep it at bay.

Careful, Arden murmured, amused. He’s going to ruin your tough-girl image.

Too late, Ivy thought, biting back a shaky laugh.

“Thanks,” she said quietly. “For not making it weird.”

“Not weird,” Rowan said softly. “Real. Honest. And if you want balloons and streamers later, I’m down for that too. But only when you’re ready.”

“Oh my god,” she groaned, laughing now despite herself.

He chuckled, clearly pleased. “That’s better. Happy birthday, Ivy.”

She looked at him again, at the warmth in his smile, the sincerity in his eyes, and for the first time in a long while, she didn’t feel alone on this day.

“Is it okay for me to ask how old you are?” Rowan asked, easing the car into a parking space just outside the café. “My sister once punched me for asking. So… please don’t hit me.”

Ivy laughed softly. “I won’t hit you. I’m twenty-two.”

“Phew. Dodged a bullet,” he said dramatically, clutching his chest. “Thank the moon.”

Before she could reach for the door handle, he was already out of the car and circling around to open it for her.

She blinked, hesitating just a second before stepping out. “You don’t have to do that,” she said, though her voice lacked bite.

“I want to,” he replied simply, shutting the door behind her.

He’s being kind, Arden noted, the wariness in her tone shifting to curiosity. Not pretending. Not performing.

I know, Ivy thought, her heart fluttering in her chest, cheeks burning. That might be the part that scares me the most.

The café was bright and small, smelling like roasted heaven. They got in line, and Rowan reached for a menu, though Ivy’s eyes were already locked on something behind the glass.

A Cinnabon. Enormous. Glorious. Smothered in icing and practically begging her to ruin her self-control.

You’re practically drooling, Arden teased, her voice a low purr in the back of Ivy’s mind.

Ivy’s lips twitched, fighting down a laugh. Not helping, she shot back.

I’m just saying, Arden continued slyly, that thing looks like it could solve at least half your problems. And the person who could solve the other half is standing next to you ordering coffee.

When they reached the front, Rowan ordered their coffees—black for him, iced vanilla latte for her. Ivy’s eyes widened as the cashier slid two Cinnabons into a bag.

“You were staring at it like it owed you money,” Rowan said, amusement clear in his voice. “Felt rude to just leave it there.”

Mate behavior, Arden sing-songed in her head. He feeds you. Keep him.

I’m not keeping anyone, Ivy muttered internally. But I do like him.

They found a small table by the window, tucked slightly out of the way. Rowan carried the tray while Ivy snagged napkins. Her fingers twitched slightly as the scent of the cinnabon mingled with Rowan’s natural intoxicating smell.

Mates smell good, Arden reminded her softly, knowing. It’s nature’s way of dragging your stubborn self toward fate.

I’m not being dragged, Ivy retorted, biting the insides of her cheeks to keep from smiling. I’m just… walking near it. Casually.

Uh-huh, Arden teased. Keep telling yourself that while you make bedroom eyes at a pastry.

Rowan nudged the pastry toward her once they sat, tapping it lightly with his knuckles. “Happy birthday, again.”

Ivy smirked, breaking off a piece and popping it into her mouth. The sugary dough exploded on her tongue. She closed her eyes in savory satisfaction.

“This is amazing, thank you so much.”

“I live to impress,” he said, leaning back in his chair, watching her with that easy, quiet attentiveness.

And for a moment, with sunlight spilling through the window and warmth lingering in her chest, Ivy let herself forget the heaviness that always came with this day.

Just for a moment.

“Why did you randomly show up to the party the other night?” Rowan asked, sipping his coffee. He batted his lashes playfully at her.

The question was easy enough, and she felt comfortable answering without revealing anything about what they were in public.

Ivy still grimaced, the warmth of the moment flickering like a candle in a breeze. Rowan had been open and honest with her up until now. There was no reason to hide the truth, but still—a coil of guilt tightened in her chest.

“I go to all the main parties through the city,” she said finally, voice low and guarded. “A few months ago, I wound up at a nature conference, pretended I’d studied wolves in the Arctic Circle, blew them away with my knowledge, earned a free meal from it, and enjoyed listening to the updated info they collected on gorillas. Before that, I was at a modeling convention, downtown—they showed all the latest fashion, spectacular hors d’oeuvres.”

Rowan’s head tilted, eyebrows knitting as he tried to piece together where she was going.

“You go for the food?” he stated slowly, as if the idea was so simple it couldn’t possibly be true—like starvation was a concept that never crossed his mind. The brief flash of shock wafted off of him, confirming her thoughts that the idea of someone going hungry and becoming desperate was just so out there it was hard for him to grasp.

To him, going hungry probably isn't even a blip on his radar, Arden said dryly, voice dripping with irony. Some people worry about stock markets. We worry about whether the fruit will last the week.

“Yeah,” Ivy admitted aloud with a small sigh, stirring her latte absentmindedly. “But it sounds bad when you phrase it like that.”

Her cheeks burned, though she kept her expression neutral. Saying it aloud made her feel small—like she’d peeled back a layer she’d spent years carefully stitching shut. She hated the way the truth sat there between them, raw and fragile, waiting for him to handle it wrong.

She hesitated, the sting of her reality creeping in. Yet still, she felt the need to explain. “Chuck held my paycheck for a couple of weeks. I didn’t have the time or money for groceries, and after one of the other employees took advantage of the meal plan, we don’t get free meals anymore—even when we work a double.”

There. It’s out, Arden murmured, her tone softer now. Keep your head up. You survived—he needs to understand that much.

Rowan’s eyes softened, but there was still a flicker of something—disbelief? Concern? Rage? She couldn’t quite place it.

“That’s… rough,” he said quietly.

Ivy shrugged, forcing a smile. “Welcome to the low class of working world.”

See? You’re tougher than you think” Arden whispered in her mind, proud.

Rowan reached across the table and gave her hand a light squeeze, the warmth of his touch both startling and grounding.

“It’s not like that with me,” he said. “If you ever need a real meal, not a scavenged one, just tell me.”

Ivy’s heart did a small leap—half hope, half caution. The offer was kind, too kind, and kindness was dangerous. It made her want things she couldn’t afford to want.

She pulled her hand back gently. “Thanks. But I’m good. I’m not a charity case.”

“I didn’t say you were,” Rowan answered easily. “I’d do the same for any of my siblings, my friends, the people who work under us at the office.” A wry smile twisted across his face. “Would it make you feel better if I said you weren’t special?”

Ivy grinned, “Actually, it might.”

But we are special to him, Arden huffed. We’re mates. That word means something, even if you’re too stubborn to admit it.

You said you didn’t know much about mates either, Ivy snapped, a little sharper than she meant to.

Riven’s been telling me about them while you two talk, Arden preened, smug satisfaction dripping from her tone. Seems like he thinks we’re pretty important.

Ivy ignored her.

The air between them shifted, warm but tentative, like the fragile truce between their worlds.

“You could come work for us,” Rowan said, voice steady but hopeful. “We could use someone like you—smart, resourceful. And you wouldn’t have to worry about meals or paychecks being held.”

Ivy blinked, the idea feeling both foreign and strangely comforting. “Work for you? What, like at the mansion with all the fancy parties? A server?”

Rowan smiled, a bit sheepishly. “No, at the office.”

For a split second, Ivy pictured it—steady paychecks, meals she didn’t have to scheme for, days where she wasn’t counting tips that weren’t stolen before she got them. A life that wasn’t scraping by on luck and exhaustion. The image burned bright, dangerous in its appeal.

Arden hummed quietly in agreement, her protective tone softening. Could be a good idea. Better than chasing scraps.

Ivy chewed her lip, the stubborn independence inside her bristling at the thought of relying on anyone. But the ache of exhaustion and hunger pressed against her resolve—a sharp reminder that maybe—just maybe—accepting help wasn’t weakness.

“Let me think about it,” Ivy said finally, voice low but sincere. “Thanks for the offer.”

Rowan’s smile widened, eyes warm and encouraging. “No rush. Whenever you’re ready.”

Ivy bit her lip, staring down at her coffee cup as if it held all the answers.

“If Chuck gives me a hard time and I suddenly unleash six years of pent-up frustrations on him and he fires me, will that count against my chances of getting hired?” she teased, half-smiling but still unsure.

Rowan laughed, the sound sank into her chest, filling her with warmth. For a moment, she forgot how heavy her life felt, forgot the gnawing worry always waiting to drag her under. His laugh chased it back like light into shadows. “No, that definitely wouldn’t count against you. If you’d like, Callum or I could chew him up for you.”

No, he’s mine to bite! Arden snarled.

“Arden’s already laid claim to that,” Ivy chuckled softly, feeling some of the tension ease from her shoulders.

“Arden sounds fierce—she’s definitely got your back.” Rowan’s voice softened, a hint of vulnerability threading through it. “So, after here… did you want to catch a movie at the theater? Or do something else?”

Ivy’s eyes flicked up, a flicker of hope mingling with uncertainty. Her fingers twined nervously around the strap of her bag, her throat tightening as a surge of hesitation rose. Did she deserve this? Could she even trust a day like this?

Rowan noticed immediately, his gaze sharpening but gentle. “You don’t have to say yes, you know. No pressure at all.”

That earnestness made her exhale slowly, the tight knot in her chest loosening just a bit. Her lips curved into a tentative smile that felt like a small victory. “Okay,” she said quietly, voice a touch lighter. “Let’s do it. A movie sounds perfect.”

Outside, the sharp morning light wrapped around them, and Rowan reached out with a casual grace, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. The touch lingered longer than necessary, sending a pulse straight through her and her skin tingled from where he’d touched. Then he offered his arm.

Ivy hesitated, but her hand slid onto his forearm, trembling just slightly as warmth from his skin radiated through the thin fabric. She leaned in just a fraction, enough to catch a deeper hint of his scent. She inhaled subtly, craving that steady, grounding presence without wanting to admit it aloud, even to herself.

They walked side by side, the closeness natural, comforting. Ivy’s fingers curled around the arm he offered, seeking silent reassurance, feeling her heartbeat steady against the rhythm of his steps.

Rowan glanced over at her, curiosity softening his usual guarded expression. “You mentioned Allie earlier. She sounds pretty important to you. What’s the story there?”

Ivy’s lips twitched in a reluctant smile. “We met back in fourth grade. She’s been the one constant I guess.” They stepped around an elderly couple who were holding hands. “When we met, her older brother was teasing me at school on the playground, Allie came out of nowhere and knocked him down, straight on his butt under the tire swing.” Ivy smiled at the memory. “She was still chewing him out when she helped me up.”

Rowan hummed thoughtfully, “Sounds like the start of a great friendship.”

“It was,” Ivy admitted, her thoughts trailing to how Allie was now. “When we were in high school she used to do the homework twice in case I was working all night and couldn’t get to it. I had my own apartment by then, and rent came before school. Sometimes, I didn’t even see her slide it into my bag. She was my lifeline.”

Arden stirred, her voice low but edged. She was. But she’s not that girl anymore, Ivy.

Ivy’s smile faltered for half a second before she forced it back into place. I know.

Rowan was quiet for a moment, his steps slowing just a little as they reached a quieter stretch of sidewalk. He looked over at her, something softer settling in his expression—not pity, but admiration wrapped in quiet understanding.

His thumb brushed gently along the outside of Ivy’s hand where it rested against his arm, a subconscious motion, grounding. “I like her already. Anyone who defends my mate under a tire swing on day one earns automatic points.”

The words landed heavier than she expected, a quiet thrum in her chest. My mate. He’d said it so easily, like it was already decided. Her pulse stumbled, heat coiling low in her stomach before she shoved the thought away.

“She’s definitely one of a kind,” Ivy muttered, embracing the tingles that danced against her skin under his thumb. She didn’t want to bring up Allie’s change in personality, the way she slowly shifted over the years as they grew older. Everybody changes, in their own way. It’s part of life.

“You’re one of a kind too,” Rowan added.

Ivy blushed, and when she glanced at him, he offered a half-smile but didn’t look away.

“Who rented a teenager in high school an apartment?” He finally asked, “I assume you were under eighteen.”

This time Ivy did laugh. “The kind of people who couldn’t spot a fake ID. I was sixteen when I moved out on my own, away from the people I’d been staying with. They used to be friends, I suppose, but by the end it was just better I left.”

Rowan’s brows knit, but he didn’t push. Instead, his grip on her arm subtly shifted—firmer, more present—like he wanted to shield her from the memory even if it was already years past.

“That’s a hell of a thing for a sixteen-year-old to pull off,” he said, voice quieter now, not quite impressed, not quite angry—just… affected. “No one should’ve had to do that alone.”

Ivy shrugged, but the motion was small, restrained. “I didn’t have much of a choice. I was already paying rent in other ways, might as well make it official.”

His jaw tensed, just briefly, and she felt it through the stillness in his posture more than anything. Rowan didn’t interrupt, didn’t ask, didn’t try to fix it or make promises she hadn’t asked for—he just walked with her, matching her steps with unspoken solidarity.

After a beat, she nudged him lightly with her shoulder.

That earned a small smile from him, the tension around his eyes easing.

“Allie was a great distraction from things at home, one time, in high school, we got lost during a summer camp trip. Supposed to be a nature hike, ended up wandering way off into some old, abandoned section of the woods.”

Rowan’s brow quirked, interested. “Let me guess—Allie blamed the map?”

“She blamed the entire concept of maps,” Ivy said laughed. “We kept hearing animals around us, and the whole ‘hug a tree if you’re lost’ thing? Out the window. Allie wanted to throw a rock at the next tree that looked at her funny.”

He laughed too, and Ivy’s grin widened.

“We finally stumbled onto another empty campground—just open space and empty fire pits. We followed the path from that campsite out to the main entrance of the whole campground so we could get our bearings before we had to walk all the way back to our actual camp site. The counselors were freaking out. I think that was the dirtiest I’ve ever seen her get. She still swears she only went because she thought it would be a cute bonding weekend.”

“She never went on another school trip again, huh?”

“Not one,” Ivy said, shaking her head. “She never liked the outdoors much after that.”

But Rowan’s gaze flicked to her face, sharp and searching, like he’d caught the crack in her smile. He didn’t call it out, just let the moment pass, his hand brushing against hers in quiet reassurance. He looked down at her, his voice dipping more serious again. “Is she… human?”

Ivy hesitated, then looked up at him. “You and Callum are the first people like me I’ve ever met. I thought I was… alone.”

Rowan didn’t speak at first, but he pulled her arm just a little closer to his side, his body brushing hers more directly now. Not possessive, but protective. His scent swirled stronger, warm cedar and something sharp beneath—like dusk heat after a summer storm.

“Looks like you’re stuck with me now,” he said simply.

Ivy smiled, and Arden hummed in approval. Being stuck with him didn’t sound like a trap.

Inside the theater lobby, the familiar scent of buttery popcorn and the murmur of other patrons faded around them. They settled into seats near the back, sharing a large tub of popcorn. As Rowan’s hand brushed hers reaching for the popcorn, she didn’t pull away. Instead, she let her fingers linger, savoring the contact.

Throughout the film, Ivy found herself subtly shifting closer, her shoulder brushing against his, stealing a quiet breath of his scent whenever the dim light allowed. It was a grounding tether, a balm for the ache she carried beneath her ribs. In the flickering shadows, she let herself laugh softly, the sound freer and lighter than it had been in months.

Afterward, the sky outside had softened into deep shades of orange and pink. Rowan walked her back to his car, their footsteps falling into an easy rhythm on the sidewalk.

She savored the car ride to her apartment, and felt a rush of disappointment when she realized she had to get out. Just like before, Rowan opened the door for her, and this time, he walked her to her apartment door.

At her door, Ivy paused, heart pounding with a new kind of hope. She looked up, meeting his eyes—steady, warm, and open—and whispered, “Thanks. For today.”

His smile was gentle, a quiet promise, and his fingers brushed briefly against hers—a touch electric and tender.

“Anytime, Ivy. Happy birthday.”

He didn’t push physical contact, no hug, no kiss. Ivy didn’t initiate it either, but she ached for the contact. Instead, she watched him walk away, his scent lingering long after he was gone. Her chest felt lighter, hope blooming like fragile new leaves. Maybe—just maybe—this was the start of something good.

Ivy climbed into bed and rolled onto her side, staring at the ceiling like it might offer some answers. The room felt too quiet now, too empty where Rowan’s presence had been. Her heart still thudded with the remnants of the afternoon, warm and heavy all at once.

“Is this what love feels like?” she whispered to Arden, voice small, uncertain. “Because it kind of hurts.”

It’s the mate bond, Ivy, Arden rumbled softly inside her mind, a low, steady presence. It makes you want to be near him, to share every breath and moment. It amplifies everything — the good, the bad, the messy in-between.

Ivy buried her face in the soft pillow, fists clutching the empty blankets like a lifeline. “Gods, this sucks,” she murmured, voice muffled and raw.

And that’s just one of your mates, Arden teased, a sudden bark of laughter shaking the quiet room. Imagine if both had been there today, pulling at your senses, vying for your attention.

She groaned, a reluctant smile cracking through the weight of her melancholy. “I probably wouldn’t have let them leave. I might have chained them both to the bed.”

Could be fun, Arden chuckled, the warmth in the voice easing the tension. While you two were talking, I caught up with Riven, Rowan’s wolf. Apparently, Callum’s kicking himself for how he handled things. Bracken’s not letting him forget it.

Ivy sat up slowly, the tension in her chest easing. “It's it bad that I'm glad his wolf is giving him hell?” The thought of Callum, bristling with frustration but secretly caring, made her heart clench again. “Maybe working for them isn’t such a bad idea, huh? It couldn’t be worse than the diner.”

Arden’s voice softened, It’s something to consider. I know I wouldn’t mind being closer to them. And I think, deep down, you wouldn’t either.