Page 60 of What We Don't Say: Part One

Me: I’ll be there in a minute.

The dots appear almost immediately, then vanish. A few seconds later, they come back.

Theo: Good.

I breathe out through my nose, smiling down at the screen like an idiot.

Mara’s gaze drops briefly to my bag, to the cream folder sticking out beside my laptop. “Are you going to tell them about Halston tonight?”

My thumb goes still on the edge of my phone. “Maybe.” I touch the folder because not touching it somehow makes it feel louder. “Garrett already saw the email when I printed the packet this morning, so it’s not exactly a secret.”

“That doesn’t mean you’ve talked about it,” Mara says.

“I know.” I look through the rain-streaked windshield toward the glow of my street. “I will. Just not the second I walk in the door.”

Mara pulls up to the stop sign at the end of my street, and her gaze flicks to me again. “Callie.”

“I know,” I say, though I’m not sure what I’m agreeing to. My voice comes out too quiet, so I tuck the phone against my thigh and look toward the wet blur of houses. “It’s just nice.”

“It’s more than nice.” Mara doesn’t push the words hard. She lets them sit between us while the wipers move rain off the glass. “You feel different when it’s him.”

My throat tightens, and I stare at the glowing windows of my house as they come into view. “He’s settling with everyone. He’s been with all of them.”

“I believe you.” Mara turns into the drive and parks behind the hedges, leaving the engine on while the rain ticks over the roof. “I’m talking about you.”

The words hit too close, so I reach for the safer thing. “I saw him this morning, but I barely had any time with him. He came to my room, and later Garrett had him in the office while I was getting ready to leave.”

Mara’s eyebrows lift, and I feel heat climb my neck before she says a word.

“I didn’t see what happened in the office,” I say too quickly. “I heard enough to know Theo was okay, and then I left for campus before I could be weird about it.”

Mara’s mouth curves, but she keeps her voice gentle. “Garrett does have that effect on a room.”

“Garrett and I aren’t like that.” I say it without looking away from the house, because the distinction matters and because I don’t want her teasing it into something messy. “He’s pack. He’s safe. Theo likes him.”

“I know.” Mara reaches over and squeezes my wrist, her thumb warm against my damp sleeve. “Your house sounds full. You sound happy when you talk about all of them.”

I sit with that for a breath. The house is bright through the rain, and my body is already leaning toward it. I want the kitchen. I want Sloane’s voice and Idris at the stove. I want Garrett’s calm from whatever room he’s claimed. I want Theo’s careful texts to turn back into his hands.

“I'm happy,” I say, and the truth of it leaves me a little exposed.

Mara lets go of my wrist. “Then go inside before he sends another update and you start crying in my car.”

A laugh slips out of me, softer than the joke deserves. My phone buzzes again before I can reach for the door, and Theo’s name lights the screen.

Theo: Are you here?

My answer comes easily.

Me: I’m coming in now.

I get out with my bag over my shoulder and my phone still in my hand. Mara waits until I reach the porch before she pulls away, and I stand under the overhang for one extra second, looking at Theo’s last message while dinner and pack warmth wait on the other side of the door.

The lock sticks for half a breath before it gives, and I make a note to mention it to Idris again even though I know he will say he already fixed it once and then fix it again. Heat rolls out from the kitchen the moment I step inside, carrying garlic, lemon, browned butter, and the deeper layered scents of the people I have been trying not to miss out loud all day. My shoulders drop before I even get my coat off.

Sloane’s voice reaches me first, low and amused from the kitchen. “You’re going to have to tell her you found it. I’m not taking credit for the bowl after you nearly took my hand off over it.”

A softer sound answers him, too quiet to be words from this distance, but it pulls me forward faster than anything else could. My bag slips on my shoulder as I toe out of my shoes, and I don't bother hanging my coat properly. I drop it over the mudroom bench, still holding my phone, and follow the voices.