Page 129 of What We Don't Say: Part Two

He has taken off his glasses, and the damp from outside has curled the hair near his temples. His gaze moves from Idris' bite on my shoulder to Theo’s permanent mark, then settles on my face.

Something quiet passes through his expression before he smooths it away. He is happy for us. I can see that clearly, but there is an ache beneath it that catches somewhere behind my ribs.

Sloane shifts aside enough to make room for him. Dash comes closer and crouches beside the tub, one hand resting on the edge while the other brushes wet hair away from my cheek.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

“Tired.” I cover his hand with mine. “Good.”

His thumb moves once against my skin. He looks at the new bite again, then returns his gaze to me without asking for anything.

“Whenever you are ready, Callie,” he says.

The patience in the words hurts more than pressure ever could. Dash has waited through every reunion, every old bond opening, and every piece of the pack settling around me. He has made room without pretending he does not want a place of his own.

I reach for him. Dash leans closer, and I draw him into a kiss over the edge of the tub. His mouth is cool from outside, but it warms quickly against mine as his hand slides to the back of my neck. I kiss him until the ache in his expression softens and his breath catches against my lips.

Idris

Callie’s happiness reaches me before I enter the kitchen. It moves through the fresh bond in warm, uneven waves, brightening whenever someone touches her and settling into something softer when she turns back to the mixing bowl. Theo’s contentment threads beneath it, sweeter and more restless, while Sloane’s affection pushes through both bonds with enough force that I know where he is standing before I round the corner.

He is behind Callie with one hand spread over her hip and his mouth pressed to the side of her neck. Flour marks the front ofher sweater, and another pale streak crosses her cheek where she must have brushed at her hair. She tries to reach for the measuring cup without dislodging him, then gives up and leans back against his chest while he kisses the edge of my bite.

The pleasure that moves through her catches beneath my ribs. Sloane feels it too, his satisfaction warming the bond a moment before his mouth curves against her skin.

Theo is perched on the stool beside them with a spoon between his lips. He has one of Callie’s cardigans folded across his lap rather than wrapped around himself, and the fact that he asked for it this morning had pleased her enough that the feeling still lingers inside me.

Dash stands at the opposite counter cutting chocolate into smaller pieces. He glances up when I enter, and although no bond carries his mood to me, I see the calm in the set of his shoulders and the way he has placed himself close enough to Callie without crowding her.

“You were supposed to keep him away from the batter,” Callie tells Sloane, nodding toward Theo.

Theo removes the spoon from his mouth and looks down at the nearly empty bowl beside him. “You gave it to me.”

“I gave you the spoon after I finished mixing.”

“There was still batter on it.” He runs one finger around the inside of the bowl and brings it to his mouth, watching Callie as though waiting to see whether she will take it away.

She does not. Her amusement moves through me at the same moment Sloane’s hand tightens on her hip, and the combined warmth forces me to pause near the doorway.

Had Garrett succeeded, I would never have known this.

The thought enters quietly enough that it takes a moment to recognize its shape. Garrett came close to leaving Callie alone with the belief that Sloane had stopped loving her, while Theo remained trapped in a house where every instinct he had wastranslated by someone else. He used my silence, my patience, and my refusal to act before I believed every condition was perfect.

If Callie had not survived long enough to question what she had been told, I would have carried an absence I could not name for the rest of my life. I would never have felt her pleasure settle into me when Sloane kissed her, or Theo’s delight at being included, or the fierce tenderness Sloane held for both of them.

Callie looks over her shoulder and finds me standing there. Her expression softens, and the bond opens wider before she turns in Sloane’s arms and reaches for me.

“Come here,” she says.

I cross the kitchen and place one hand at the back of her neck. Her body yields toward mine before I kiss her, and Sloane remains pressed against her back, keeping her held between us while my mouth moves over hers.

The new bite rests warm beneath the collar of her sweater. I touch the skin beside it with my thumb, and the pleasure that moves through her carries a smaller flare of tenderness from Sloane.

Theo abandons his stool and presses against Callie’s side. He tucks his face near her shoulder, careful of the healing bite, while his fingers close around the hem of her sweater.

Dash remains near the counter with the knife lowered against the cutting board. His mouth softens as he watches us, and I feel the absence of his bond more sharply because everyone else is moving through me.

He is the only person in the room I can't feel.