Page 70 of What We Don't Say: Part One

“Easy,” Garrett says, rough from the call and from the morning still riding him. His hand is steady on Theo, firm without dragging him closer. “He’s sensitive.”

Calliope lowers her hand at once. “Right, sorry.”

Sloane’s arm tightens behind her chair, and his eyes cut to Garrett, then Theo, then Calliope’s face. He doesn’t speak immediately. The room is too charged for a fast Alpha reaction, and Sloane knows it even though the effort costs him.

Theo looks back at Calliope with worry gathering in his eyes.

“I’m okay,” she tells him, her voice soft and sure. She lets Sloane draw her closer until her shoulder rests against his chest, and she keeps her hands folded around her mug instead of reaching again. “Eat a little more for me, Star.”

Theo obeys after a hesitation. Garrett’s hand stays at his nape, and Sloane’s thumb moves slowly over Calliope’s shoulder while her hands remain folded around the mug.

I keep looking at the hand she lowered.

Calliope goes upstairs after we finish eating to change out of the damp blouse and comes back in soft pants and one of Sloane’s old shirts. She comes straight back to the dining room, presses a kiss to Sloane’s cheek when he reaches for her, and letshim pull her sideways into his lap for half a minute before she slides into the chair beside him.

Calliope notices Theo watching and smiles at him. “Still with me?”

Theo nods, then looks at Garrett’s hand before looking back at her. “Sit later?”

“Absolutely,” she says, and the answer comes easily. “I have student reports to finish, but I can do those on the couch if you don’t mind me complaining about formatting.”

Theo’s shoulders lower.

Sloane kisses the side of Calliope’s neck, careful and lingering. “I missed you.”

“I was gone for a morning.”

“I’m still allowed.”

She laughs under her breath and leans back into him without resistance. “Then miss me closer. I’m cold.”

Sloane wraps both arms around her at once, and she lets herself sink there, eyes closing for a second while his cheek rests against her hair. She's warm with him. Warm with all of us. The flinch at the table hasn’t made her brittle, and that matters. It also makes the small way her hand stays on her mug instead of reaching for Theo again feel sharper.

I wait until Theo is settled in the den with Garrett and Sloane nearby before I catch Calliope at the sink.

She's rinsing her mug, sleeves pushed up, damp hair braided loosely over one shoulder now. When I step in behind her, she turns into me without making me ask. Her forehead touches my chest, and my hand settles at the back of her neck.

“You’re quiet,” I say.

“I’m tired.” Her arms slide around my waist, and she breathes in against my shirt. “And I smell like rainwater, tire rubber, Sloane, and your soap. It’s been a textured morning.”

I press my mouth to her hair. “Why did you apologize at the table?”

Her fingers pause against my back, then keep moving in a slow stroke over my shirt. “Because I startled.”

“That’s all?”

“Garrett warned me, I startled, and Theo was already sensitive.” She lifts her head enough to look at me, her expression open rather than wounded. “I wasn’t hurt, Idris. I reached without asking when he’s this close to heat. I should’ve checked color or waited for him to come to me.”

“He was coming to you.”

“I know.” Her mouth softens. “And I love that. I’m not saying I wasn’t allowed to touch him. I’m saying I startled, and I didn’t want him to think he’d done something wrong.”

Her explanation fits too neatly around Garrett’s growl. I cup her jaw and brush my thumb along the place where rain cooled her skin earlier. “You’re sure you’re all right?”

“I’m sure.” She rises onto her toes and kisses me, soft and brief. “I promise. If I start spiraling over a growl at a breakfast table, you can be very stern and make me eat protein.”

“I already have permission to do that.”