Page 108 of What We Don't Say: Part Two

Idris looks at the bags, then back at her. “Then come eat.”

Sloane releases her only enough to guide her into the conference room, his hand staying low on her waist. Callie lets him steer her two steps before she glances back at me.

I hold up the cupcake box. “I protected dessert.”

“You protected it from everyone except yourself,” Dash says from inside the room. “One of the lemon ones is missing frosting.”

I look down at the box, betrayed by evidence I forgot to hide. “It was loose.”

Callie’s laugh escapes before she can stop it. Sloane’s face changes at the sound, and for a second the whole hallway seems to breathe around him.

Idris takes the box from me with grave care. “We’ll address dessert tampering after Callie eats.”

I follow them into the conference room, still watching Callie, loving the way our Alphas just immediately circle around her. The center always told me I’d want to be in the center of the pack but I want to be right here, watching my woman get every bit of love she deserves.

I chew on my bottom lip as Idris sits beside Callie, stares at the few inches between them and then pulls Callie’s chair closer to his before she sits. She looks down at the chair scraping over the carpet, then up at him, and the expression she gives him is half warning and half helpless affection. “You’re being a nuisance,” she whispers, a chuckle in her voice.

“Yes.” Idris sets the cupcakes at the far end of the table and takes the seat beside her. “You told us to bother you.”

“I said I wanted you to love me like before.”

“This is part of the service,” Sloane says, settling on her other side with one hand already on the back of her chair. “You submitted a broad request.”

Callie’s mouth opens, then closes again when Dash sets a container of soup in front of her and brushes a kiss to the top of her head before taking the seat across from Sloane. I brace myself as Sloane’s scent darkens but it takes me a moment to realize why.

The ache on Sloane’s face feels like a private moment, the Alpha seeing a version of Callie’s life he missed. Then Callie reaches beneath the table, and his hand disappears under the edge of it to meet her.

Lunch spreads across the conference table in quiet, practical pieces. Dash sets the sandwiches near the middle, Callie opensthe soup containers before the lids can steam themselves soft, and Idris has already placed water, fruit, and extra napkins within reach like he expected half of us to forget we have bodies.

Callie ends up between Idris and Dash, with me on Idris’ other side and Sloane tucked beside him. Sloane’s attention keeps finding her from across the curve of the table, and every time Callie catches him looking, she doesn’t look away. The first few moments still have a pause in them, a small check from him and a small answer from her body, but by the time Idris slides a bowl in front of her, Sloane has stopped looking like he expects the wanting to hurt her.

“You ate after class?” Idris asks, giving Callie a spoon before she can reach for one. His tone is mild, but his eyes stay on her face until she takes the first bite.

“I had coffee and half a granola bar,” Callie says, then points the spoon at him before he can speak. “And now I’m having soup, so you don’t get to make that face.”

Dash lowers into the chair beside her with his own sandwich. “That wasn’t half a granola bar. It was the corner of one.”

Callie turns toward him with betrayed eyes. “You were supposed to be on my side.”

“I’m beside you.” Dash reaches for a napkin and lays it near her bowl before she notices she needs it. “That’s different.”

Sloane leans forward from my other side, his eyes on Callie’s face. “Eat, baby. Then complain about betrayal.”

Callie does complain, but she does it around another bite of soup, which makes Idris look annoyingly satisfied. She tells them about the morning seminar, then about an Oakhaven administrator who scheduled two mandatory meetings at the same time and sent both reminders with cheerful punctuation. Halfway through the story, she stops with her spoon near her mouth and looks at Dash.

“Oh, hell.” Her cheeks color again, though this time it is mostly embarrassment. “She’s yours, isn’t she?”

Dash takes a drink of water before answering. “She’s the interim coordinator for my department.”

“I called her calendar a hostile act.”

“It is.” He reaches past her for one of the sandwich wrappers and folds it flat. “She also kept accreditation from falling into a hole last year, so we choose our battles.”

Callie starts laughing, and the sound loosens something at the table. Idris’ chair is close enough that his knee touches hers when she leans back, Dash’s shoulder brushes hers when he reaches for his drink, and Sloane keeps his hand low at her waist like he is remembering the shape of loving her in public one breath at a time.

I try to tell them about the grocery store while eating my sandwich, because the timing seems important and because nobody understands that Callie bought grapes after saying she didn’t even like grapes that much. The bread sticks to the roof of my mouth halfway through the explanation, and Sloane reaches over without looking away from Callie, wrapping one hand gently over my mouth.

“Chew,” he says.