Page 90 of What We Don't Say: Part Two

The pressure behind my eyes comes too quickly. I lower my face toward Callie’s hand, and Dash lets the tears happen without naming them or turning the silence into another question. One of his hands remains steady on Callie while the other waits beside my shoulder.

I lean into him.

His knuckles touch my upper arm first, then his palm settles there with careful weight. The touch is different from Sloane’s immediate pull or Idris' grounding grip. Dash offers the contact and leaves me free to decide how much of it I use, so I let my shoulder rest more firmly against his hand.

“She’s mine,” I say once my breathing evens out. The words carry no challenge. They are simply the truth my body has known since the first time Callie touched my hair and made the room feel quieter.

Dash doesn’t correct me or smile as though my claim is childish. He waits with his hand still on my arm, giving me enough space to finish.

I look at him across Callie’s sleeping body. “She’s yours too.”

Something moves across his face before he lowers his eyes. His hand flexes against my sleeve, and his other arm tightens around Callie by the smallest amount.

“Then I should stop treating every invitation like it expires when she falls asleep,” he says. His voice is rougher now, and the admission seems to cost him. “I’m still learning how to stay without turning the room into something I control.”

“You should stay when she reaches for you.” I shift closer until my shoulder rests against the side of the chair. “You should stay when I want you there too.”

Dash looks at me for a long moment, and the warmth under my skin softens beneath his attention. “Do you want me there because Callie does?”

“I want you there because the nest smells wrong when you leave.” I keep Callie’s hand against my cheek while I answer. “I want you close to her, and I want you close when my body is warm. I don’t want you acting like loving her makes you dangerous.”

Dash nods slowly. His thumb moves once over my sleeve, and I close my eyes while the three of us sit inside the quiet.

Callie wakes gradually, her fingers tightening around mine before her eyes open. She blinks up at Dash, then turns her head enough to find me beside the chair.

“You two okay?” she murmurs. Her voice is thick with sleep, and her thumb brushes the side of my hand as though she has already decided the answer matters.

“Dash is staying in the nest tonight,” I tell her. Warmth spreads through my chest again when I say it aloud. “He’s going to stop deciding your invitation ends before morning.”

Callie’s sleepy smile appears slowly. She tips her face back into Dash’s chest, her eyes already drifting closed again.

“Good,” she says. “It smells better with him there.”

Dash goes still beneath her, and I watch the words settle into the guarded line of his mouth and the careful set of his shoulders. He bends his head and presses a lingering kiss into Callie’s hair, remaining there until her breathing evens out again.

The warmth in me rises once more, strong enough that I move closer and press my face against Callie’s knee. Dash notices immediately, his hand sliding from my arm to the back of my shoulder.

“Do you need me to get them?” he asks. “Sloane and Idris are still in the office.”

“Not yet.” I breathe through the spike while Callie’s hand remains against my cheek. “They know where I am. I need an Alpha close, and you’re already here.”

Dash’s palm stays warm and steady against my shoulder. “Then I’ll stay until you decide the room needs to change.”

Callie shifts again, opening her eyes only long enough to tug weakly at my sleeve. I rise and let Dash help guide her from the chair, his arm supporting her while she stays half asleep against his chest. We move down the hall together, my hand in hers and Dash carrying most of her weight without acting as though the choice makes her helpless.

The nest is still warm when we reach it. Dash lowers Callie onto the blankets, then pauses at the edge with the old hesitation moving through his body. I pull back the blanket beside her and wait until he looks at me.

“Stay,” I say, and Callie reaches toward him before the word has fully left my mouth.

Dash hesitates another moment before climbing in beside her. Callie settles against his chest while I curl into the space against her back, one hand linked with hers beneath the blanket.

Theo

Morning comes in soft and gray, with the room warmer than it was when we crawled into the nest. Callie’s hand is still wrapped around mine beneath the blanket, and Dash is still behind her, one arm curved over her waist while her cheek rests against his chest.

The nest smells different with Dash in it through morning. His cedar has settled into the blankets instead of sitting on top of them like something temporary, and Callie’s scent is sleep-softwhere it folds around him. The place beside her doesn’t smell emptied out or careful or politely abandoned.

Callie stirs before Dash does, her fingers tightening around mine while her face turns into his shirt. Dash wakes almost immediately, his hand spreading over her waist before he opens his eyes all the way. He doesn’t move away from her when he realizes where he is, and something in my chest loosens so quickly I have to press my face into the blanket to keep the sound inside.