Page 127 of What We Don't Say: Part One

Theo looks at him, then me, then the empty doorway behind Garrett. His eyes are heavy again, but the fear in them is awake. “Callie said she’d come home.”

“She did,” I say, and I make it sound like a promise instead of a prayer. “We remember.”

I stand slowly because fast movement makes Theo jump. Idris settles him back into the blankets, tucking the cooling cloth at his neck and putting Callie’s sweater under his cheek. Garrett waits until I’m on my feet, then turns for the hallway like this was his idea of restraint all along.

We stop just outside the sunroom door. Not the kitchen. Not the study. Not far enough for Theo’s breathing to leave my hearing. The hallway is narrow here, one side lined with framed photographs and the other opening back toward the foyer. I can see the edge of the nest if I turn my head. Idris stands nearthe doorway, close enough to step back in, close enough to put himself between the conversation and Theo if the next sentence lands wrong.

Garrett faces us with his sleeves rolled and his tie loosened, looking less polished now and more dangerous for it. “You need to get control of yourself before the next spike,” he says.

My laugh comes out without humor. “That’s what we’re calling it?”

“We’re calling it exactly what it is.” His voice stays low, but there’s heat under it now. “You’re over-sensitized from the spike, terrified because Calliope isn’t answering, and translating every practical decision into a threat.”

“You keep talking like her being gone is practical.”

“Her staying focused on the interview is practical.”

“Theo is asking for her.”

“Theo is close to his heat and asking for everything that feels soothing in the moment.” Garrett’s eyes flick to the doorway, then back to me. “That doesn’t mean every soothing thing is safe to give him.”

Idris’s jaw tightens. “Calliope isn’t a thing.”

“No,” Garrett says. “She’s a Beta with her own career, her own emotional limits, and no biological capacity to anchor an Omega through a full heat. I’m trying to keep her from being dragged into a role that will hurt her and destabilize him.”

The words land with the same soft wrongness as the foyer, the same polished concern that made Callie’s eyes fill before she left. My hands curl at my sides. I can still feel Theo’s tremor in my palms, still smell Callie fading out of that sweater, still hear the empty ring of her voicemail in my skull.

“You keep saying that like it’s kindness,” I say. “She cried before she left because every kind thing you said made her feel pushed out.”

Garrett’s face softens too fast. “Calliope was overwhelmed.”

“No.” My voice rises, and I force it back down because Theo is half a room away. “Don’t turn it into something that happened inside her for no reason. She felt pushed because you pushed.”

Garrett looks at Idris. “You’re letting his panic drive this conversation.”

Idris’s eyes don’t move from Garrett’s face. “I don’t know what the fuck is going on here.”

That stops him.

It stops me too, because Idris doesn’t swear like that unless something has gone very, very wrong under his skin.

Idris steps half an inch farther into the hall, still close enough to hear Theo breathe. “I keep looking at the pieces and telling myself I’m missing one because the alternative makes this house uglier than I want it to be. Theo tells us he wasn’t scared of Calliope, and you keep translating him. Calliope says your reassurance makes her feel smaller, and you call her overwhelmed. Sloane feels command pressure with no audible bark, and you call him emotional. Now you’re standing here with your sleeves rolled like you’re about to take Callie’s place in the nest and telling us her absence is stability.”

Garrett’s mouth tightens. “I’m not taking anyone’s place.”

“Then why does every explanation you give end with her outside the room?” Idris asks.

For a second, Garrett has nothing smooth ready.

That is when I see it. Not guilt. Not confession. Irritation. A flash of anger that breaks through because Idris has touched the wrong seam in the argument and Garrett can’t get the fabric flat fast enough.

“I'm the head Alpha of this pack,” Garrett says, each word controlled. “When an Omega approaches heat, I'm responsible for the structure that keeps him safe. That includes making decisions the rest of you are too compromised to make cleanly.”

“Compromised,” I repeat.

“Yes, Sloane.” His eyes snap to mine. “Compromised. You’re bonded to Calliope, territorial over Theo, and too tangled in both to see that your fear of failing her is making you reckless with him.”

Something in my chest goes cold and bright. “Don’t talk about my bond like you understand it.”