Page 133 of What We Don't Say: Part One

His expression changes at the word home, maybe because of the way I say it. He doesn't touch me. He only stands near enough that I know he could catch me if my knees finally give up. “Are you safe to drive?”

I laugh once, and it sounds nothing like me. “I don’t know what that means anymore.”

My phone buzzes before he can answer.

For one impossible second, I think it is Sloane. I think the nightmare has cracked, and his voice is about to come through the screen telling me to stay where I am, telling me Garrett misunderstood, telling me he is coming. But it isn't a call. It is a file from Sloane’s number, an audio clip with no message attached.

I shouldn’t play it standing in a campus parking lot with Dash Rivera watching my face go white. I play it anyway.

Sloane’s voice comes through low and rough, muffled like it was caught through a door. “Theo’s heat changed what the pack can carry. We can’t keep trying to make both things fit if it keeps hurting him.”

Then Idris, colder than I have ever heard him. “Callie can’t be in the middle of this. If we keep forcing it, the displacement gets worse.”

The clip ends.

My phone stays in my hand. The world keeps moving around me, students crossing the lot, a car door slamming somewhere behind me, Dash saying my name in a voice I can barely hear. The audio is too short. Too clean. Too impossible. Sloane wouldn't say that. Idris wouldn't say that. They wouldn't talkabout me like a piece of furniture that had been left in the wrong room.

A text arrives before I can breathe.

Baby, please read this before you react. Theo’s heat started harder than expected. He’s asking for you, but every time your scent comes up, he gets more confused. We need to keep the room clean for him right now.

I stare at the word baby until it blurs.

Another text follows.

I know what I promised you. I know. But dragging this out during his heat would be crueler. Please don’t come back to the house tonight. Let us get him through this first.

The third lands while I’m still standing there.

I’ll always love you, my heart. That’s why I’m asking you not to make me choose in front of him.

My heart does something terrible in my chest. It doesn't break cleanly. It folds. It tries to make room for the lie because the lie has Sloane’s words on it, Sloane’s rhythm close enough to bruise, Sloane’s private language turned into a blade I know by touch.

“This isn’t right,” I whisper.

Dash takes one step closer. “Calliope, who can I call for you?”

“Sloane.” I hit his name again, but this time the call doesn’t go to voicemail. It connects on the fourth ring, and my whole body jolts so hard Dash’s hand lifts like he nearly reaches for me.

“Callie,” Sloane says.

It is his voice.

My legs almost give out. I grip the car door handle and press the phone harder to my ear, shaking so violently my teeth knock once. “Sloane? Please, tell me this isn’t real. Tell me what’s happening.”

There is a pause. Not long. Long enough for me to feel the whole world lean into it.

“We’ll talk about the bite removal after Theo’s through the heat,” he says, soft in the places that know how to hurt me. “It’s not safe to do this right now.”

My shoulder goes cold.

“What?” I whisper.

“The money is to make sure you’re okay.”

“Sloane.” My voice turns into a sound I don't recognize. “You’re talking about my bite like it’s paperwork.”

“Don’t come home tonight,” he says. “Please don’t make this harder.”