Page 29 of What We Don't Say: Part One

Andrea’s mouth tightens. “Closing language helps with practice.”

“We’ll build that later,” Garrett says. “Today, staying was enough.”

Theo looks at him. Really looks. Then he turns to Callie.

She opens her hand beside the book, palm up. Theo presses the yellow card into it for one second, letting her feel the shape of the thing that helped him speak without speaking. Then he takes it back, folds it carefully into his pocket, and stands. When he steps away from her, cardamom and peach blossom stay caught in Callie’s sleeve.

We walk to the foyer without crowding him. Garrett stays with Andrea, speaking low enough that Theo doesn’t have to treat the conversation like another task. Idris remains at my side, his hand brushing my back once when my Alpha pushes too hard under my skin. Callie walks beside Theo, and he keeps one finger hooked in her sleeve until the front door opens.

At the threshold, Theo stops. Andrea is already halfway down the porch step, but Garrett waits beside the open door and gives Theo room to turn. He looks at Callie first.

“Bye, Theo,” she says.

His mouth opens. The word doesn’t come, but Callie’s smile stays with him anyway. Theo’s eyes move to Idris, then me, then Garrett. I lift one hand, slow and small, and his fingers twitch at his side before Andrea calls his name from the walk. He steps off the porch and follows her to the van.

Callie stays in the doorway until the van disappears down the drive. I stay behind her with my hands loose at my sides, breathing through the last of the buffer and the heat under my skin. Theo is gone, but the house still has pieces of him in it: lemon crumbs near his plate, the plant book left open in thesunroom, the faint bend in Callie’s cardigan cuff where his finger held on.

Garrett closes the door and rests his hand on the latch for a moment before turning back to us. “That was a strong first visit.”

Callie turns toward us with her whole face lit. “He said please and stayed after the yellow card.” Her smile flickers softer, but it doesn’t disappear. I put one hand against the wall before I trust myself to touch her. The sound of her voice, Theo’s card, Andrea’s commands, the brush of Theo’s fingers against my palm, all of it pulls through me at once.

Callie sees it and crosses the foyer, putting her hand over mine where it rests against the wall. “You stayed still so long I think it hurt.”

I look down at her. “A lot of things hurt, baby.”

Her fingers close around mine. “Then sit down.”

Garrett’s gaze moves from her to me. “Let’s move this to the study,” he says.

Garrett takes the armchair instead of the desk, tablet on the side table with the screen dark. Idris sits on the couch but doesn’t sink back, one ankle braced, attention still working through the visit. I sit beside him with my knees spread and both hands loose between them while Callie stands in front of me, still full of the visit in a way she doesn’t seem to know how to set down.

She steps between my knees and climbs into my lap before I reach for her. The first breath I take with her weight against me almost takes my voice with it. My arms close around her waist, and she settles in like she knows exactly how much of me has been held back all afternoon.

Her fingers slide into my hair. I press my face to her shoulder, cardamom and peach blossom clinging to the knit of her cardigan, tucked into the sleeve he kept finding, caught near the place where her hair brushed her shoulder.

Callie goes still the second she feels me notice. “I’m sorry,” she whispers.

“Come here,” I murmur, even though she’s already in my arms. I hold her closer, my hand covering the stretched place in her sleeve. “He kept finding you all afternoon.” I kiss her temple, then the side of her head. “You should’ve seen your face every time he did.”

Callie’s fingers tighten in my hair. She doesn’t answer, but some of the stiffness leaves her body, and I keep my hand over her sleeve while the room settles around us.

Idris leans forward with his forearms on his knees, attention on Garrett now. “I want to talk about the card.”

Callie turns her head against my shoulder. “The yellow one?”

“Before that, he was overwhelmed, but he was still with us,” Idris says. “Eating, looking around, answering when he could. Andrea gave him a command, and he needed the card.” His mouth tightens. “We have to be careful not to push before he’s ready.”

“Which means we let Theo lead,” I say. Callie shifts in my lap, and my arm tightens around her before I can stop it, my hand still covering the sleeve Theo held. “It has to be his show. What he wants comes first.”

No one in the room misses where my hand is when I say it. Garrett doesn’t challenge me as he leans back in the chair, one finger resting near the dark tablet. “Agreed.”

That surprises me enough that I look at him fully. Garrett’s attention moves from Idris to Callie. “I spoke with Andrea in the hallway earlier,” Garrett says. “She expected more verbal locking and less independent response. She also mentioned how quickly he settled near Calliope.”

Callie’s fingers pause in my hair. I kiss her temple again, slower this time.

Garrett sees it. “I don’t like the way Andrea handled him,” he says before the pause can turn into something uglier. “I don’t like the visible-hands correction, and I don’t like closing practice that turns the end of a visit into another performance. I’ll address it before she comes back.”

Idris nods once. “Good.”