Page 125 of What We Don't Say: Part Two

“I noticed,” I say, letting my head rest against Idris' shoulder. “Sloane told me so many details that I know which entrance he used.”

“He is trying to make ambiguity impossible.” Idris offers me another piece of fruit, and his fingers linger against my lower lip when I take it. “Subtlety has never been his preferred method.”

Theo smiles into his arm. The expression is quiet and fond, and I reach down to comb my fingers through the hair at the back of his neck.

“What happens when we go back?” he asks.

The question is soft enough that I almost miss it. Idris' hand stills against the bowl, and Theo keeps his eyes on the blanket while his fingers work at a loose thread near my ankle.

“Back where?” I ask, although I think I understand.

“The house.” Theo pulls the thread once before letting it go. “The old one.”

Idris sets the bowl aside. His arm tightens around me without dragging me closer, and I feel the change in him through every point of contact between us.

“We don't have to go back there,” he says. “Some of our things are still inside, but none of us need to live there again.”

Theo looks toward the window. “The attic nest is there.”

“We can bring anything you want from it,” I tell him. “The blankets, the lamp, the books you hid behind the loose board. We can rebuild it somewhere else.”

His eyes lift to mine. “Here?”

The question carries more than the attic. I hear it in the way his voice catches around the single word and see it in the hand he presses into the nest beneath him.

“If Dash wants us here,” I say. “We have not asked him what he wants permanently.”

Idris' palm moves slowly over my stomach beneath my sweater. “Dash has spent the last week converting his office intoa security room and adding storage to every bedroom. I suspect his answer will not surprise you.”

A smile pulls at my mouth. I picture Dash standing in the hall with a measuring tape, insisting the new shelves are a practical improvement rather than evidence that four people have already taken over his home.

Theo pushes himself onto his knees. “We need a larger nest.”

“We need a larger bed,” I say.

“We need both.” He looks around the pillows with renewed purpose, already measuring the room with his eyes. “The wall can move.”

“I don't believe Dash will let you remove a wall without a conversation.”

Theo crawls closer and folds himself across my legs. His cheek presses to my thigh, and his fingers slip beneath the hem of my sweater as though contact will make his plans more convincing.

Idris picks up the bowl again, but his attention has shifted. His hand slides from my stomach to my hip and rests there while he feeds me another peach slice. The touch is familiar enough that I relax into it before I realize his thumb has begun tracing the line beneath the waistband of my skirt.

Theo notices before I look down. His gaze follows Idris' hand, dark eyes soft and intent, while the sweetness of his scent thickens around us.

Idris kisses beneath my ear. “Tell me when you want me to stop.”

The words settle through me with the controlled weight I have missed. They don't close anything inside me or push me toward obedience before I can decide. They give the next choice to me and wait.

“I don't want you to stop,” I say.

His fingers move beneath the waistband and spread across the bare skin of my lower stomach. My breath catches, and Idris'mouth curves against my neck before he presses a slower kiss to the same place.

Theo remains stretched across my legs, watching. The temporary bite at his shoulder is flushed beneath the loose collar of Sloane’s sweatshirt, and his breathing has grown shallow enough that I can see each rise of his back.

Idris feeds me another piece of peach while his hand travels lower. The contrast makes heat gather through me, sweet juice on my tongue and the firm pressure of his fingers moving beneath my clothes. I turn my face toward him, and he meets me halfway, taking my mouth in a kiss that starts slow and deepens when I lean back into his chest.

The bowl disappears from his hand. I hear it settle somewhere beyond the blankets before both his arms close around me, one hand returning to my stomach while the other cups my jaw.