Page 98 of What We Don't Say: Part Two

“What do you need from us now?” Idris asks, his voice direct enough that the answer does not feel like something I have to build for everyone else.

“Come back to bed,” I say, and he places his phone facedown beside Sloane’s before lowering himself onto the mattress.

Idris reaches for Sloane before settling beside me. His hand closes around the back of Sloane’s neck, and Sloane turns into him without hesitation, one arm wrapping around Idris' waist as their mouths meet. The kiss is deep and unhurried, carrying the fear that brought Sloane upstairs and the relief of finding everyone still within reach. Idris presses his forehead to Sloane’s when they part, and Sloane keeps his hand beneath Idris' shirt for another breath before they turn back toward me together.

Dash brings the tray to the nightstand and makes sure the water is within reach, then circles toward the other side of the bed. Theo wakes as the mattress shifts around him, blinking slowly before his fingers close around my shirt.

“Everyone moved,” he murmurs, looking from Sloane to Idris and then toward Dash.

“They came back,” I tell him, running my fingers through his hair while Idris settles beside us.

Relief moves through Theo’s face before he pushes himself upright enough to reach for Idris. Idris gathers him close and kisses his temple, and Theo keeps one hand wrapped around my wrist as though he needs both points of contact at once.

Dash settles near my legs, leaving space until I extend my foot toward him. His hand closes around my ankle with familiar warmth, and his thumb moves slowly over the bone while I try to explain that I don't want everyone reporting every walk to the kitchen.

“I also don't know how to stop my body from hearing an empty bed as something final,” I admit.

Idris keeps Theo against his chest and tells me they can say where they are going before they move. If I am asleep, they can leave a note where my hand will find it or wake me long enough to give me the information.

Dash shifts closer and rests his forearm across my shins. “You can come find me too,” he says. “You never have to decide whether wanting someone back in the room is reasonable enough to ask.”

Sloane’s arm tightens slightly around me as he tells me I don't have to choose which version of safe I am allowed to keep. Wanting Dash beside me does not take anything from him, and wanting Idris or Theo does not mean he has lost his place.

Dash looks toward Sloane, and pain moves briefly through both of them without either man handing it to me. He says he will speak for himself when something hurts, and I will not have to shrink one relationship to protect another.

Theo lifts his head from Idris' chest, his hair falling across his eyes while sleep still softens his face. He tells me he wants me when he is warm, when he is sleepy, when breakfast is bad, and when Sloane talks too much in the kitchen.

Sloane’s mouth moves against my hair, though he keeps the sound inside him and lets Theo finish. Theo holds my gaze while he says he wants me when nothing is wrong, and I don't have to wait for him to panic before I believe it.

The tears come quietly then. Idris shifts as if he wants to reach for me, but he waits until I extend my hand across the bed, and his fingers close around mine.

The fear remains, though it loosens enough for something warmer to move around it. I look at the men surrounding me and realize I want more than reassurance; I want their mouths, their hands, and the physical proof of everyone remaining present while desire moves through the room without becoming another crisis.

“I want you close,” I say, my voice low but steady enough for everyone to hear. “I want tonight to keep going.”

Sloane turns his face toward mine and asks me what that means. I answer by kissing him, and his mouth opens beneath mine while his hand stays flat against my stomach, letting me choose the pressure and the pace.

When I pull back, his breathing is rougher, though he waits. I look at Dash, Idris, and Theo before telling them I want all of them and want to stop thinking long enough to feel that they are here.

Idris' gaze darkens while his voice remains controlled. He reminds me that my no remains mine and asks me to tell them if anything changes, and I answer that I understand and still want this.

Sloane is the first to move when I lean toward him again. He kisses me deeply, mouth open and warm, one hand steady at the side of my face while the other rests over my stomach where I placed it earlier. The praise comes soft against my lips between kisses.

“You’re here. You’re choosing this. We’ve got you.”

I answer by pulling him closer. Theo shifts against my side, still half-asleep but already reaching, and I turn my head so he can kiss me too. His mouth is softer, hungrier in a quieter way, and he makes a small pleased sound when I keep one hand in hishair. Dash moves up from my legs, settling along my other side so that I am surrounded without being crowded. His hand finds the outside of my thigh, familiar and sure, the same touch he has used for months when the nights were only his.

Idris stays where he can see all of us. His voice remains low and even.

“Breathe, Callie. Tell us if you need slower. Tell us if you need more.”

“More,” I say.

They undress me together, but I stay in the middle of it. Sloane works the buttons of my sleep shirt while checking my face after each one. Theo helps ease the fabric from my shoulders, kissing the skin he uncovers. Dash slides my pants down only after I lift my hips for him. When I am bare they pause, four sets of eyes on me, and the attention feels like warmth instead of exposure.

Sloane’s mouth returns to mine, then moves to my throat, my collarbone, the upper curve of my breast. He praises every soft sound I make.

“That’s it. Let us hear you. You’re allowed.”