11. Sloane
Sloane
The scent buffer dries tight against my throat, thin enough that I can still feel my Alpha pressing under it and strong enough to keep him from filling the kitchen every time Theo looks scared.
I hate the faint film on my wrists. I hate the way it makes my own body feel muffled.
I put it on anyway after Garrett handed it to me with Theo already on the way, and now I’m sitting at the far end of the island with both feet planted, my hands around a mug I haven’t taken a sip from, trying to look like a man who knows how to stay still.
Theo is still working through the lemon bar Callie gave him.
He has powdered sugar on one thumb, crumbs on the edge of his plate, and two fingers hooked in the cuff of Callie’s cardigan like he’s pretending he isn’t holding on.
Callie stands beside his stool with one hip against the island, close enough for him to reach without making a display of leaving herself there.
“There are napkins right there,” she says, tapping the counter once beside a folded stack. “And more lemon bars in the container. The second one’s sweeter, so you might want tea with it.”
Theo’s eyes flick to the napkins. His fingers tighten in her cuff before he reaches with his free hand, then stops halfway there and glances toward Andrea.
Andrea looks up from the tablet balanced against her knee. “Just like we practiced, Theo. Ask or point.”
The napkin is four inches from his hand.
I see the way the instruction changes his shoulders, how his whole body pauses around the shape of a task that was simple before it had rules attached.
My fingers tighten around the mug, and Idris’ gaze cuts toward me from the other side of the island before I can make the ceramic complain.
Theo points instead of speaking. Callie slides the napkin closer like it’s the most normal thing in the world, her hand smooth and unhurried as she leaves it near his plate.
“There you go,” she says.
His hand closes around it, and the breath he lets out is small enough that I almost miss it. Callie doesn’t. Her smile widens, bright and open, and Theo sees it before he looks back down at his plate. The tips of his ears go red.
Garrett stands near the kitchen entrance with his jacket unbuttoned, attention moving between Theo and Andrea. “Is the kitchen still working for you, Theo, or would you rather try somewhere with less noise?”
Theo looks at the hallway, then at Callie’s sleeve.
The room waits without going silent enough to feel like an exam.
Idris moves a glass away from the edge of the counter with two fingers, easy enough that it reads as tidying rather than intervention, and Callie nudges the lemon bar plate half an inch closer to Theo’s elbow.
“Kitchen,” Theo whispers.
Garrett nods. “Kitchen it is.”
Andrea’s stylus taps once against the tablet screen. “Good.”
Theo’s hand jumps at the sound. His fingers slip from Callie’s cuff to the hem of her cardigan, then wander higher, careful as a secret, brushing the seam near her wrist. Callie keeps talking to Garrett about which plants are alive in the sunroom, but her face changes the second Theo touches her again.
She beams before she can stop herself, and Theo freezes with his fingers still in the knit.
I set my mug down before I grip it any harder. “Do you need anything over there?” I ask, keeping my voice low enough that it won’t drag him across the room toward me. “Water? More room?”
Theo looks at me for half a second, then back at Callie. His mouth twitches like an answer gets close to forming and loses its way.
Andrea shifts on her stool. “Words if you can, Theo.”
Whatever almost happened on Theo’s face disappears.
Idris sets his hand against the back of the chair beside him. “Andrea.” He waits until she looks at him, his posture still and his voice even. “He heard the question.”
The room sharpens around him, and Theo’s gaze drops to his plate. Idris doesn’t add anything else. He leaves the warning where it lands and keeps his hand on the chair, fingers relaxed, his attention back on Theo instead of making Andrea carry the moment.
Theo’s fingers move from the napkin to Callie’s cardigan again.
They climb slowly to one loose piece of her hair where it rests near her shoulder, and he touches the end with the very tip of one finger.
Callie’s mouth parts around a breath she doesn’t release.
Her happiness is all over her face, open enough that I have to look down at my hands.
Andrea’s chair creaks. “Theo, hands where people can see them. Just like we practiced.”
Theo goes still, and the hair slips from his finger.
His hand drops to his lap. For one long second, I think he’s only going to fold in on himself the way he did in the foyer, but then he reaches into the front pocket of his hoodie with a movement too practiced to be hesitation and pulls out a yellow card.
My mug hits the island harder than I mean it to.
Theo’s eyes snap to the sound, and I open both hands on the counter, forcing my anger down before he has to carry that too.
Callie’s smile is gone now. Her hand stays on the island beside his plate, palm loose, her eyes on Theo while he holds the card against his chest.
Garrett steps away from the doorway. “Andrea, there’s no reason he needs to show his hands here. However he feels comfortable is just fine. Demanding more of him is unnecessary.”
Andrea’s fingers tighten around the tablet. “That’s how we’ve been practicing it.”
“Then we’re changing the practice while he’s here,” Garrett says. His gaze drops once to the yellow card, then returns to Theo’s face. “He used the card. We respect it.”
Theo holds the card against his chest with both hands, eyes lowered. His throat works once, and the sound that comes out of him is barely there. Idris’s jaw flexes as he looks from the card to Andrea, his hand still braced on the back of the chair.
“We have to be careful not to push before he’s ready,” Idris says.
Callie turns her hand palm up on the island beside Theo’s plate. “You can keep it out,” she says. “Or put it away. Whatever feels better.”
Theo looks at her hand for a long time. The yellow card stays pressed against his hoodie, bright against the dark fabric.
Then he slides it onto the counter beside his plate, tucks one hand into his sleeve, and hooks one finger back into Callie’s cuff.
Cardamom eases into the lemon-sugar air as his shoulders drop, faint but there.
Callie’s smile comes back slowly. She doesn’t make it too big this time, but Theo still sees it, and his finger curls deeper into the knit.
“The sunroom is quieter,” Callie says, keeping her wrist where he has it. “Plants, books, more light, less kitchen noise.”
Garrett glances from Theo to the hallway. “Would you like to see it before Andrea takes you back, or would you rather stay here a little longer?”
Theo looks at Callie first. She lifts one shoulder, easy and open, like she’ll go wherever he decides.
“Sunroom,” Theo says, quiet but clear.
Andrea’s stylus moves against the tablet, but she doesn’t speak. Garrett steps away from the kitchen entrance and gives Theo a clear path to the hall.
“Sunroom, then,” Garrett says.
Theo slides off the stool with the yellow card in one hand and Callie’s sleeve still held by the other. Callie waits until he has his footing, then turns with him instead of taking the lead.
We leave the kitchen in a loose line, Garrett ahead with Andrea while Callie walks beside Theo. Idris stays near me for the first few steps, close enough that his shoulder almost brushes mine, his attention still on Theo’s hand where it grips Callie’s sleeve.
“Keep the anger behind your teeth,” Idris murmurs. “He’s watching everything.”
I nod once, jaw tight enough to ache. Idris doesn’t soften the order, and I don’t need him to. Theo has already had one person put a rule where comfort should have been. He doesn’t need my Alpha making the hallway heavier because I hate the way the card looked in his hands.
The sunroom is bright when we step inside, late afternoon catching on the glass and spilling across the shelves of plants Callie keeps in various states of survival.
A blanket is folded over the wicker loveseat.
Two books sit on the side table, and one of Callie’s hair ties is looped around the watering can handle.
Theo stops just past the threshold. He looks at the plants first, then the books, then the windows. His finger tightens in Callie’s sleeve, and she shifts closer without making him tug her there.
“That one’s dramatic,” Callie says, nodding toward a trailing plant on the middle shelf. “It drops leaves if I move it three inches to the left.”
Theo stares at the plant. His hand lifts, then lowers again, the yellow card bending slightly between his fingers.
“You can touch a leaf,” Callie says. “It won’t mind.”
He reaches out with one finger and brushes the end of a heart-shaped leaf. The leaf bends under the contact. Theo snatches his hand back and looks at Callie like he expects her face to change.
Callie smiles. “See? Dramatic.”
A breath leaves him, almost a laugh. It isn’t much, but it hits me square in the chest. I lower myself into the wicker chair before I can think too hard about moving closer, keeping one hand open on my knee while Theo watches me from Callie’s side.
Idris stops near the shelf, close enough to see the plant without stepping into Theo’s path. “There’s a book for most of these,” he says, nodding toward the side table. “Sloane can hand it over.”
I pick up the plant book and hold it out flat in my palm. “Pictures are in the front.”
Theo hesitates. His finger tightens in Callie’s cuff, then loosens. He takes one step toward me, then another, and when he reaches for the book, his skin brushes my palm for less than a second before he pulls it to his chest.