45. Idris
Idris
Callie’s happiness reaches me before I enter the kitchen.
It moves through the fresh bond in warm, uneven waves, brightening whenever someone touches her and settling into something softer when she turns back to the mixing bowl.
Theo’s contentment threads beneath it, sweeter and more restless, while Sloane’s affection pushes through both bonds with enough force that I know where he is standing before I round the corner.
He is behind Callie with one hand spread over her hip and his mouth pressed to the side of her neck.
Flour marks the front of her sweater, and another pale streak crosses her cheek where she must have brushed at her hair.
She tries to reach for the measuring cup without dislodging him, then gives up and leans back against his chest while he kisses the edge of my bite.
The pleasure that moves through her catches beneath my ribs. Sloane feels it too, his satisfaction warming the bond a moment before his mouth curves against her skin.
Theo is perched on the stool beside them with a spoon between his lips. He has one of Callie’s cardigans folded across his lap rather than wrapped around himself, and the fact that he asked for it this morning had pleased her enough that the feeling still lingers inside me.
Dash stands at the opposite counter cutting chocolate into smaller pieces. He glances up when I enter, and although no bond carries his mood to me, I see the calm in the set of his shoulders and the way he has placed himself close enough to Callie without crowding her.
“You were supposed to keep him away from the batter,” Callie tells Sloane, nodding toward Theo.
Theo removes the spoon from his mouth and looks down at the nearly empty bowl beside him. “You gave it to me.”
“I gave you the spoon after I finished mixing.”
“There was still batter on it.” He runs one finger around the inside of the bowl and brings it to his mouth, watching Callie as though waiting to see whether she will take it away.
She does not. Her amusement moves through me at the same moment Sloane’s hand tightens on her hip, and the combined warmth forces me to pause near the doorway.
Had Garrett succeeded, I would never have known this.
The thought enters quietly enough that it takes a moment to recognize its shape.
Garrett came close to leaving Callie alone with the belief that Sloane had stopped loving her, while Theo remained trapped in a house where every instinct he had was translated by someone else.
He used my silence, my patience, and my refusal to act before I believed every condition was perfect.
If Callie had not survived long enough to question what she had been told, I would have carried an absence I could not name for the rest of my life.
I would never have felt her pleasure settle into me when Sloane kissed her, or Theo’s delight at being included, or the fierce tenderness Sloane held for both of them.
Callie looks over her shoulder and finds me standing there. Her expression softens, and the bond opens wider before she turns in Sloane’s arms and reaches for me.
“Come here,” she says.
I cross the kitchen and place one hand at the back of her neck. Her body yields toward mine before I kiss her, and Sloane remains pressed against her back, keeping her held between us while my mouth moves over hers.
The new bite rests warm beneath the collar of her sweater. I touch the skin beside it with my thumb, and the pleasure that moves through her carries a smaller flare of tenderness from Sloane.
Theo abandons his stool and presses against Callie’s side. He tucks his face near her shoulder, careful of the healing bite, while his fingers close around the hem of her sweater.
Dash remains near the counter with the knife lowered against the cutting board. His mouth softens as he watches us, and I feel the absence of his bond more sharply because everyone else is moving through me.
He is the only person in the room I can't feel.
That does not make him difficult to read. His attention follows Callie’s breathing, Theo’s grip on her sweater, and the pressure of Sloane’s hand at her waist. He watches because he has learned the shape of their comfort without requiring a bond to guide him.
Callie pulls back from the kiss and rests her forehead against my chin. “You are staring at everyone.”
“I am adjusting.”
“To what?” Her fingers move over my wrist, tracing the edge of the band paired with her bracelet.
I look at Sloane, who is still holding her, then at Theo pressed against her side. Their love reaches me in different forms, neither of them quiet enough to mistake for anything else.
“To hearing all of you at once,” I say.
Callie’s expression changes. The warmth inside the bond deepens, and she lifts her hand to touch my face before kissing me again.
Sloane presses his mouth to the back of her head. “How loud am I?”
“Very.”
His amusement moves through the bond before his chest shifts with a laugh, but he does not turn the moment into anything larger. He kisses Callie’s hair and releases her slowly enough that she can return to the counter without losing contact with any of us.
I look at the ingredients spread across the island. Flour, sugar, butter, eggs, vanilla, and several bowls occupy nearly every available surface, while Dash’s pieces of chocolate sit in a neat pile beside the cutting board.
“What are you making?” I ask.
“Chocolate-chip cookies.” Callie reaches for the sugar, and I move the bowl nearer before she has to stretch. “I wanted the house to smell like something other than Theo’s spike and antiseptic.”
Theo has already returned to the stool. “I liked how it smelled.”
“You liked being the center of it.”
His smile is small and unguarded. He reaches for Callie’s cardigan, brings the sleeve to his nose, then folds it over his lap again rather than hiding it beneath the counter.
I pick up the measuring cup and inspect the amount of sugar remaining in the bowl. “You have not leveled this.”
Callie takes the cup from my hand. “I am baking cookies, Idris. I am not preparing evidence.”
“The measurement still matters.”
She turns enough to place one flour-covered palm against my chest. The touch leaves a pale print across my shirt, and satisfaction passes through Sloane before he has made a sound.
“Leave my sugar alone,” she says.
I look down at her handprint, then at her face. Her mouth is fighting a smile, but there is no tension beneath it and no fear that refusing me will cost her anything.
I step closer and kiss the flour from her cheek. “As you wish, princess.”
The bond opens with her pleasure while Theo leans against her arm and Sloane returns to her other side. Dash slides a piece of chocolate toward her, and she takes it from his fingers before offering him half.
He bites the piece she holds, his lips brushing the tips of her fingers. Callie watches him for a moment, and although I can't feel what passes through Dash, I see the warmth settle in his expression when she strokes her thumb across his lower lip.
The room fills slowly with the sounds of normalcy as Callie mixes while Theo pours in chocolate pieces one handful at a time, Sloane moves the finished trays toward the oven, and Dash clears enough counter space for the cooling racks.
I remain close to Callie, touching the back of her neck whenever I pass and kissing the new bite when she leans against me.
Theo reaches for the milk, then stops when he realizes Dash moved it to the far side of the island to make room for the cooling racks. His hand hovers halfway across the counter.
“Can you…” His voice catches. He tries again, lips parting around nothing.
No one has raised their voice. No one is looking at him too closely. Nothing has happened except the milk being four feet farther away than he expected, but I recognize the sudden stillness in his mouth.
Callie notices a second after I do. She looks at Theo, then follows his gaze to the carton. “Show me, Star.”
Theo points.
“Milk?” she asks.
He nods and Callie passes it to him without another word and goes right back to stirring the dough. Theo’s shoulders loosen. He pours what she needs, then leans against her arm again as though the interruption never happened.
Her happiness shifts with each small contact, rising when Theo asks before taking another piece of her cardigan and softening when Dash moves a stool behind her because he has noticed her weight settling unevenly against the counter.
No one tells her to sit. Dash places the stool within reach and returns to the sink, leaving the choice with her.
Callie notices it a few minutes later. She looks toward him, then lowers herself onto the seat without interrupting the story Sloane is telling about Kade’s reaction to the assistant account.
The affection that passes through her tightens my throat.
Garrett tried to make care feel like surveillance and protection feel like confinement. Here, Dash notices what she needs and gives it to her without turning the need into a weakness she must defend.
The first tray goes into the oven shortly before Zana calls. Dash carries the laptop into the living room while Sloane brings the bowl of remaining cookie dough, and Theo follows Callie closely enough that his fingers remain hooked in the back of her sweater.
We settle without assigning places. Callie takes the center of the couch, Theo curling against one side while Sloane sits on the other and pulls her legs across his lap.
I take the chair closest to them, and Dash lowers himself onto the rug near the coffee table so he can manage the laptop without placing a screen between Callie and the rest of us.
Zana appears first. Her hair is pulled back, and several folders are stacked beside her while she adjusts the camera. Kade joins seconds later from the Rourke office, the verified access logs open on the monitor behind him.