Page 21 of What We Don't Say: Part One

I hold the mug between both hands and let myself think past two o’clock for the first time all morning. “It’s the sister campus, not the main one, but their ethics track has been growing for two years. They want someone who can build interdisciplinary seminars, not just teach the same intro rotation. It would still be literature and ethics, but with more room to design the courses properly.”

“That sounds like the thing you complain universities claim to want until someone asks them to fund it.”

“They actually have funding.” My smile comes faster this time. “That’s the shocking part.”

Garrett listens while I tell him about the department, the students I’d be working with, the seminar model, the chair who sounded tired in the exact way people sound when they have been doing three jobs and finally got approval to hire help.

He asks about the commute, the teaching load, whether the offer is permanent or visiting, whether there is room to negotiatedays on campus. They’re all practical questions, but he's taking it seriously enough to inspect the parts that could break.

“You should consider it,” he says once I’ve run out of details I can pretend aren’t memorized. “Seriously, Callie. If Halston is offering something worth wanting, I don’t want you dismissing it because the timing is complicated.”

“With Theo arriving today, complicated feels like an understatement.”

“Then we don’t force the whole answer this morning.” Garrett folds his hands loosely around his mug. “After the first visit, we sit down with calendars and the actual offer. We look at what the next few weeks require instead of guessing. Theo’s arrival matters, but your work doesn’t become background noise because the pack is expanding.”

I watch him for the catch and don’t find one I can name. “One of my students would call postponing a decision its own decision.”

“The waistcoat one?”

“Marcus. Yes.” I smile into my tea, loving that Garrett remembers things at my work just like my other Alphas. It’s always the little things that my previous packs didn’t offer that make me feel safe. “He’d probably accuse us of dressing avoidance in responsible language.”

“He may have a point.”

“He usually does, which is why he’s unbearable.”

Garrett’s laugh is quiet as he flips another page. “Then let’s make sure this is postponement with a date attached, not avoidance. After Theo’s visit, Halston gets its own conversation.”

“Okay,” I say, and this time the word comes easily. I mean it when I say it. I can let Halston wait a few hours if waiting means someone will sit with me and treat the decision like it belongs to me.

Garrett grabs a smaller pack from the table and removes a folded guidance sheet, a contact card, and a white tube with a blue label. He places the paper on the table first, then the tube beside it. The movement is ordinary enough that I don’t tense until I read the words printed along the side.

Scent buffer.

Garrett notices my hand stilling around the mug. “Bellwether included it in the first-contact kit. It’s temporary, and it doesn’t cover your scent. It softens the first edge for a few hours so Theo has room to adjust when he walks in.”

I look at the tube instead of picking it up. “Because my scent is already everywhere.”

“Because this is your home,” Garrett says. He keeps his voice gentle, and I hate how much that helps. “That’s good, sweetheart. The house should smell like you. I don’t want you thinking you did something wrong if Theo freezes in the doorway.”

The thought has already been living somewhere under my ribs. Theo stepping inside, taking one breath, and locking up because of me. Because I made the room too much. Because I wanted him to feel welcome and accidentally crowded him before he had a chance to choose anything. The sheets say he likes pear, but maybe it’s notmypear.

Garrett turns the paper so I can see the instructions, but he doesn’t push it closer. “A new house can be a lot. New Alphas can be a lot. Sloane is close enough to pre-rut that his pheromones may be heavier than he realizes, and Idris will need to remember that assessing every breath Theo takes still feels like being assessed. I’m going to talk to them too. This is first-contact preparation for the whole pack.”

That makes it easier to breathe. I reach for the instruction sheet and scan the first few lines. “Wrists and throat?”

“If you decide to use it. Behind the ears too, but I’d start light. It wears off in a few hours, and if Theo seems comfortable, there’s no reason to reapply.” Garrett takes another sip of tea, giving me the space to read without staring at me. “You can leave it here, Callie. I’m giving you the option because I’d rather you have one than stand there blaming yourself for a reaction that may have nothing to do with you.”

The tube is small when I pick it up. Smooth plastic, printed label, no scent I can detect through the cap. It feels too ordinary to carry the weight my chest wants to put on it. “If it helps him, I don’t mind,” I say.

Garrett’s eyes come back to mine. “Only if it helps you too.”

I want that to be true. I want the buffer to be another kind of tea, another soft shirt chosen before a first meeting, another practical thing that proves we are all trying. I close my hand around the tube. “I’ll keep it with me and decide upstairs.”

“Good.” Garrett reaches over and squeezes my hand once before letting go. “That’s all I’m asking.”

From upstairs, something thumps, followed by Sloane’s laugh and Idris saying his name in a tone that makes my face heat. Garrett hears it too, because his mouth curves while he gathers the papers back into a neat stack.

“I should check on them,” I say, already standing.