Page 129 of Lennox Lane

James asked practical questions about land ownership and developers. Amiyah asked about volunteers and whether Lane had partnerships with local schools. Lennox stayed mostly quiet, but Lane could feel his pride beside her like heat. After a while, Calla leaned back, one leg crossed elegantly over the other, eyes on Lane.

“You carry pain beautifully,” she said.

The room went quiet.

Lane’s body went still.

Lennox’s hand tightened on her knee once, then loosened as if reminding himself not to answer for her.

Lane swallowed. “I wish I didn’t most days.”

“I understand,” Calla’s voice softened. “It’s an observation. And maybe a warning.”

Lane held her gaze.

Calla didn’t look away.

“I can see the pain in your eyes,” she said. “And I can see the strength you’ve used to mask it. I recognize that because I was that woman before I fell in love with James and Amiyah.”

James’s face softened at her name on Calla’s tongue. Amiyah reached across the couch and rested a hand lightly on Calla’s thigh. The gesture was simple. Possessive without being performative. Tender without asking permission from the room. Calla covered Amiyah’s hand with hers.

“I thought control meant never needing anyone,” Calla continued. “I thought power meant staying untouched. Untouchable. I could command rooms, bodies, money, respect, and attention. I could make people kneel and still not know how to let someone hold me when I was tired. It was their love that ushered me into my soft era,” Calla said, glancing at James and Amiyah. “Not because they made me less powerful. They never asked that of me. They protected my softness until I understood it wasn’t weakness. It was a part of me I’d been guarding too hard to enjoy.”

Lane looked down, trying to mask the effect Calla’s words had on her spirit.

Calla’s voice lowered. “Softness with the right person is strength.”

The sentence moved slowly through Lane, finding places to land. Softness with the right person is strength. Not surrender as defeat or trust as foolishness. Rest wasn’t laziness, and love wasn’t a trap waiting to spring shut.

Lane wanted to believe that so badly it hurt. Her eyes shifted to Lennox. He was already looking at her with his heart on his sleeve. He was open and vulnerable. No smirk. No joke. No triumphant little gleam that said he’d brought her here to prove a point.

Lane inhaled. “I’m trying.”

Calla nodded once. “That’s enough for now.”

“Does it get easier?”

Amiyah smiled gently. “Not always. But it gets safer.”

James added, “And when it doesn’t feel safe, the right people adjust. They don’t punish you for flinching.”

Lane looked at Lennox again when his thumb brushed once over her knee. “I’m learning,” he said quietly.

Calla gave him a look. “You better.”

Lane laughed before she could stop it when Lennox sighed. “I knew this introduction was going to turn into me being told what to do.”

“You brought her to me,” Calla said.

James grinned. “She’s got you there.”

Amiyah lifted her glass. “To soft eras that continue to bloom.”

Lane lifted her water. “And to men providing them.”

“Amen,” James said.

Lennox leaned closer to Lane. “You enjoying yourself?”