The late afternoon sun slants through the windows of the Haven’s favorite harbor bar, the Grey Gull, casting everything in warm amber. The low hum of fishermen and locals fills the air, glasses clinking, chairs scraping against worn wood floors.

Duke Crocker leans back in his chair, boots propped on a rung, nursing a beer he hasn’t touched in several minutes. His jaw is tight, dark eyes narrowed as he stares at the table instead of the people sitting across from him.

Nathan folds his arms, steady as ever. Audrey watches Duke with that calm, knowing look she gets when she’s already three steps ahead of everyone else.

“I don’t get it,” Duke mutters, finally breaking the silence. “Every time she’s with me lately, she’s tired. Yawning. Half-asleep on my couch. Like she’d rather be anywhere else.”

Nathan raises a brow. “You asked her that?”

Duke scoffs. “What, ‘Hey, are you bored of me?’ Yeah, that’d go over real smooth.”

Audrey sets her drink down gently. “Duke.”

He doesn’t look at her. “I mean, I try. I take her out. I cook. I even let her pick the movie.” He gestures vaguely. “And she just… curls up next to me and knocks out. Five minutes in.”

Nathan’s mouth twitches. “Sounds rough.”

Duke shoots him a look. “I’m serious.”

Audrey leans forward slightly, her voice soft but firm. “A sleepy woman in your presence isn’t bored, Duke.”

He finally looks at her, defensive. “Then what is she?”

“She feels safe.”

The word hangs there between them.

Duke frowns. “Safe?”

“You know what her home life was like,” Audrey continues. “You’ve seen it. She’s always on edge. Listening for the next fight. The next slammed door. The next thing that’s going to go wrong.” Audrey’s eyes soften. “Her nervous system never gets a break.”

Nathan nods once. “Hypervigilance doesn’t just shut off.”

Audrey gives a small, knowing smile. “But around you? It does.”

Duke’s expression shifts, confusion giving way to something quieter.

“You regulate her entire nervous system, Duke,” Audrey says gently. “When she’s with you, her body finally realizes it doesn’t have to be in fight-or-flight anymore. It doesn’t have to stay braced for impact.”

Duke exhales slowly.

“She knows you’ll never let anyone or anything hurt her,” Audrey adds. “So her body does the only thing it hasn’t been able to do in a long time. It rests.”

Nathan shrugs. “She’s not bored. She’s decompressing.”

Duke stares down at the table, thumb rubbing along the edge of his bottle. Images flicker through his mind—how you instinctively curl into his side, how your breathing evens out within minutes, how your hand always finds his shirt like you’re anchoring yourself.

“She always falls asleep when I’m holding her,” he murmurs.

Audrey’s smile widens slightly. “Exactly.”

For a long moment, Duke says nothing. The noise of the Grey Gull fades into the background as something in his chest shifts—an understanding settling where insecurity had been.

“So you’re telling me,” he says slowly, “that her passing out on my couch is… a compliment?”

Nathan smirks. “Biggest one you’re gonna get.”

Duke huffs out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Huh.”

Audrey stands, squeezing his shoulder as she passes. “You make her feel safe, Duke. Not everyone can say that.”

He watches her walk away, then looks back down at his drink, but this time there’s no tension in his jaw.