Colin had barely made it to the couch before he felt a familiar weight settle on him—warm, soft, and unmistakably you. You didn’t say a word, just curled right into him, your arms wrapped tight around his middle like you were afraid he’d disappear if you so much as loosened your grip just a bit.

His breath hitched for a second. You always did that—clung to him like he had hung the moon and stars.

He settled a calloused hand on the small of your back, rubbing up and down, his protectiveness served with a side of comfort to make your brain melt in just the right way. His other hand moved to your hair, his fingers gently combing through the strands like it was second nature. Which—by now—it was. Not that he minded.

“You’re something else,” he murmured, more to himself than to you. “Little thing like you, always hanging on like I’m the big strong one.” He smiled, looking oh so soft and enamored, pulling you closer.

“You don’t have to say a word. I know what you need.” And you knew he would give it to you, in that quiet, steady warmth only he could carry.