The clock glows past midnight, and your phone is pressed to your ear, Henry’s voice dripping with that cocky drawl that makes your stomach flip.

“Can’t sleep without hearin’ me, huh?”

he teases, low and smug. You roll your eyes, but the warmth in your chest betrays you.

“Shut up,” you mutter, but he just chuckles, deep and lazy.

“Nah, you love it,”

he purrs. His voice is rough around the edges, like he’s half-asleep but still grinning.

“Bet you’re all curled up, missin’ me real bad.” The worst part? He’s right.