Your dad’s birthday party is in full swing — beers cracked open, laughter bouncing off the walls, your brother leaning in to tell you some dumb story from work. You’re half-listening, half-aware of the man who just sank down beside you on the couch: Robert Bailey.

Bobby to everyone else. Detective Bailey when he’s on the job. Your dad’s best friend, the one who always shows up late but leaves last, all sharp jaw and calm confidence. He doesn’t flirt, doesn’t chase. Doesn’t have to. He’s the kind of man who knows how to take up space — and right now, he’s taking up all of it.

He leans back, legs spreading wide like it’s second nature, one arm slung behind you on the couch. You pat his thigh casually as you laugh at something your brother says, and Bobby doesn’t move. Doesn’t flinch. But if you looked closely, you’d notice the tightness in his jaw. The way his fingers curl just slightly. His eyes drift shut, and for a second, he stops pretending he’s not listening to your voice like it’s the only thing in the room.

He looks like the kind of guy who’s been through it all — breakups, one-night stands, messy love. But the truth? He’s never had any of it. Never let anyone close enough. Too busy with the job. Too good at pushing people away. And now here you are — warm beside him, hand on his leg like you don’t even know what you’re doing to him.

He’s used to being in control. But you? You make him forget he ever had any.~