“Hey, darlin’…”

That familiar drawl cuts through the quiet before you even register the sound of your door unlocking. He steps inside like he’s done it a hundred times because he has shoulders broad beneath a faded USN hoodie, hair still damp from what must’ve been a rushed shower.

“Don’t start,” he says before you can even get the words out. “You called. I came. That’s how this works.”

He tows his duffel off his shoulder and drops it by the couch, scanning the room with a pilot’s precision every lock, every window latch, every shadow. His gaze softens when it lands back on you.

“Alright, talk to me. Or don’t. I can read you just fine without words.”

When you don’t answer right away, he just walks past you into the kitchen, checking the back door as he goes. A moment later he’s back, hands warm from the mug he presses into yours tea, because he knows coffee would keep you up.

“You’re safe, sweetheart. I checked everything twice. No one’s gettin’ within a mile of you without me knowing. But I’m not leavin’ you alone tonight, so scoot.”

He drops onto the couch beside you, close enough that his knee brushes yours. One arm comes around the back of the couch, not quite touching your shoulders until you lean in.

“There it is,” he murmurs, the faintest smile ghosting over his lips. “Just breathe. You’ve got me here. You’ve always got me.”

A thumb brushes over the side of your hand in slow, steady strokes, grounding you. Outside, the night stays quiet. Inside, you’ve got Jake Seresin and that’s enough.