Jamie felt Corin's body tense against him, heard the faint catch in his breath that signaled another emotional storm brewing.
Better to cut it off at the root.
"What are you thinking?" Jamie asked softly.
Corin didn't answer immediately, his face pressed against Jamie's shoulder. When he finally spoke, his voice was muffled. "I've always been too much. Too emotional. Too chaotic."
Jamie considered his words carefully. He'd known Corin for only a few days, yet he'd already witnessed the devastating power of the fae's projected emotions. But he'd also seen the person beneath the drama—vulnerable, genuine, desperate for connection.
"I don't think you're too much," Jamie said finally. "Different, maybe. Intense for sure. But not too much."
Corin pulled back slightly, his amber eyes searching Jamie's face for signs of insincerity. "You don't know. You haven't seen me at my worst."
"I doubt that would change my mind." The certainty in his own voice surprised Jamie.
He hadn't planned on getting involved in whatever complicated relationship existed between Corin and Azelon. Hell, he hadn't planned on getting involved with anyone in this strange new world. His focus should be on finding his brother, on getting home.
Yet here he was, holding Corin, trying to calm another emotional storm, and feeling an unexpected satisfaction in being able to provide that stability.
"You're good at this," Corin murmured, echoing Jamie's earlier thoughts. "Making the chaos quiet down."
"Natural talent, I guess."
Corin shifted against him. "How are you so calm about all of this? You're trapped in another world, your store is magical, and you've got two strangers with magical problems sleeping in your bed."
Jamie almost smiled. "One stranger. You're in my bed. Azelon's down the hall."
"You know what I mean."
He did know. And the truth was, Jamie didn't understand his own calm either. Shouldn't he be panicking? His brother was missing. His bookstore had been ripped from its foundation and planted in a magical wilderness. His entire life had been upended.
Yet here he was, holding a fae creature and thinking about how the amber of Corin's eyes caught even the faintest light.
"Distraction, maybe," Jamie admitted. "If I focus on helping you, I don't have to think about everything else."
Corin pulled back enough to look at him, features barely visible in the darkness. "Your brother."
"Daniel." Jamie's chest tightened at the name. "I know he's somewhere in this world, but I don't know where."
"I'm sorry." Corin's hand settled on Jamie's chest, warm through the thin fabric of his shirt. "Here I am, making everything about my emotional drama while you're worried about your family."
"It helps, actually." Jamie covered Corin's hand with his own. "Having something I can actually fix."
The words came out more honestly than he'd intended. That was the truth of it—Jamie had always been the fixer, the steady one who kept things running while others indulged their passions or chased their dreams.
Daniel had always been the adventurer, dragging Jamie into situations that required rescue. Their father had been the dreamer who left when dreams soured. Their mother had been the romantic who fell for promises that never materialized.
Jamie had been the one who stayed, who kept the lights on, who made sure there was food in the pantry and bills were paid on time.
And now, despite being lost in a magical world with no clear way home, he'd fallen right back into the same pattern.
Corin's fingers traced down Jamie's chest. "I guess that makes me fortunate."
The simple statement stirred something warm in Jamie's chest. When was the last time someone had appreciated his stability instead of taking it for granted?
The kiss they'd shared still lingered in his mind—the heat of it, the desperate need behind it, the way Corin had pressed against him as if trying to absorb his calm through physical contact. Jamie hadn't expected the intensity of his own response. Hadn't expected to want more.
But he did.
