When Jesse finally stopped laughing, he stepped in to separate them, and Colby beat a hasty retreat. Damn horses. He knew there was a reason he didn’t like them.
After that, he was at a loss. There was no one to tell him what to do, or what not to do. He tried to keep himself busy, sweeping the house of the wolf hair that lurked in every corner. If VIPs were about to visit to check out Jesse’s Argent status, the place needed to be respectable.
Afterward, he picked a book at random from the shelves and carried it out to the porch. The late afternoon sun was warm on his face, but he was tense and unsettled. His wolf was calm, and he knew he should follow its example—he was safe and free. He just didn’t know what to do with either of those things.
He checked the time on his phone and felt the same, almost absurd pleasure he experienced every time he touched it.
He had no orders. No schedule. No one checking over his shoulder and waiting for him to fail. It was uncomfortable.
The back door creaked behind him, and a familiar backpack dropped with a soft thud. Colby looked up and saw Tristan’s smile—wide and warm, brighter than sunshine.
“Hey,” Tristan said.
Colby didn’t have time to answer because Tristan was already in his lap, knees bracketing his hips, mouth on his like he’d been thinking about it all day.
When they parted, Tristan leaned in, their foreheads resting together. “Miss me?”
Colby swallowed. His hands rested on Tristan’s hips, still scarcely able to believe this wasn’t a dream.
“Always,” he said, and it sounded like something sacred.
Tristan’s weight in his lap, his scent in Colby’s lungs, his smile like sunlight—Colby held onto him. Not because he had to, but because he wanted to.
Tristan’s eyes narrowed playfully. “Did you do laundry while I was gone?”
“...Maybe.”
“Did you fold the towels into weird little rolls again?”
“They weren’t weird. They were military standard.”
“They were weird.” Tristan kissed him again, grinning against his mouth. “You’re ridiculous,” he murmured. “But you’re my mate, and I wouldn’t change a damn thing.”
Colby huffed a soft laugh. “You might if that foal gave me fleas. Or lice. Or rabies—I’m not ruling anything out.” He seemed to have caught Tristan’s habit of dramatic escalation.
Tristan grinned wider. “Oh, nowthatis a story I have to hear.”
Colby smiled. Not just because of the conversation, or the sunshine, or Tristan’s warmth pressed against him—but because this was what safety felt like. It meant he could laugh. Argue. Fold towels however he wanted.
It meantthis.
And he wanted it. All of it. Every damn day.
Tristan kissed the tip of his nose. “I thought about you all through fluid dynamics today, by the way. Especially during the part where Professor Mendez started drawing vortices and I realized your hairabsolutelyfollows a logarithmic spiral when it gets damp.”
Colby blinked. “That sounds unlikely.”
“It’s not. I’ll show you the equation.”
“Please don’t.”
Tristan beamed. “Too late. I already saved a screenshot. Also, there was this bit about laminar flow and I started wondering how we could get Chaos to sit still long enough to test water resistance with her horns.”
Colby tipped his head back, laughing. “AndI’mthe weird one?”
“I’m visionary,” Tristan said. “Also, I missed you.AndI brought cupcakes.” He gestured toward his backpack like it held holy relics.
“Chocolate?”
