“My dad taught me woodworking. Summer weekends in his shop, mostly. He called it ‘therapy with splinters.’”
Graham chuckled. “Smart man.”
“Yeah.” Colin hesitated, eyes still on the grain. “He said there’s no faking level. If something’s crooked, you either fix it or live with the tilt.”
The silence that followed wasn’t awkward, just weighted. Graham stepped back and gave the cabinet a nudge. “You’re good at this.”
Colin grunted. “Wood doesn’t lie to you.”
Graham let it sit. “Courtroomdoes?”
Colin didn’t answer. Just sanded a little harder.
Graham nodded… knowing an answer when he heard one.
Later that day, Colin wiped the dust from the frame, slid the cabinet door into place, and tested the swing. Smooth. Silent. Perfect. But instead of satisfaction, all he felt was… numb. Behind him, his phone buzzed on the counter. A message from Norm:“Esther wants to know when you’re coming in.”He locked the screen without opening it and reached for his sander.
A half hour later, Joshua appeared in the doorway, arms folded loosely across his chest. “You know you’ve sanded that same corner about eight times now?”
Colin glanced over, not quite smiling. “Feels like the only thing Icansmooth out these days.”
Joshua crossed the room and leaned against the kitchen counter, close but not crowding. “Norm texted me. Esther’s asking when you’re gonna check in.” He nudged Colin’s shoulder almost playfully. “Clearly, their texts toyouaren’t getting through.” He arched his brows. “Phone on the fritz?”
Colin exhaled through his nose. “Honey…”
“You don’t have to go in today.” He leaned closer. “Or even tomorrow.”
Colin set the sander down, his hands braced on the edge of the cabinet. “I’m not sure what I’ll find when Idogo in. I don’t know who I am in that building anymore.”
Joshua reached out and rested his fingers on Colin’s wrist. “Then maybe don’t go looking for the old fire. Maybe look for the part of you that still wants to fight, even if it’s a quieter battle.” He leaned forward and kissed Colin’s hair. “It doesn’t have tobeGunfight at the OK Corralto matter. Sometimes, the small battles matter too.”
Colin met his gaze then—tired, grateful. “Still might sand this thing down to sawdust.”
Joshua’s smile was gentle. “That’s fine. I like watching you work.” He lifted Colin’s chin. “But, my darling? They’re good people, and they love you. I’m not trying to guilt you. I’m trying to tell you they’ll hear your ‘no’, they’ll respect it, and they’llstilllove you.” He stroked Colin’s cheek. “Give them a chance.”
Colin met his eyes in silence for a long time. Then he nodded. “I’ll go tomorrow.” His eyes snapped back to meet Joshua’s. “But, babe? I’m still not sure what’ll happen.”
Joshua’s head tilted back a bit. “Colin, I don’t give agood goddamnwhat happens! If the CAO no longer works for you… fine by me. If you find your peace sanding cupboards for a living… fine byme. If you want to sing Irish folk songs at McCafferty’s for a living, fine by me!” He caressed Colin’s cheek, then kissed him, then kissed him again. “I want one thing and one thing only: that you are happy and at peace. Whatever path leads tothat, fine by…” He soundlessly shrugged.
Colin couldn’t help but laugh. “Byyou, pretty boy?”
“Now you’re getting it, hot stuff.” He flipped Colin’s nose and wandered back to the living room.
Colin stood in the doorway,keys in hand, coat half-buttoned. The light through the front windows was pale, silvering the floorboards. He hadn’t worn this coat since the explosion. Joshua had cleaned it, but the faintest whiff of smoke still clung to the lining. He didn’t move. Not yet.
Behind him, Joshua came up quietly, coffee in one hand, the other resting lightly on Colin’s back. “You good?” he asked.
Colin’s fingers tightened around the keys. “I don’t know.”
Joshua didn’t answer. Just handed him the coffee—then leaned in, brushing a kiss just behind his ear. His hand came to rest on Colin’s shoulder, gentle, possessive.
“I love that office,” Colin said, his voice low. “I love the people in it. I love what it stands for. But I keep wondering if it still wants me. Or if it deserves someone stronger.”
“Someonestronger?” Joshua repeated, his voice filled with quiet disbelief. “They alreadyhavesomeone strong. Stronger than he’s everbeen.”
He let the silence stretch before continuing, voice soft but certain, his hand tight on Colin’s shoulder.
“You walked through fire, Colin. And somehow you came back with your heart still open—still strong. Your strength doesn’t come from muscle or grit. It comes from how much you care about doing the honorable thing. That’s the kind of strength that turns survival into victory. Justice doesn’tneedperfection, Colin. It needs someone who’s determined to do what’sright. That’s why they need you. Because that’s who you are. It’s alwaysbeenwho you are.”
