Colin wrapped his arms around him, resting his chin on Joshua’s shoulder.
“I didn’t feel broken,” he whispered. “Not once.”
Joshua’s hands slid up his back, a warm, steady presence. “Good,” he said. “Because you’re not.”
Later, they curled up on the couch, mugs of chamomile tea in hand, socks tangled, the quiet hum of the dishwasher the only sound in the house.
Colin had changed into a hoodie and sweatpants. His court clothes hung neatly in the closet, ready for the next day. He looked relaxed for the first time in weeks—hair damp from a shower, eyes half-lidded with peace.
Joshua nudged him with his toe. “So… Jason has dubbed youDaddy Campbell, huh?”
Colin groaned, dragging a hand through his hair. “God. Please tell me that’s not going to stick.”
Joshua took a long, theatrical sip of his tea. “Oh, it’s already canon. I’m just deciding if I want it on a T-shirt or a coffee mug.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“Oh,wouldn’tI?”
Colin narrowed his eyes. “You know I have legal connections, right? I could file an injunction.”
Joshua snorted. “Try it, big guy. See how far it gets you inthishousehold.”
They both laughed and then fell into an easy silence. Colin reached for Joshua’s hand and twined their fingers together, thumb moving in slow circles against his skin.
“Thanks for loving me through all this nonsense,” he said softly.
Joshua squeezed his hand. “C’mon! Wasn’t that part of our vows? For richer or poorer, in nonsense and in gobbledygook?”
Colin snickered and leaned his head against Joshua’s shoulder, eyes closing, the warmth of home settling around him like a well-worn quilt.
“I think I’m back,” he whispered.
Joshua kissed the top of his head.
“My darling, you neverleft.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
THE DEEP END AND THE DOORWAY
The file in front of him read like a bad sitcom script.
“Suspect removed a Bluetooth speaker from its packaging and shoved it into her tote bag while loudly arguing with her boyfriend on speakerphone.”
Colin leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling. He could almost hear the tinny echo of the boyfriend’s voice across the Walmart electronics aisle. A Bluetooth speaker and a shoplifting rap. Misdemeanor, second offense. Small case. Big mess. Like most of them lately.
He closed the folder with a sigh and stared out the window. Across the office, voices buzzed—phones ringing, heels clicking on tile, papers shuffling with purpose. It was the same chaos he’d once thrived in, but now it just felt… shallow. Distant.
He’d learned a hell of a lot from these kinds of cases. Quick objections. Cross-exams that turned on a dime. Juries won over with ten-minute openings. Misdemeanor court had been a proving ground, and he’d fought his way through hundreds of cases—each one sharpening his instincts, his timing, his voice. It taught him how to read people, how to pivot when things fell apart, how to win on the fly. It made him fast. It made him dangerous.
But it didn’t make him feel whole anymore.
He was still serving justice—he knew that. But the pride he used to feel after a hard-won felony conviction didn’t come. Not with these cases. Not today. And he couldn’t help but wonder what that said about him… or about what he needed now to feel that same sense of fulfillment.
He flipped open the next folder. Public intoxication. The accused had tried to pee on a statue downtown and mumbled to the arresting officers that he was “marking his territory.”
Colin snorted out a soft laugh despite himself. “I’ve wanted to do the same thing myself a time or two.”
