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ellswritings · 3 days ago

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In My Corner

(Part 9), Part 10, (Part 11)

Phil Brooks/CM Punk x reader

Colby Lopez/Seth Rollins x reader

TW: We get dangerously close to smut here lmao. Y/N gets very competitive. Other than that I think that’s it.

Tags: @reebs-luvs-rhodes-and-wrestling , @scream4mami , @mandmilovehim, @dummylovewp, @insomnia-bookworm, @mill7531

✧･ﾟ:*ᴵ’ᵐ ᵇᵉᵃᵘ ᵗᶦᶠᵘˡ (ꈍ ꒳ ꈍ✿)*:･ﾟ✧*

Staring at herself in the hotel bathroom mirror, Y/N wasn’t sure if what she was wearing was the right attire for the occasion. She didn’t know what the right amount of effort was for something like this. It was just coffee. But it’s who she’s having coffee with that’s making it feel nearly impossible to be pleased with how she looks. He won’t care what she wears. She knows that. But she didn’t want to show up and appear like she was trying too hard. But she also didn’t want to look as if she didn’t care.

This was an important moment. Their first one on one conversation, that’s civil anyways, and not on live television. She didn’t know how it was going to go. They could end up putting on a whole match in front of a bunch of unsuspecting patrons. Y/N sucks in a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment. It’s gonna be fine. It’s just coffee, she tells herself. It’s been a decade, if he has a problem with how she dresses when he’s the one who wants to talk, he can kick rocks.

With that, she walks out of the restroom, grabbing her purse and luggage. She didn’t want to tell anyone where she was going. Her hope was to be back before she and Colby had to catch their flight to Atlanta. They would be staying with the Runnels family for the week before she had to head to SmackDown. She knew Colby would still be sleeping. Their flight isn’t until two and it’s eight. He will most likely sleep until nine after the long night they had and then go to the gym. She had already gone earlier in the morning and got her workout in. It wasn’t easy to sleep when her mind was reeling with the possibilities of what could go wrong at this coffee shop.

Y/N had convinced herself it was better this way. It was better to keep it to herself. If she were to tell anyone, they would just get worried. There was no point in making something out of nothing. She could handle it. Phil had sent her the address to the place he picked without her even needing to ask. She just clicked the link and was on her way. It wasn’t too far from the hotel, but it wasn’t close enough that anyone else would end up walking in. It was perfect for what they were trying to do. The outside of the building was cozy but in a cute way. It reminded her of a place she would see at Hogsmeade in the Harry Potter franchise. It was whimsical in a down to earth way. She walked inside and she was met with a wall of freshly brewed coffee. The inside was just as nice as the outside. Different kinds of greenery line the walls, the color scheme very easy on the eyes. It made her posture relax instead of tense.

She takes a moment to soak in the atmosphere before turning to look around. It didn’t take long before she spotted him. A quiet little table next to a window on the emptier side of the shop. He had a comfortable hoodie on and a baseball cap that hung over his eyes. His hands are folded around his coffee cup, steam dancing upwards into the air. Her breath catches when she notices a cup sitting across from him in front of the seat she assumes is meant for her. She convinces herself not to run away and slowly walks towards the table. He doesn’t look up until she’s practically in front of the table. She grabs the chair, pulling it out for herself to take a seat.

“You came,” is the first thing he utters.

Y/N hangs her purse around the back of her seat, “You say that like you’re surprised.”

“Maybe I am,” Phil admits. “I kinda convinced myself that you’d change your mind. That you’d just hop on your plane. That’ve been easier.”

“Yeah, well, when have I ever done things the easy way?” She counters, her voice much softer than what he’s gotten used to. “Not really my style.”

He nods, the air still stiff around them. “I’m glad you decided to show.”

“We’ll see if you still feel that way when we’re done.” She reaches for the cup in front of her, taking a sip as the warm liquid cascades down her throat. She tries to hide her shock, but she knows Phil saw. He remembered exactly how she took her coffee. A latte with oat milk and lavender. Her staple. Maybe she shouldn’t be surprised that he remembered, but it caught her off guard that he cared enough to file away such a small detail. And seemingly never forgot it. “You still remember my order?” Y/N asks, putting her mug down.

He doesn’t directly answer her questions. Just shrugs, the corner of his lip twitching. “Didn’t think you’d want to waste time in line.”

Y/N pokes the inside of her cheek with her tongue, leaning back in her chair. “Right… Efficient.”

It’s clear both of them want to say something more. Years of pent up aggression and hurt simply boiling under the surface as they find a way to confront each other without causing a scene. Y/N’s fingers flex and release over her cup as they sit together quietly for another beat. Phil drums his fingers once on his cup before curling both hands around it again, his gaze flicking between her and the window. “You always did hate small talk,” he mutters, not quite teasing, not quite annoyed.

Y/N shrugs, bringing her cup up again. “Figured we didn’t have time for it. Not if we’re actually gonna say the things we’ve been avoiding.”

He huffs a breath through his nose. “Alright, then. Go ahead. Say it.”

She swallows. There’s a million things she wants to say, and all of them are tangled together in her chest. But one comes out first. “You left,” she says simply. “And you didn’t just leave the company, Phil. You didn’t just leave the toxicity Vince created. You left me. You didn’t say goodbye. You didn’t even text back.”

There’s a beat of silence. Then another. ��I didn’t think you’d want me to.”

Her jaw tightens. “Are you serious right now?”

Phil lifts his eyes to hers. “I thought you were mad. You were always loyal to the machine, even when it chewed you up and spat you out. I figured I’d just be another thing you learned to resent.”

“You didn’t even give me the chance,” she snaps, the words cutting out before she can stop them. “You didn’t give me the goddamn chance, Phil. You walked away and I—” She shakes her head, trying to steady her voice, but it’s too late. “I texted you. I called. I waited, like an idiot, thinking maybe you’d need time. But then weeks passed. Months. And then when a year rolled around, it finally hit me. You were never gonna reach out.”

Phil doesn’t say anything. He just watches her. He always had that look—like he was peeling you back layer by layer without ever lifting a finger. Y/N kept her hand curled around the cup, her thumb rubbing the edge absently as her gaze dropped. She didn’t speak for a few seconds, but the tension in her shoulders said everything. “I tried,” she murmured. “I really tried not to be angry. But you left. You just… left.”

He blinked slowly, barely reacting. “You could’ve followed.”

Her head snapped up. “Don’t put that on me.”

“I’m not putting it on you,” he said, holding her gaze. “I’m saying you had a choice.”

“Bullshit,” she bit out, louder than intended. A couple at a nearby table shifted uncomfortably. Y/N exhaled, lowering her voice again but not the edge in it. “You left without a word. You dropped your stupid pipe bomb, took off, and shut your phone off. You didn’t even say goodbye.”

“I was done,” he said, more controlled than defensive. “With everything. With the company. With the noise. I couldn’t breathe in that place anymore.”

“And what was I?” Her voice cracked slightly, and she hated that it did. “Just more noise?”

Phil’s jaw clenched. He looked away, one hand flexing on the table. “You weren’t supposed to be part of the exit,” he said, quieter now. “But I couldn’t find a way to say goodbye to you and still go through with it.”

Y/N scoffed, blinking rapidly. “So instead you ghosted me and just hoped I’d forget?”

“I thought it’d hurt less.”

“Well, it didn’t.” That confession lingered between them like fog. She looked down at her lap, then back at him. Her voice dropped to a raw whisper. “It felt like part of me left with you. Because you weren’t just some guy I slept with, Phil. You were my best friend. You knew everything about me. And the way you cut me off like I was disposable—it broke me.”

Phil’s expression faltered. For the first time, his bravado cracked. “I didn’t know,” he said. “I figured… you’d move on. You always did.”

“That’s the thing,” Y/N said, leaning forward, “I didn’t. I couldn’t. Not from that. Not from you. I didn’t even realize how much it fucked me up until years later.”

Silence hung thick around them. Phil cleared his throat, eyes dropping to his untouched coffee. “I never forgot you,” he muttered. Y/N couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “I tried to,” he said, finally looking at her again. “I tried to stay away. I tried to forget. April and I—hell, we even had a system. We didn’t say your name.”

Y/N blinked at that. “What?”

Phil smiled humorlessly. “She knew. April always knew I loved you. Even when we were trying to fix things, even when we pretended I didn’t. She knew.”

Y/N’s throat tightened. “You never said that to me.”

“You think I didn’t want to?” he snapped. “You think I didn’t rehearse it a thousand times and choke every time? You were always just out of reach. And I was always ten steps behind.” He looked away, the fire in his chest giving way to exhaustion. “We never worked out,” he said simply. “We tried. But we both knew I left part of myself somewhere else.”

Y/N stared at him, stunned. A beat passed before she spoke again. “I’m sorry to hear that,” she said, though she didn’t sound all that sorry.

“You don’t mean that.”

“No,” she admitted with a slight smirk behind her cup, “but I’m trying to be polite.”

Phil chuckled, shaking his head. They sat like that for a minute—old ghosts drifting between them. Then he shifted, leaning back in his chair “So,” he said, his voice measured now, “what does Colby think about you being here with me?”

Y/N froze just for a second. Then she brought her mug to her lips, sipping slowly, thoughtfully. Phil’s eyebrows lifted. “You didn’t tell him.”

She placed the mug down gently. “I didn’t want to worry him about something that could end up not meaning anything.”

A slow smile crept over Phil’s face. Not smug. Not cruel. Just knowing. “So you’re already keeping secrets.”

“Don’t read into it,” she warned.

“I don’t have to,” he replied easily. “Cracks start small.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “You always did think you were smarter than everyone.”

“Not smarter,” he said. “Just… familiar. I know you. Better than anyone else.”

He let that settle before leaning forward slightly, voice lower. “You know, if I had said something back then… if I hadn’t left… do you think we’d be here right now?”

Y/N opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Phil gave a small nod like he expected that. Then he leaned back again and shrugged. “Too late to rewrite it now,” he said. “But if there’s one thing I’ve learned—timing’s a bitch. Doesn’t mean the feeling goes away.”

He held her gaze, and for a moment, the room felt still. “Whatever this is,” he said, gesturing between them, “whatever it turns into—I’m not walking away again.” And that? That was the line that changed everything. Y/N didn’t answer. She just stares at him, the weight of that sentence sitting heavy between them. Her fingers trace lazy circles on the rim of her mug, eyes flitting down to the swirling remnants of her latte. It’s quiet. For once. Then Phil leans forward slightly, resting his forearms on the table. His voice is quieter now, less sharp, almost… curious.

“So… who are you now?” he asks. “I mean, besides the woman who just chewed me out so thoroughly I’m surprised I’m still sitting here.”

Y/N’s lips twitch. “You deserved worse.”

“Probably,” he admits, then tilts his head. “But I’m serious. I wanna know. Ten years is a long time. You’re not the same girl who used to steal my hoodies and punch dudes for staring at your fries.”

She lets out a quiet laugh, the memory catching her off guard. “God, I forgot about that.”

“I didn’t,” he says softly. “That was still one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen.”

She shakes her head with a smirk. “Yeah, well… I’m still stubborn. Still mouthy. Still get a little too emotionally involved when I shouldn’t. But I’ve changed too.” She pauses. “I had to.”

Phil doesn’t press. Just nods, eyes staying on her like he’s trying to memorize every version of her. “I saw you got a dog,” she says suddenly.

Phil’s brows lift. “Larry?”

She nods. “Yeah.”

There’s a beat. “Didn’t think you’d know about that.”

Y/N shrugs. “You didn’t call. Media was the only way I could keep up for a while. Until I realized I was mad and didn’t care.” Her tone is flippant, like a joke, but the barb lands anyway.

Phil winces. “Okay, fair. I deserved that.”

“You did.”

He huffs a small laugh into his coffee cup. “Larry’s great, by the way. Lives like a damn king. Sleeps with his head on a pillow like a person.”

“I always said you’d be the type to let a dog take over your whole life,” she teases.

Phil smirks. “He’s better company than most people I know.”

“Still doesn’t excuse you ghosting your actual best friend.”

“I know,” he says, and his voice dips into something raw. “I know it doesn’t.”

A moment passes. And that’s when Y/N leans forward just slightly. “So what specifically happened with you and April? I get it, she knew. But there has to be more to it than that.”

Phil shifts, fingers curling around the mug like he’s bracing for impact. “We made it work longer than we should’ve. She tried harder than I did.” Y/N doesn’t say anything—just watches him. Listens. Phil sighs. “She used to tell me I lived in the past. At first, I thought she meant the business… the travel, the chaos. But eventually, I realized she meant you.” Y/N blinks. Her brows raise, but he keeps going. “She never said your name,” he admits. “Never once accused me of anything. But I could feel it… every time you were brought up. Which wasn’t often. Usually just when the USA network was on and we forgot to change the channel or if we were watching a baseball game and you just happened to be there to throw the first pitch. But…when you were mentioned?”

He huffs out a humorless laugh. “She’d get quiet. Not mad. Just… resigned. Like she’d already decided she’d never be able to compete with you. And the shitty part?” He looks her dead in the eyes. “You weren’t even trying.” Y/N’s breath catches in her throat. “She didn’t hate you,” Phil says after a beat. “But she hated what you represented. That no matter how long we were together, there’d always be this... space between us that I never let her into. Because you used to live there.”

The words hit heavier than Y/N’s ready for. “I told myself it was nothing,” he continues, eyes fixed on the table now. “But I kept comparing things that didn’t need comparing. Little things. The way she said my name. The way she argued. I’d find myself thinking, ‘That’s not how you would’ve said it.’”

Y/N swallows thickly. “Phil…”

“I know it wasn’t fair to her. I tried to shut it down. To be present. But the problem is…” he looks up again, his voice lower now, almost unsure, “You left a mark I couldn’t scrub off, even when I wanted to.” The silence stretches again, but this time it feels heavier. More honest. Y/N doesn’t know what to say—so she sips her coffee instead, as if that’ll slow the thundering in her chest. Phil notices. “So… back to you and Colby.”

She glances up, surprised by the pivot. “What about him?”

Phil leans back. Too casual. Calculated. “How long’s that been a thing?”

Her brows lift at his tone. “A while.”

“That’s vague.”

Y/N tilts her head. “Why do you care?”

“I don’t,” he says too quickly. “Just curious what the expiration date is.”

She rolls her eyes. “Jesus, Phil.”

“I’m just saying—” he raises both hands in mock surrender— “He doesn't seem like your type.”

“And what is my type?”

Phil shrugs. “People who don’t need to be center stage to matter.” She glares, but he smirks. “Relax,” he adds. “It’s not like I’m wrong.”

Y/N glares at him but says nothing. Phil leans forward again, tone shifting. “I’m not saying I deserve anything. Or that I haven’t screwed up a thousand different ways. But if you think he’s gonna love you better than I did—you’re lying to yourself.” She blinks but he doesn’t blink back. There’s a long silence again, but this time it’s charged in a different way. “I’m not the same guy I was back then either,” Phil says. “But the way I felt about you? That hasn’t changed.”

Y/N’s pulse ticks faster. She opens her mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. So she looks down, masking her thoughts behind her mug again. “You always do that,” he says gently.

“What?”

“Hide behind something when you’re scared to say something real.”

She glances up through her lashes, irritation flaring. “You don’t know me anymore.”

“I don’t,” he agrees. “But I want to.”

She’s quiet. A breath leaves her lungs like it took something heavy with it. This meeting was by no means perfect. It wasn’t clean, and it most certainly wasn’t easy. But it was a start.

✧･ﾟ:*ᴵ’ᵐ ᵇᵉᵃᵘ ᵗᶦᶠᵘˡ (ꈍ ꒳ ꈍ✿)*:･ﾟ✧*

Y/N was lucky. She managed to get back to the hotel right as Colby finished up at the gym. He greeted her with a bright smile and a kiss on the cheek. He talked to her with such warmth that it made her feel slightly guilty for keeping her coffee with Phil a secret. She just didn’t want to make him upset. She knows how he feels about Phil. He would have just managed to convince her not to go. But she needed to. She needed to hear what he had to say.

He laced his hand through hers as they got out of their rental once they reached the airport. Spending a whole week in Atlanta is exactly what they needed. Time with friends, with each other. It was perfect. But maybe it also served as a distraction for Y/N. To mull over what was discussed, how she feels, what he said at the end. She wasn’t quite sure where that left them. What Phil was trying to say by openly admitting he still felt something for her. She didn’t know if she believed it. Maybe it was just residue after being that close in proximity after all these years. But something in his eyes told her that he meant it. And if there’s one thing about Phil Brooks that always stayed consistent, he’s not a liar.

The plane ride was peaceful. Both of them sharing Colby’s headphones as they drift in and out of consciousness. Y/N’s head naturally falls onto his shoulder, making the Visionary smile softly. It’s nice seeing her sleep like this. She’s always running faster than anyone could physically catch up with. He wasn’t even sure if she got more than four hours of sleep at one point in time. Arriving at the Hartsfield-Jackson airport went much smoother than at JFK. Y/N rubs the sleepiness out of her eyes, her heart fluttering as Colby goes out of his way to grab her carry on. “You don’t have to do that every time we go on a plane,” she says with a soft smile.

“Yes I do,” he insists. “It’s my job. And I like doing it.” He slings the strap of her bag over his shoulder with that same cocky grin he always wore after a good match. “Besides,” he adds, “what kind of man would I be if I let my girl lug her own bag?”

Y/N rolls her eyes, trying to focus, to lock in on the moment. “You do realize I could probably bench more than you, right?”

“I’ll let you try,” he teases, brushing his knuckles gently under her chin. “Later. When I’m not distracted by how cute you look in my hoodie.”

She laughs. Or tries to. It’s not that she doesn’t appreciate him. Colby was good. Really good. He always knew the right things to say, always knew how to make her feel seen, taken care of. He looked at her like she was the only woman in the world—and a part of her felt like she should be content with that. But the guilt settled heavy in her stomach like lead. Because while he’s looking at her like he’s in the middle of a fairytale… all she can think about is someone else’s eyes. Someone else’s words. That café table that suddenly doesn’t feel as far away as it should. She blinks, trying to push the thought down. Smile. Breathe. Be present. “Cody said they were parked in the short-term lot, so they’re probably already—”

“Y/N!”

A small voice cuts through the noise of the crowd like a bell. Y/N’s head whips up just in time to see Liberty bolting toward her, those bouncy little pigtails flying behind her as she breaks into a full run. Her pink glitter sneakers squeak against the floor. Y/N immediately crouches, arms wide and heart full. “There’s my girl!” she beams.

Liberty launches into her like a tiny missile, giggling as Y/N scoops her up and spins her around. “I missed you so, so, so much, Auntie Y/N!”

“I missed you more,” Y/N says, pressing a kiss to her temple and holding her a little tighter than necessary.

Colby steps up beside them, and Liberty’s eyes flick to him curiously. She tucks her head into Y/N’s neck, suddenly shy. Y/N smiles and adjusts the girl on her hip. “Hey, don’t hide! Liberty, this is Colby.” She lowers her voice like it’s a secret just between them. “He’s super cool, but don’t tell him I said that. His ego’s already huge.”

Colby lets out a mock gasp. “Wow. Betrayed already.”

Liberty giggles, peeking up at him with wide, inquisitive eyes. “She’s just shy,” Y/N says as she gently brushes Liberty’s hair out of her face. “She’ll warm up. Right, bug?”

Liberty nods bashfully, her cheek smushed against Y/N’s shoulder. Colby smiles—soft, genuine. There’s something about seeing her like this. So natural. So nurturing. He can’t help but imagine what it’d be like if this was theirs—if the kid was theirs. He shakes the thought before it goes too far, but his heart’s already too far ahead. They head toward the exit, and sure enough, Cody and Brandi are standing just beyond security, arms raised and waving. Cody’s in a backwards cap and hoodie, Brandi stylish as ever, holding her phone up like a paparazzi. “There’s the woman of the hour!” Cody calls out, grinning from ear to ear as they approach.

“About time!” Brandi adds. “I was two minutes away from texting where the hell are you in all caps.”

Y/N sets Liberty down just in time to be engulfed by Brandi’s hug. “You look amazing,” Brandi says, rocking her side to side. “Seriously. Like, stupid amazing.”

“You’re biased,” Y/N laughs, hugging her tighter. “But I missed you like crazy.”

Cody pulls her into a quick, one-armed hug next. “Glad you guys made it. The girls have been bouncing off the walls waiting for you.”

Y/N chuckles. “Hopefully not literally.”

Colby gets a handshake from Cody, one of those mutual-but-measured things—friendly, but still sizing each other up a bit. “Colby,” Cody says with a nod, “good to see you again, man.”

“You too,” Colby replies warmly. “Thanks for letting us crash your week.”

“Oh please,” Brandi says, waving it off. “We’re thrilled. We’ve got all kinds of stuff planned. Pool day, movie night, brunch reservations, maybe even a board game showdown. Hope you brought your A-game.”

“I always do,” Colby says, grinning.

Y/N smiles too, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. Because as Liberty grabs her hand again and tugs her toward the parking lot, and Colby gently slips his arm around her back… that damn coffee shop creeps back into her mind. Phil’s voice. That look in his eyes. I’m not the same guy I was back then either. But the way I felt about you? That hasn’t changed. Y/N clenches her jaw, willing herself to stop thinking about it. This week was supposed to be an escape. A breath. A break. But the thing about ghosts is… they don’t care about your vacation plans.

✧･ﾟ:*ᴵ’ᵐ ᵇᵉᵃᵘ ᵗᶦᶠᵘˡ (ꈍ ꒳ ꈍ✿)*:･ﾟ✧*

The warm Georgia air greeted them as they stepped out of the car. Cody’s place was just as picturesque as Y/N remembered—big front porch, string lights, that Southern charm Brandi loved so much. The second they walked inside, the scent of vanilla and fresh laundry wrapped around them like a welcome hug. “Make yourselves at home,” Cody said as he closed the door behind them. “You already know where everything is, but your room’s down the hall, last door on the right.”

“We put you guys in the guest room,” Brandi added, stepping in with Liberty perched on her hip. “You’ll have to share the bed if that’s okay.”

Colby barely flinched. “More than okay,” he grinned, shooting Y/N a look that made her chest tighten with anticipation. “We’re good at sharing.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the laugh that pushed through her lips. “Ignore him,” she told Brandi and Cody as they headed toward the hallway. “He’s incapable of saying normal people things.”

“I’m just honest,” Colby muttered behind her, voice dipping. “Besides... I only talk like that when I know I’m gonna back it up later.”

Y/N glanced over her shoulder at him, trying—and failing—not to grin. “You’re awful.”

“That’s a weird way of saying ‘sexy’ but I guess I’ll take it,” he shot back, low and smooth, eyes twinkling like he knew exactly what he was doing to her. Once they got into the guest room, Y/N kicked off her shoes, flopping down onto the bed with a dramatic sigh. Colby shut the door behind them and tossed his duffel on the chair, watching her with that lazy, warm gaze of his. “You sure you’re alright?” he asked, shrugging off his hoodie. “You’ve been kinda quiet since we left the airport.”

She nodded, sitting up slightly. “Yeah, just tired.”

Colby crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed, facing her. “Tired, huh?” he echoed, eyes narrowing slightly as if he didn’t quite believe her. He brushed her hair off her shoulder, fingers lingering. “Or is it your brain doing that overthinking thing again?”

Y/N sighed. “Little bit of both.”

“Mm,” he hummed, leaning closer, his hand now sliding down her arm with careful intention. “I could think of a few ways to help with both…”

His lips were brushing against the corner of her mouth before she could even tease him back. He kissed her slow—lazy and deep, like he had all the time in the world. She felt her body sink into his touch, the warm weight of his hands finding her hips and pulling her closer, like he knew exactly how to get her to unravel. “You always know how to distract me,” she murmured between kisses.

“Not a distraction, sweetheart,” he muttered into her skin, his lips grazing her jaw. “I’m a solution.”

She let out a laugh that turned into a breathy moan when his hand slipped under the hem of her shirt. “You’re worse than a teenage boy.”

He chuckled, nipping at her neck. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“You wear the title proudly.”

“As I should. You’re the best fuckin’ thing on any menu.” Before her retort could form, a knock came at the door. They both froze, Colby muttering a quiet, “You’ve gotta be kidding me,” against her collarbone.

“Hey,” Cody’s voice called from the other side, “we’re about to fire up the grill. You guys cool with barbecue?”

“Yeah!” Y/N called back quickly, trying to keep her voice even.

“As long as we’re allowed to help,” Colby added, smirking as he rested his forehead against hers.

“Sounds good!” Brandi chimed in. “See you two out there.”

As the footsteps faded down the hallway, Colby’s hand slid down her side again. “So... quickie and then brisket? Or brisket then quickie?”

Y/N laughed, shoving his chest gently. “Get up, you heathen.”

He grinned, rolling off the bed and pulling her up with him. “Whatever you say, baby. Just know I’m collecting interest on that later.”

✧･ﾟ:*ᴵ’ᵐ ᵇᵉᵃᵘ ᵗᶦᶠᵘˡ (ꈍ ꒳ ꈍ✿)*:･ﾟ✧*

The smell of grilled food drifted through the Georgia air like a promise—charcoal, spice, and something sweet in the marinade. Cody’s backyard stretched wide and familiar, bordered by a weather-worn fence and strung with lights that would start to glow the second dusk took hold. The playlist was a mellow shuffle of country ballads and classic rock, just scratchy enough to make you feel like someone put effort into it without trying too hard.

Colby and Cody stood by the grill, both armed with tongs like proud soldiers of summer, poking at ribs and laughing over something Y/N couldn’t hear from across the yard. Their easy camaraderie added a warmth to the evening that had nothing to do with the humidity. She smiled to herself, pushing her sunglasses up on her head as she turned her attention back to Liberty. The little girl was scaling the small playset in the corner of the yard with all the confidence of a mountain goat. “Alright, Lib, careful with that slide,” Y/N called out, holding her arms out automatically.

Liberty squealed as she launched herself down, colliding into Y/N’s lap like a bowling ball. “I win!” the toddler beamed.

Y/N let out a soft oof and gathered her up with ease, tickling her sides. “You always win, you little turd.”

Brandi chuckled from her spot on the picnic blanket, lemonade in hand, sunglasses perched on her nose. “You know she’s been asking for you nonstop. Like, borderline harassment level. ‘Is Auntie Y/N coming over today?’ ‘Can we call her?’ ‘Did she forget about me?’”

“I could never,” Y/N said dramatically, letting Liberty tumble into Brandi’s lap as she shifted to sit beside her. She dusted grass off her jeans. “Can you blame her, though? I’m obviously the most fun.”

Brandi raised a brow. “Modest too. Just a paragon of womanhood.” Y/N leaned back on her palms, glancing toward the grill. Cody was mock-fighting a flare-up, and Colby was laughing so hard he had to hand over the tongs. His face was open, eyes crinkled in that way that still caught her off guard sometimes. She didn’t say anything at first. Just watched him. Brandi did too. “Okay,” Brandi said after a beat. “Tell me what’s going on.”

Y/N blinked. “With what?”

Brandi gave her a pointed look. “Don’t play coy. With Colby. You’ve got that... mushy face. The ‘I think I accidentally fell for someone’ face.”

Y/N groaned, dragging a hand down her face. “God, is it that obvious?”

“It’s not a bad thing,” Brandi said. “I mean, he clearly adores you. The way he looks at you? Girl, that man would carry you out of a burning building with his bare hands.”

Y/N laughed, soft and a little embarrassed. “He’s… different. In a good way.”

“Different how?”

Y/N took a second before answering. “He’s easy to be around. He’s funny, but not like, always ‘on.’ He listens. He gets me. And when I start spiraling, he doesn’t try to fix me—he just stays. Which, weirdly, helps me fix myself faster.”

Brandi looked impressed. “That sounds like real grown-up love.”

“Yeah,” Y/N said, almost to herself. “I think it might be.”

Brandi sipped her lemonade, watching her with quiet affection. “So what’s with the storm cloud you’re trying to hide behind your smile?”

Y/N paused. She didn’t answer right away. Across the yard, Liberty had abandoned the slide and was now trying to pluck petals from Brandi’s flowerbeds. Cody pretended not to notice, shaking his head as Colby held up a sausage with dramatic flair. “I… had coffee with someone before we flew out here,” Y/N said, keeping her voice low, her fingers starting to pull at a loose thread in the knee of her jeans.

Brandi turned slightly, her body language shifting with immediate interest. “Okay. Who?”

Y/N hesitated. “Phil.”

Brandi’s eyebrows shot up. “Like… your Phil? Like CM Punk Phil?”

Y/N nodded once, jaw tight. Brandi leans forward, sucked into the drama, “When?”

“The morning after Raw. He had asked me for just ten minutes. Then this morning, he sent me a message—just an address. I almost didn’t go, but…” she trailed off, frowning. “There were things we never really said. I guess I wanted to say them.”

Brandi exhaled slowly. “Alright. So what happened?”

Y/N pulled her knees in toward her chest, arms wrapped loosely around them. “It wasn’t dramatic or anything. We sat. Talked. Caught up, kind of. It was calm. Actually… it was kind of peaceful.”

Brandi studied her. “And that’s it?”

Y/N looked down. “He said how he feels about me hasn’t really changed.”

There was a long silence. Brandi didn’t react right away—didn’t gasp or make a face. She just nodded, once. “And how did you feel hearing that?”

Y/N chewed her bottom lip. “Thrown, honestly. We’d had so many ugly endings, I thought all that was dead. But hearing him say that… it stirred something. Not feelings, exactly, just… memories. Guilt, maybe.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Brandi said gently.

“No,” Y/N agreed, but there wasn’t much conviction in it. “But I didn’t tell Colby either.”

Brandi’s head tilted. “Why not?”

“I didn’t want to hurt him,” Y/N said quickly. “Or make him question us. I thought if I just… had the conversation and moved on, then I could keep it all clean.”

“But now it doesn’t feel clean.”

Y/N nodded. “It feels like I’m holding something sharp behind my back.”

Brandi was quiet for a while, letting the weight of that settle between them. “You know, there’s a difference between protecting someone’s feelings and protecting your own comfort,” she said softly.

Y/N winced. “I know.”

“If it had been the other way around?” Brandi continued. “If Colby had coffee with an ex without telling you? Even if nothing happened?”

“I’d be pissed,” Y/N admitted. “But mostly because I’d feel like I wasn’t part of the full picture.”

Brandi offered a small smile. “Exactly.” They sat there, listening to Liberty giggle and the grill hiss and the cicadas start to chirp in the trees. “Do you think he’ll be upset?” Y/N asked finally.

“Probably,” Brandi said honestly. “But Colby’s a grown man. And he seems like the kind who values truth over comfort. You have something good—don’t risk it by keeping secrets.”

Across the yard, Colby was making his way over now, two plates in hand, one comically stacked with meat and one more balanced for her. He caught her eye and smiled, wide and warm and easy. Y/N smiled back—but her heart gave a quiet thud. Because she knew. Sooner or later, she’d have to stop holding the sharp thing behind her back. And hope it didn’t draw too much blood when she handed it over.

———————-

Colby’s POV

The sizzle of ribs hitting the hot grill filled the air with the kind of smoky scent that made Colby’s stomach rumble. Cody, sleeves pushed up and tongs in hand like a man on a mission, stood beside him with a beer dangling from his fingers, smirking like this was some sort of competitive event. “You keep poking that meat, it’s never gonna trust you again,” Colby teased, flipping a set of burgers with a flick of his wrist.

Cody snorted. “You sound like Brandi. She watches one episode of MasterChef and suddenly thinks I need grill therapy.”

Colby chuckled and took a swig from his own drink. The sun was still high but dipping lower now, casting warm gold across the yard. Kids' laughter rang out from the playset, and Liberty's tiny shriek of triumph cut through the air as she barreled into Y/N’s lap. Colby’s gaze drifted toward them automatically— toward her. Y/N sat in the grass, her legs crossed beneath her, grinning as she caught Liberty and spun her around. There was something about that image—sunlight in her hair, the softness in her eyes—it tugged at something in his chest he hadn’t quite figured out how to name yet. When her gaze flicked to him, he held it, just for a second, and sent her a wink.

The corner of her mouth tugged up, but something in the look didn’t quite match her smile. He shook it off. Cody noticed. “So,” he said, bumping Colby with his elbow. “How long you gonna pretend this is just casual?”

Colby didn’t look away from the grill. “What?”

“You heard me.” Cody plucked a sausage off the top rack and tossed it onto a plate like he was making a point. “You and Y/N. You’ve got that look. Like a teenager writing poetry in his head every time she walks by.”

Colby smirked. “Wow. That’s rich coming from Mr. Fireworks-Proposal.”

“Hey,” Cody said with a grin, “I earned my cheesiness. Years of groundwork.”

Colby didn’t answer right away. He flipped another burger, then leaned on the edge of the grill, staring out at the yard. At her. “It’s not casual,” he said finally, quieter now. “At least not for me.”

Cody glanced sideways, sensing the shift. “I’ve always kind of had a thing for her,” Colby admitted. “Even back then. After Punk left, and she joined the Shield? She was so… wrecked. She wouldn’t show it, not to most people. But we saw it. Me, Joe, Jon. None of us really knew her, not deeply, but it was obvious something in her had been gutted.” He paused, swallowing thickly. “She was this force, you know? Sharp and funny and stubborn as hell. And then all of a sudden she wasn’t. Just… quiet. Guarded. Like someone had flipped the switch off.”

Cody’s expression softened, eyes tracking to where Y/N now sat beside Brandi, brushing grass off her jeans. “We wanted to help,” Colby went on. “All of us. Maybe out of guilt. Maybe because she was suddenly shoved into a faction as a way to replace what she had with him. And even that couldn’t have been easy considering we were literally created to help him—” He stopped. Exhaled. “Anyway. Watching her like that… it hurt. And the more time passed, the more I started seeing her again. Little pieces of her would show up—smart-ass remarks, that look she gets when she knows she’s right. And somewhere in that mess, I caught myself… just looking at her.”

He laughed softly, more to himself than anything. “Even when we were on opposite sides of the ring after the whole chair shot betrayal, when she was gunning for me like I was the villain of her story… I still thought she was the most beautiful person I’d ever seen.” Cody stayed quiet, listening. “I don’t know when it turned into more,” Colby added. “Maybe it always was more, and I was too busy being an idiot to realize it. But I fell. Somewhere in the middle of all that time—between war and truce and everything in between—I fell for her.”

Cody let out a breath, nodding slowly. “Yeah. I can tell.”

Colby looked over. “You cool with it?”

Cody met his eyes. “Man, I’ve been protective of her since the day she kicked my ass in front of my dad. I’ve watched her go through hell more times than I can count. So, yeah, I take it seriously. But with you?” He clapped a hand on Colby’s shoulder. “I’ve never seen her this settled before. I think you’re good for her. I think she might actually let herself be happy with you.”

Colby’s throat tightened, a quiet sense of gratitude creeping in—but it was short-lived. Because his eyes flicked back toward Y/N, and that’s when he saw it. The smile she gave him wasn’t the same one she gave Liberty. Or Brandi. Or even herself. It was thin. Heavy. Her posture was off, just slightly hunched inward. She was picking at a blade of grass like it had offended her. Cody caught it too. His jaw tensed. “What’s up?” he asked.

Colby tore his gaze away. “I don’t know. She’s just been… weird. Since this morning.”

“What do you mean?”

“When we were getting ready to fly out. We left the hotel, and she looked tired. Said she didn’t sleep well, but…” He frowned. “She’s been saying that a lot recently. I don’t know. Something’s just been… off. Like she’s somewhere else in her head.”

Cody followed his gaze again, watching as Brandi leaned in and said something that made Y/N’s eyes drop. “You ask her about it?”

“Couple times. She brushes it off every time. Says she’s just tired. Jet lag. All that.”

Cody was quiet for a moment. Then he leaned in, voice low and steady. “You want my advice?”

“Always.”

“She doesn’t open up easy. Not about real stuff. You’ve probably figured that out by now. But if she’s carrying something, you can’t wait for her to hand it to you. You gotta make her feel safe putting it down.”

Colby looked over. “And how do I do that?”

“You don’t corner her,” Cody said. “Don’t press. Just… keep showing up. Again and again. Make space for the truth. She’s stubborn, but she’s not careless. If she hasn’t told you something, it’s not because she doesn’t trust you. It’s because she’s scared of what it’ll do to you.”

Colby’s jaw flexed. “Yeah. That sounds like her.”

“Just be steady,” Cody added. “She’ll come to you when she’s ready. And if she doesn’t?” He paused. “Then maybe she needs you to go to her anyway.”Colby nodded, his fingers tightening around the tongs. He didn’t know what it was she hadn’t told him yet. But he knew—felt—that it was there. And that it was already sitting between them, waiting to be named.

✧･ﾟ:*ᴵ’ᵐ ᵇᵉᵃᵘ ᵗᶦᶠᵘˡ (ꈍ ꒳ ꈍ✿)*:･ﾟ✧*

The night had settled in soft and slow. Liberty was half-asleep on Y/N’s shoulder, her little hand fisted in the collar of Y/N’s hoodie as they stood in the hallway. “C’mere, bug,” Brandi murmured, gently lifting her daughter with practiced ease. Liberty made a sleepy protest but didn’t wake. Brandi turned to Y/N, her voice quieter now. “Thank you. For being here. She loves you so much.”

“I love her too,” Y/N said softly, brushing Liberty’s hair off her face. “She’s the best part of my day.”

Cody gave Colby a light slap on the shoulder. “You did good today, man. Grill wasn’t even burnt, and the vibes were top tier.”

Colby grinned. “That’s what happens when you let me DJ.”

“Absolutely not,” Cody deadpanned. “Fleetwood Mac and Rage Against the Machine on the same playlist is criminal.”

Y/N laughed—tired, but genuine—and leaned into Colby’s side. “Night, guys.”

“Night,” Brandi echoed with a smile. “Sleep good, y’all.”

As they slipped into their guest room, everything turned quieter. Colby shut the door behind them with a soft click, and the sudden silence felt heavier than it should’ve. She peeled off her hoodie slowly, folding it neatly even though she never did that at home. He watched her from near the bed, not saying anything, just… watching. Like he didn’t know what to say or where to start. They each climbed under the covers at the same time—silent, still. The tension lingered between them like humidity before a storm.

And then—together simultaneously: “I—”

“Can we–”

They both stopped. Colby let out a quiet, awkward chuckle. “Okay. That’s not ominous at all.”

Y/N gave a tired smile. “You go.”

He didn’t move for a second. Then he sat up straighter against the headboard, rubbing his hand over his mouth. “Look,” he began, slower now. “I don’t wanna push, okay? I’m not trying to force anything out of you. But you’ve been off all day. Like, I look at you and you’re here—but you’re not here. You’ve been in your head so bad you probably don’t even know what we ate for dinner.” Y/N stayed quiet as Colby continued, voice soft but raw, “And I keep asking what’s wrong and you keep saying ‘I’m just tired,’ but babe—this isn’t tired. This is something else. And it’s freaking me out a little.”

She sighed, long and heavy, and sat up next to him, knees pulled to her chest beneath the blanket. She looked down at her hands. “Can I ask you something first?” she said. He nodded. She runs a hand over her face, “Promise you won’t get mad?”

That made his stomach twist. “I’m not promising that,” he said gently, but honestly. “But I will listen.”

She was quiet for a long beat. Then: “I had coffee with Phil.”

Colby’s whole body stilled. “…What?”

“This morning before we flew out here,” she said quickly. “He had come up to me after the show ended when you went to change. He asked me if I’d be willing to just give him ten minutes over coffee. I wasn’t even sure I was gonna go. But then he messaged me this morning after I went to the gym. Just sent me an address. I didn’t tell anyone. I just… went.”

He exhaled hard and sat forward, running both hands down his face like he needed to physically wipe the reaction off. “You went to see Phil,” he said flatly. “And you didn’t tell me.”

“I wasn’t trying to hide it, I—”

“Yes, you were,” he snapped. “Come on, Y/N. You know how I feel about that man. You didn’t tell me because you knew how I’d react.”

“Exactly!” she said. “That’s why I didn’t say anything! Because I didn’t want to make a big deal out of something that wasn’t.”

Colby looked at her, eyes narrowed. “You having coffee with the man who broke you into pieces isn’t a big deal?”

“It didn’t mean anything,” she said, voice rising with frustration. “It wasn’t some secret meeting. It was closure.”

He stood up from the bed, pacing across the room like he couldn’t sit still anymore. “God, I hate him,” he muttered. “You know that, right? I hate what he did to you. I hate the way he treated you like you were disposable. I hate that the second you start to move on, he just shows back up.”

Y/N stood too, fists clenched. “You think I don’t hate it? You think I haven’t spent the last nine years wishing I could just erase him from my memory? But I can’t. And it’s not about him. It’s about me trying to get rid of whatever pieces he left behind.”

Colby turned to her, his voice sharp now. “Did he say something to you?”

She looked down. His eyes darken, “Y/N.”

She exhaled. “He said how he feels about me hasn’t changed.”

Colby laughed, short and bitter. “Of course he did.”

“And I didn’t say anything back,” she added quickly. “I just needed to hear it. I needed him to answer the questions I’ve had for almost a decade. I needed to finally understand what he thought—why he left. And once I did? It was done.”

He stared at her for a long beat, jaw tight. “Then why didn’t you tell me?”

Her voice cracked. “Because I didn’t want to lose you.”

Colby’s voice softened—more confusion now than anger. “You really think that little of me?”

“No,” she said. “But I think that little of myself sometimes.” He blinked. “You think I want to be like this?” she went on, eyes glassy now, her breath coming fast. “You think I enjoy being a brick wall that shuts people out? I don’t. I hate it.” Her voice broke. “I don’t want to keep things to myself, Colby. I don’t want to feel like I’m surviving instead of living. But the one time I opened up to someone— he walked away. He walked away when I was at my most vulnerable. And ever since then, I’ve been terrified that if I open that door again, someone else I love will leave too.” Tears spilled over before she could stop them. She sniffed, trying to wipe them away angrily. “And now I’m crying, which just makes it worse, because it makes you feel bad, and you shouldn’t. You’re allowed to be mad. Don’t let this make you feel like you can’t be upset.”

Colby stared at her for half a second, then crossed the space between them and pulled her into his chest. “Shut up,” he murmured into her hair. She froze as he held her. “You’re crying. I’m still upset. Both can be true,” he whispered. “But that doesn’t mean I’m gonna let you stand here and hate yourself while I just… watch.” Her fingers gripped the back of his shirt like a lifeline. Her face was buried against him, sobs quiet but real. He held her tighter, rocking slightly, like if he kept still, they might both break. “I’m not mad you went to see him,” Colby said after a long pause. “I’m mad you didn’t tell me. Because that means I haven’t earned that part of you yet. And I thought I had.”

She pulled back just enough to look up at him. Her eyes were rimmed with red. “You have. You do. I’m just—” she shook her head—“I’m scared. I’m so damn scared.”

He cupped her face. “So am I.”

They stared at each other for a long moment before Colby guided them back to the bed. They climbed under the covers wordlessly, but he pulled her into his chest without hesitation. Her head rested over his heartbeat, her body curled around his like she was finally, finally letting herself fall. “I’ll work on it,” he said quietly. “The Phil thing. I won’t pretend to like it. I won’t ever like him. But if having that closure gives you peace, then I’ll deal—as long as you promise to tell me. No more hiding. No more ghosting in your own head.”

She nodded against his chest. “I promise.” He kissed the top of her head and exhaled like he’d been holding his breath all day. And for the first time that week, they both slept. Not perfectly. But together.

✧･ﾟ:*ᴵ’ᵐ ᵇᵉᵃᵘ ᵗᶦᶠᵘˡ (ꈍ ꒳ ꈍ✿)*:･ﾟ✧*

The roar of the crowd was still thrumming in Y/N’s ears as she tore through the corridor backstage, rage rolling off her in waves. Sweat clung to her spine beneath the worn leather of her jacket, her knuckles still burning from the final stiff shot she’d delivered in the ring minutes earlier. Another match. Another win. Another hollow ovation from a crowd that didn’t know she was running on fumes.

Three weeks. Three fucking weeks since Phil walked out—and she still hadn’t heard a word. No call. No text. No explanation. Not even a goddamn voicemail. Just... silence. She yanked at the tape on her wrists with jerky, angry fingers, leaving red marks as the adhesive peeled away. Her boots struck the concrete like hammers. Heads turned as she passed through catering—everyone pretending not to stare but failing miserably. Let them look. Let them whisper. None of them had the guts to say it to her face.

“Y/N,” a production assistant called out, barely able to keep pace beside her. “Vince wants to see you in his office.”

She didn’t stop walking. “Tell him I’m busy.”

The guy flinched but pushed ahead, nearly tripping over his own headset cord. “He said now. Not later. Now.” Her jaw clenched. Her fingers curled into fists. Of course he did. Of course the second she started getting traction on her own again, Vince would try to yank her into some half-assed plan to milk sympathy or bury her under a new storyline she didn’t want. She already knew what this was. She didn’t need it spelled out. Grumbling under her breath, she turned down the hallway toward gorilla, her blood hot beneath her skin, the tension knotting behind her eyes like a migraine waiting to explode.

She didn’t knock when she got to the door. She never did. “What do you—” The words died in her throat.

Three men stood inside. Joe Anoa’i. Colby Lopez. Jonathan Good… The Shield.

Her expression twisted in confusion as her gaze bounced from one to the next. All three were dressed in their usual gear—black tactical vests, combat boots, fists taped and ready for war—but their expressions matched hers: surprise, suspicion, and more than a little discomfort. “What the hell are they doing here?” she asked sharply, not bothering to mask her tone.

Vince didn’t even look up from his notes. “Take a seat.”

“No, I think I’ll stand.”

“Suit yourself,” he muttered, shuffling a few pages before finally glancing up at the room like a director prepping a final scene.

“I’m reconfiguring The Shield,” he said, as casually as if he were ordering lunch.

Colby was the first to speak—measured, cautious. “What does that mean?”

“It means I’m making an adjustment,” Vince replied. “Punk’s gone. Y/N’s not. We’re keeping this group relevant. Strong. And unpredictable. Last I checked, she was all three.”

Dean cocked his head. “So you're saying you want her runnin’ with us? No offense, sweetheart, but you don’t exactly fit our style.”

“None taken,” Y/N snapped. “Because I’m not interested either.”

“I’m not asking,” Vince said. “As of next week, Y/N’s in the faction.”

The room fell into a stunned silence. Joe blinked once, then stepped forward. “Vince, man, with all due respect, we’ve already got our rhythm. This isn’t just plug-and-play.”

“You’re not gonna change the whole dynamic,” Vince replied, gesturing vaguely. “You’re simply evolving.”

“Bullshit,” Y/N said immediately, venom coating the word. “This is about Phil.”

“It’s not,” he bit back.

She took a hard step forward, fire in her eyes. “He walked out on you. He walked out on this company. And now you’re trying to fix the mess by throwing me to the wolves so everyone forgets it happened.”

Vince leaned forward, voice sharp. “You’ve got fire. Edge. The crowd believes you. You’ve got pain you’re not using. I’m giving you the perfect place to channel it.”

“I’m not a storyline bandage. I’m not some dramatic substitution to keep your cash cow alive.”

“You are under contract.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You don’t own me.”

He stood now too, nose to nose with her. “If you want to keep wrestling in this company, you’ll be Shield. You’ll walk beside them, you’ll work with them, and you’ll play the game. Or you can walk just like your boy did.”

She didn’t even blink. “Go to hell.” And then she was gone—shoulders squared, jaw locked, slamming the door so hard behind her it rattled the picture frames. Vince exhaled through his nose and looked to the men. “She’s your responsibility now.”

Jonathan made a low, unimpressed sound. “Oh, fantastic.”

“Get her in line. Or don’t bother showing up next week.”

They ended up finding her eventually—tucked behind the far end of the loading docks, seated on a lonely production crate in the shadows where the travel trucks lined up. Her back was to them, hunched slightly, arms curled around herself, her phone lit up in one hand. She hadn’t heard them approach. Colby motioned for the others to hang back. They heard her voice before they saw her face.

“—You could’ve just said something,” she whispered into the phone. “Even just... ‘I need space.’ Anything.” Her voice wavered on the last syllable. “I defended you,” she said, quieter now. “To everyone. I stood by you. When they called you selfish. When they said you cracked. I was the one still there.”

Jonathan shifted, his arms crossing, expression unreadable. “I was there,” she repeated. “And now you’re not.” She let out a small, broken laugh, but there was nothing funny about it. “I still check my phone like an idiot. Every morning. Every show. Like maybe this time you’ll care enough to say something.” Silence stretched. She let it. Then—softly, almost to herself: “You said you loved me. Said we were a team. You said—” Her voice cracked mid-word. “—You said you’d never leave.” She hung up before the message ran out, her fingers trembling as she dropped the phone into her lap. And then she felt them. Her head whipped around, eyes wide, raw, and red-rimmed, already defensive. “What the hell do you want?”

Joe stepped forward slowly, hands out at his sides. “Take it easy.”

“Don’t tell me to take it easy.”

Jonathan gave a lopsided shrug. “Look, we just figured since we’re all contractually bonded now, we might as well find the ticking time bomb we’ve been assigned.”

Colby stepped into her line of sight. “We’re not here to crowd you. We just didn’t want you sitting out here alone.”

Y/N scoffed. “I’ve been alone since the second he left.”

“You think we don’t get that?” Joe asked, more gently this time. “We were brought in for him. Day one. We saw how much you mattered to each other—even if we weren’t close. That wasn’t fake. Not to us.”

Jonathan added, “You weren’t our enemy. Just a different fight.”

“We saw the fallout,” Colby said finally, voice steady. “And yeah, we’re not best friends. But we’re not blind either. You didn’t deserve to be collateral damage.”

Y/N didn’t speak. Her eyes stayed locked on the concrete. “We’re not asking you to pretend this doesn’t suck,” Joe said. “It does. And you don’t have to be okay with it.”

“But if we’re gonna survive this thing,” Jonathan added, “we can’t keep swinging at each other like it’s a steel cage match every time we breathe.”

Colby stepped closer. “You don’t have to trust us. But maybe... maybe let us carry some of the weight.”

Y/N blinked hard. She hated that her throat burned. Hated that it felt good—dangerously good—to hear someone say it wasn’t all on her. “I don’t want to be like this,” she said suddenly, voice rough. “You think I want to be some brick wall that shuts everyone out? I don’t. But the one time I opened up—completely, fully—he walked away. No warning. Just silence.” No one moved. No one looked away. She laughed, but it was hollow. “I’m not this bitter, angry person because I want to be. I’m like this because it hurts less than letting everyone know I’m bleeding.”

For a long moment, there was nothing but the distant whine of loading trucks and the hum of fluorescent lights overhead. Then Colby spoke, his voice quiet and deliberate. “Then bleed with us.” Y/N looked up at him. “You don’t have to fix it all tonight,” he added. “You don’t even have to like us. But if we’re going to walk into battle together, you deserve to know we won’t disappear on you.”

Joe nodded. “You don’t have to carry the weight alone anymore.”

Jonathan tilted his head. “Besides, pissed-off you might actually be the missing piece we didn’t know we needed.”

Her lips twitched despite herself. She wiped her face with the edge of her sleeve and exhaled, long and slow. “I’m not promising anything.”

“We didn’t ask for a promise,” Seth said. She stood slowly, pocketing her phone. “Then I guess we’ve got work to do.” And as she walked past them—raw, exhausted, but standing—they fell in behind her. Not as strangers. Not as saviors. But as something that, one day, might be called family.

✧･ﾟ:*ᴵ’ᵐ ᵇᵉᵃᵘ ᵗᶦᶠᵘˡ (ꈍ ꒳ ꈍ✿)*:･ﾟ✧*

The sunlight filtered in warm and golden through the gauzy curtains, casting soft patches of light across the guest room walls. It was still early—maybe not by normal standards, but early enough that the house hadn’t fully woken up yet, save for the faint sounds of cartoons coming from the living room. Colby lay on his side, half-covered by the sheets, watching her. Y/N was sitting at the edge of the bed, legs dangling off the side, slowly pulling her hair into a loose ponytail. The stretch of her back. The quiet rustle of fabric. The soft sound of her breath in the stillness. He couldn’t stop watching. She turned a little, feeling his eyes on her. “You’re staring.”

He didn’t bother denying it. “Yeah. I am.”

Y/N gave a small, tired smile. “Is it weird I didn’t sleep great?”

He sat up behind her, letting the sheet fall away. “Not weird. I didn’t either.”

There was a beat of silence. Not awkward—just full. Last night still lingered. The weight of honesty. The sting of hurt. But also the relief. The quiet understanding that somehow, despite everything, they were still here. Still trying. Colby reached forward and rested his chin on her shoulder, arms loosely circling her waist. She leaned back against his chest without thinking. “I meant what I said,” he murmured. “About not being mad. About wanting to understand.”

“I know,” she whispered.

“And I know it’s hard. Trust, I mean. I know what it cost you.”

Y/N closed her eyes. “Sometimes I wish I could just… turn it off. The fear. The second-guessing.”

He pressed a kiss to the curve of her neck, slow and grounding. “But then you wouldn’t be you.”

She laughed lightly, the sound colored with sleep. “So I’m just doomed to be emotionally constipated forever?”

“Hey, it’s kind of part of your charm.”

“Oh, great. That’s what I’ll put on my Instagram bio.”

Colby chuckled and tightened his hold around her middle, then rested his cheek against her shoulder. “You don’t have to change overnight. Just… keep letting me in, okay?”

She turned her head enough to meet his eyes. “I will.”

Another kiss, this one softer. A little longer. A little fuller. Then her stomach growled loudly between them. They both broke into laughter, and Y/N pulled away, rising to her feet. “Well,” she said, stretching, “guess I should go get dressed for the day.”

Colby flopped back onto the bed with a groan. “Can’t we just stay in here and pretend we’re still emotionally wrecked?”

She smirked over her shoulder. “You’re such a baby.”

“Only for you.”

Ten minutes later, he was still lying there when she walked out of the bathroom, drying her hands on a towel. Her hair was up now, sunglasses perched in it, skin still dewy from moisturizer. And then—then—he saw the swimsuit. Colby had been sitting on the edge of the bed, still shirtless, flipping through his messages when he looked up—and stopped cold. The phone slipped from his hand and landed face-down on the comforter. His breath caught in his throat. The swimsuit was deep green, a rich, almost-black emerald that made her skin glow. It was a one-piece but barely—cut high at the hips, cinched at the waist, dipping low in the front like it had been designed to test his self-control. The back was all skin. The straps sat thin and delicate over her shoulders like they could slide off with the slightest tug. She adjusted one of them absently, glancing up. “What?” Colby didn’t answer. She frowned, giving him a once-over. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

He stood slowly, eyes dragging over every inch of her with a hunger so quiet it stole the air from the room. “C’mere.”

“Colby—”

“Don’t play dumb,” he said softly. “You knew what you were doing when you put that on.”

Y/N crossed her arms, a shaky breath escaping before she could stop it. “It’s a swimsuit.”

“It’s a distraction, is what it is.” He closed the space between them in three slow steps, his body heat crashing into her like a wave. He didn’t touch her at first—just hovered close, head tilted slightly, like he was studying her. Then his fingers brushed her waist. Barely there. She swore she felt it in her knees. Colby dragged his hands up slowly—fingertips grazing over her sides, tracing the curve of her ribs, his thumbs pressing just beneath the swell of her breasts. “You’re unreal,” he murmured, voice hoarse. “Standing there like that, looking at me like this is just any other Tuesday morning.”

She didn’t know what to say. Couldn’t remember how to speak. One hand slid up, tracing the line of her throat with his knuckles. When his palm finally cupped her jaw, she leaned into it instinctively, breath hitching. “I’ve got half a mind to lock that door,” he said, tone low and sure, “and make you forget why you ever bothered getting dressed.”

Her whole body burned. He dipped his head, lips brushing the corner of her mouth—not kissing her yet, just teasing the edge of it. Testing. Her hands found his chest, fingers splaying over warm skin, grounding herself. “This isn’t very nice,” she whispered.

He chuckled, and the sound was dark, husky. “I haven’t even started.” When he kissed her, it was deep. Not rushed. Just full of slow-burning need, like he wanted to memorize her mouth. His hands gripped her hips, pulling her flush against him, and her body molded into his like they were made for this. For each other. She gasped when his mouth left hers, trailing kisses down her jaw, her neck. His teeth grazed the spot just beneath her ear and her legs damn near gave out. “Colby—” she breathed.

“Tell me to stop,” he said, voice rough, “or I swear I’m not letting you out of this room.” Y/N didn’t answer. Her fingers curled into the waistband of his sweats, heart pounding, breath shallow. She was seconds away from pulling him in. From giving in completely.

And then— “AUNTIE Y/N! YOU’RE TAKING FOREVER!” Liberty’s voice rang out down the hall like a bullet through glass. Colby groaned into her shoulder. “I hate that I love that kid.”

Y/N giggled, forehead pressed to his chest, trying to catch her breath. Her skin felt electric. “We’ll never make it out the door if you keep touching me like that.”

He pulled back enough to look at her, eyes still dark. “That’s kind of the idea.”

She kissed his cheek, then his lips—quick, teasing—before grabbing her cover-up off the chair. “Keep it together, Lopez,” she murmured as she walked away, not bothering to tie the cover-up closed. He watched her go, jaw clenched, fists balled loosely at his sides. Steam fogged the bathroom mirror. He hadn’t even touched her properly. And he already knew: he was screwed.

✧･ﾟ:*ᴵ’ᵐ ᵇᵉᵃᵘ ᵗᶦᶠᵘˡ (ꈍ ꒳ ꈍ✿)*:･ﾟ✧*

Steam curled lazily off the water like breath in the air. The heated pool was almost surreal against the chill of January, nestled in Cody and Brandi’s sprawling backyard like a hidden oasis. Trees stood bare behind the fence line, the sky pale blue and washed out by winter. But the pool shimmered— clear and inviting—and Liberty had been counting down to this day for weeks. Brandi had caved first. “She was so damn persistent,” she’d said, laughing as she adjusted Liberty’s goggles. “Told Cody she didn’t understand why people had pools they couldn’t use in the winter. Like, excuse me?” So Cody installed the warmers. Naturally. “It’s warm in the water,” Brandi added with a grin, “but get out and you’ll feel every inch of January slap you in the face.”

Y/N laughed, already chest-deep as she coaxed Liberty into her arms. “That’s what towels and cocoa are for.”

“Or bribing your aunt into carrying you like a sea slug from the water to the patio,” Brandi called to her daughter.

Liberty squealed, paddling toward Y/N with uncontained joy. “Auntie Y/N! You have to do the dolphin voice again!”

Y/N grinned, scooping her up. “Alright, alright—hold on tight, little barnacle.” She spun them both in a circle before dropping below the waterline and letting Liberty “ride” her across the shallow end like some kind of deranged aquatic pony. The five-year-old’s laughter filled the air, loud and bright. Cody watched from the pool steps, arms resting lazily on the ledge, a wide smile tugging at his lips. “You two suck,” he called out, teasing. “Unfair advantage. I’d kill for that kind of energy.”

Y/N surfaced with Liberty clinging to her back, both of them breathless. “That’s because you’re old, Cody.”

“Old?” he gasped, clutching his chest dramatically. “Excuse me—excuse me, ma’am. I will have you know I’m in the prime of my dad-bod era.”

Liberty giggled from behind Y/N’s shoulder. “Daddy says he’s ripped. Mommy says he’s full of it.”

Brandi cackled from her spot on the float. “She ain’t wrong.”

Y/N beamed, treading water. “You gonna take that, Rhodes?”

“I’ll take it if I get to toss someone into the pool. Come here, wiseass.”

Liberty squealed again and bolted off her aunt’s back, swimming away like a pro while Y/N floated back, feigning terror. “You wouldn’t dare,” she said, eyes narrowing. “I’m fragile. I’m delicate.”

“You’re full of crap.”

She was already laughing as he lunged forward, caught her mid-drift, and hoisted her up. “Cody, I swear to—”

“Too late!” With a heave, he launched her. She flew, twisting, shrieking midair before crashing into the water with a splash that sent waves lapping against the tile. Colby, sitting at the pool’s edge, wiped droplets off his face without looking away. She came up beaming, hair plastered to her cheeks, and he felt it again—that warm, low ache in his chest. He didn’t even realize he was smiling until Cody sat down beside him, shaking the water from his hands.

“You’re quiet,” Cody said.

Colby shrugged, eyes fixed on Y/N as she helped Liberty adjust her goggles again. “Not much to say.”

“Mhm.” Cody followed his gaze.

Colby chuckled, sheepish. “She’s just… kind of amazing, man.”

Cody’s smile softened. “Yeah. She really is.”

“She’s good with Liberty.”

“They’re thick as thieves. She’s been in Liberty’s life since before she was born—helped Brandi set up the nursery, coached me through midnight bottle panic, everything.”

Colby looked over. “You ever worry she’s doing too much? Giving too much of herself to everyone but herself?”

Cody exhaled. “All the time. But you can’t stop Y/N from loving people. She’s stubborn as hell. But when she loves you, it’s for good.”

Colby nodded, watching her now crouched at the pool’s edge as Liberty clung to her back, pretending to be a sea turtle this time. “Yeah. I know the feeling.” He slipped into the water without another word, swimming slowly toward her. She was laughing again, something loud and unfiltered as Liberty shouted, “You’re the BEST sea turtle ever!” Colby came up behind her, quiet, until she turned and smiled like the sun was hers to command. “You’re smirking,” she said, blinking at him.

“I can’t help it.”

“I’m covered in toddler, Colby.”

“Still the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

She rolled her eyes, cheeks flushing even as she tried to play it cool. “You’re ridiculous.”

He dipped in closer, voice low so only she could hear. “You have no idea the things I’ve thought about doing to you since you put that swimsuit on.” Her breath caught—and for a moment, she forgot Liberty was attached to her back. “Colby—”

“I’m being good,” he added, smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “For now.”

“You’re being risky.”

“Wouldn’t be me if I wasn’t.”

Y/N shoved water toward his face, laughing as he spluttered in mock offense. Liberty gasped. “No fighting in the pool!”

Y/N turned to her with mock seriousness. “Right. Pool rules.” Colby floated closer, brushing his knuckles against Y/N’s hip under the water, subtle but sure. “For the record,” he murmured, lips nearly brushing her ear, “I’m only behaving because she’s watching. The second we’re alone, all bets are off.” A shiver raced down her spine, her skin prickling even beneath the water. She didn’t have time to respond as Liberty pulled her under again.

✧･ﾟ:*ᴵ’ᵐ ᵇᵉᵃᵘ ᵗᶦᶠᵘˡ (ꈍ ꒳ ꈍ✿)*:･ﾟ✧*

The movie ended in a sleepy blur of credits and crumpled popcorn bags. Liberty was curled up like a content little burrito between Y/N and Brandi, her blanket tucked under her chin and orange juice sipped down to the last drop. The room glowed with soft lamplight, cozy and golden, the air filled with that familiar, happy tiredness that always came after too much laughter and just the right amount of sugar. Then Liberty stirred. “I got to pick the movie,” she announced dramatically, sitting up with all the flair of a tiny queen. “Now I pick the game.”

Brandi gave her daughter a weary side-eye. “That was not the deal.”

“It is now,” Liberty said sweetly, batting her lashes. “And I pick… Pictionary!”

A groan went up from Brandi immediately. Colby blinked. “We’re really doing the one with the drawing?”

Y/N smirked as she leaned forward, stretching her arms like she was about to enter a wrestling ring. “Yes. Yes we are.”

Colby turned toward her, skeptical. “You’re unusually hyped for this.”

Cody stood up with a big stretch and a creaky dad-sound. “Oh, buddy. You messed up big time.”

Colby furrowed his brows. “Why?”

Brandi pointed at Y/N. “Because she doesn’t lose.”

Colby laughed. “It’s a drawing game.”

Y/N turned her full body toward him with a gleam in her eye. “Say that again after the first round. I dare you.”

“She once made my cousin cry,” Brandi added. “Like actual tears. We had to pause Thanksgiving.”

“She drew a platypus with a blowhole!” Cody cut in. “And your cousin thought it was a dolphin!”

“Because he’s an idiot,” Y/N said sweetly. “Anyway, Liberty, I accept your challenge.”

“I wanna be on your team!” Liberty shouted, scrambling into Y/N’s lap.

Colby raised his hand like he was in school. “That feels unfair.”

“Then pick your own five-year-old,” Y/N shot back.

Cody planted his hands on his hips. “I’m callin’ dibs! Me and Y/N, we’re goin’ to war.”

Brandi groaned. “Absolutely not. You always go rogue when you’re on a team with her.”

“’Cause she’s the GOAT!”

“Can I get that in writing?” Y/N teased.

“Nope,” he pops the p. “Should’ve recorded it.”

Colby raised both hands. “Fine. Me and Brandi. We’re the real underdogs.”

Brandi rolled her eyes. “We’re naming our team ‘Please Let Liberty Go to Bed Soon.’”

Liberty gasped. “I’m not even tired!”

Brandi side-eyed her. “Sure you’re not, baby.”

The coffee table was moved, the whiteboard propped up between a stool and the ottoman, and a set of mismatched markers dumped in the center like colorful grenades. Colby knelt beside Brandi, cracking his knuckles like he was warming up for a cage match. Y/N was already bouncing, barefoot and giddy. Cody stood like he was holding a press conference, pulling the first card. “Alright,” he said with theatrical flair. “Team Bedtime Blues versus Team Dynasty and Destruction—round one!”

Brandi grabbed the marker and eyed the card. Her brows furrowed, lips pursed. “Okay, okay. I got this.”

The timer beeped. She drew fast: a long, swoopy shape, a couple of circles, squiggly things that might’ve been claws. Colby leaned in. “Uh… dinosaur?”

“Nope.”

“Dragon? Weasel? Gremlin?” He rapid fires until the timer runs out.

“It’s a damn raccoon, Colby!”

There was a long pause. Then a collective burst of cackling from the other team. “Where are the ears?” Y/N howled. “Why does it have six legs?”

“They’re in motion, okay?!”

“Looks like a gremlin with mange,” Cody said through a wheeze. “Babe, I love you, but that’s a crime.”

Brandi threw the marker. “You try drawing under pressure!”

“I will!” Y/N called. “Watch this.” Cody passed her the next card like it was sacred scripture. She glanced at it once and nodded confidently. “Timer?”

“Ready.”

She drew three strokes. One rectangle. One small circle. Two vertical lines. “Vending machine,” Cody said immediately.

“Boom.”

Colby stared, blinking. “Wait—what?”

“Snack window,” Cody said, pointing. “Coin slot. Genius.”

Brandi groaned into her hands. “Oh, God, it’s happening.”

“Elite,” Cody whispered.

Colby tilted his head at Y/N, narrowing his eyes. “That was suspiciously perfect.” Y/N leaned back on her heels, smiling wide. “Stay jealous.”

“You’re awfully cocky tonight, aren’t you?.”

“And yet you can’t stop looking at me,” she teased.

He didn’t respond. He didn’t have to. The way his jaw flexed said enough. Liberty’s turn came next. She stood up proudly, marker in hand, the card wobbling slightly in her grip. “Don’t help me. I got this.” She drew big and fast—two circles, a rectangle, a smiley face with a stick arm. “A cake?” Cody guessed.

“No.”

“A robot?”

“No!”

Y/N squinted. “Wait. Is that… a TV?”

“YESSS!” Liberty fist-pumped. “I told you I was good!”

Colby looked over at Brandi, incredulous. “We are getting annihilated by a five-year-old.”

“I want dessert,” Brandi muttered.

Then came Colby’s turn. “Colby, you’re up!” Cody called, tossing him the marker with a lisp-laced cackle. Colby caught it, but not before Y/N chimed in: “Try not to draw a crime against nature while you’re up there.”

“Oh, that’s rich coming from the human cheat code,” he shot back, walking to the board.

“I don’t cheat. I’m just good,” she said, stretching out like a panther on the carpet. “God-given talent.”

“God’s probably ashamed.”

“Not as ashamed as I am watching you draw.”

Cody let out a bark of laughter. “Jesus Christ.”

Colby glanced at the card, eyes narrowing. The second the timer beeped, he started furiously sketching. “Okay, okay…” he muttered, brow furrowed. It was… round. With what looked like noodles coming out of it.

“Spaghetti monster?” Cody guessed. Y/N squinted at the same time. Are those… legs?”

“No.”

“Is that a dog on fire?”

“It’s a damn octopus!”

Y/N stood, pointing furiously. “Octopuses have EIGHT limbs, dumbass, not SEVEN AND A SMILE.”

Colby whirled around, completely thrown off by her shouting. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me, Cthulhu! What is that abomination?!” Brandi’s shoulders shook from silent laughter while Cody legit rolled over on the floor, gripping his side. Colby couldn’t even be mad. Y/N was fully standing now, red-faced and fuming, hands on her hips like she was about to tear him in half for botching basic sea life anatomy. “You get paid millions of dollars to perform under pressure,” she continued, circling the whiteboard like a shark. “Yet here you are, drawing an octopus that looks like it came out of a toddler’s fever dream.”

“Oh, so now you’re judging marine biology?”

“I’m judging you, Lopez.”

Colby’s mouth twitched. Then curled. That smile again. That slow, shameless one. “You’re hot when you’re angry,” he murmured.

Y/N blinked. “Excuse me?”

He didn’t blink. Just leaned in a little and whispered, “Call me a dumbass again.”

“Shut up,” she hissed, flushed and thrown.

“Say it slower this time.”

Cody groaned from the couch. “Jesus, get a room!”

Liberty popped her head up sleepily. “What’s a dumbass?”

“NOTHING!” they all yelled at once. Y/N turned away, trying to hide her grin, brushing past Colby’s shoulder as she returned to her spot on the carpet. “You’re lucky I don’t disqualify you for that drawing,” she muttered.

“You’re lucky I don’t kiss you mid-game,” he replied under his breath.

Her eyes shot to his, cheeks pink. “Keep it up and I might throw the board at you,” she warned.

✧･ﾟ:*ᴵ’ᵐ ᵇᵉᵃᵘ ᵗᶦᶠᵘˡ (ꈍ ꒳ ꈍ✿)*:･ﾟ✧*

The game night chaos wound down in a sleepy blur of belly laughter and empty juice boxes. Liberty lay curled in Brandi’s lap, one chubby hand still holding the corner of a crumpled Pictionary card like it was a trophy. Brandi brushed a few curls off her daughter’s forehead and whispered, “Alright, game queen. Bedtime.”

“Noooo,” Liberty groaned, barely lifting her head.

“Yes,” Brandi chuckled softly, already lifting her in her arms. “Say goodnight.”

Liberty gave a bleary wave toward the room, whispering, “Nigh’night…”

Y/N leaned over to press a kiss to her cheek. “Sweet dreams, monster.” As Brandi headed toward the hallway with Liberty nestled against her shoulder, Cody looked over at Y/N with a shit-eating grin. “Hey,” he whispered, nudging her with his elbow. “You gonna draw me a Cthulhu for my birthday?”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “I hate you.”

He laughed through his teeth. “Love you too.”

Colby stood nearby, arms crossed, watching them with a quiet smile—until Cody bumped him on the way out too. “Good luck, champ,” he muttered low enough for only Colby to hear. “She’s feisty when she’s high on winning.”

Colby’s grin spread slow. “Yeah,” he murmured. “I can tell.” Y/N turned to him just as Cody disappeared down the hall. “You ready?” She asks.

Colby didn’t answer with words. The moment the bedroom door shut, Colby had her. One second she was reaching to turn the lamp on — the next, she was spun around, his chest against her back, his hands already up under her sweatshirt, hot and heavy on her stomach.

“Colby—”

“You have no idea what you’ve been doing to me all day.” His voice was already gone, all gravel and restraint. She turned in his arms just as he backed her into the bed, crashing their mouths together like he couldn’t wait another second. Y/N moaned into it, fingers in his hair, dragging his shirt over his head between kisses. He yanked her hoodie off with one hand, and they stumbled backward onto the mattress, mouths still moving, tangled in limbs and breath and hunger. Her thigh slid over his hip and he growled, low and real, hands gripping her ass like a man barely holding on.

“You wanna talk about being unfair?” he muttered, kissing down her neck. “Walking around all day, laughing, looking like a damn fantasy? Playing Pictionary like you were trying to make me hard?”

Y/N laughed breathlessly. “I was literally drawing stick figures—”

“Yeah, and I wanted to crawl under the table.” He mutters against her. She straddled his hips, flushed and breathless, pulling his belt open while his hands skated up her sides, thumbs brushing the underside of her bra. They kissed like they were trying to shut each other up. It got hotter by the second — grinding, panting, tongues dragging — her fingers slipping under the waistband of his boxers when he suddenly said it.

“I’ve been dreaming of this—of you—long before I had any right to.”

Y/N froze beneath him, breath caught in her throat. Colby didn’t try to take it back. Didn’t soften it. He just stayed there, bracing himself, like a man who knew he’d just stepped off a ledge and was waiting to see if the landing would kill him. “What does that even mean?” She asks softly.

“You weren’t mine,” he said, quieter. “Not when we started all this. Not when he left. Hell, not even now, technically.”

Her brows lifted. “Technically?”

Colby leaned on his elbow, eyes locked on hers. “Don’t play dumb, sweetheart. You know what this is. Maybe we haven’t put a label on it, but that doesn’t mean it’s nothing.”

She swallowed. “You always act like you’ve got it all figured out.”

“I don’t,” he admitted. “But I know how long I’ve been looking at you like this. Even when I wasn’t supposed to.”

“That was after he left.”

“After he left you, yeah. But even when you were pissed at the world and throwing chairs backstage like you were auditioning for Raw’s Strongest Woman, I still looked. You were grieving, and I had no business thinking about you like that. But I did.”

Y/N turned to fully face him now. Her voice was smaller. “You never said anything.”

“You were still stitched to him,” Colby said. “You had all these open wounds and I knew I couldn’t be the guy to fix them. But I could wait. And I did.” She stared at him. “And now,” he added, “you’re here. In bed with me. Sporting my hoodie that is now clear across the room. Laughing like that. Looking at me like this.”

Y/N shook her head, a soft smile breaking through. “You’re scary when you’re sincere.”

“Better than being cute when I’m desperate.”

“That too.”

They both chuckled, the tension softening at the edges. “Listen,” Colby said, voice dipping low again, “I don’t want to rush this. I don’t need to stamp my name on your chest and call it a day.”

“Oh my God.”

“But I need to know,” he went on, ignoring her teasing, “that I’m not the only one in this for real.”

She was quiet for a long moment. Then: “You’re not.” That was all she said. But it was everything he wanted to hear. He leaned over and kissed her — not desperate this time, just steady. Full of meaning. When they pulled back, she pressed her forehead to his. “Still not yours, though.”

Colby smiled, slow and certain. “No,” he said. “But you’re close. Real close.”

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