Colin watched, bewildered, as Missy tore herself away from him and threw herself down on the sofa. Nothing was making any sense to him, but he wanted to understand. He knew his reputation preceded him, and that Missy wasn’t unfamiliar with the sort of man he’d often been labelled as. Heartless, uncaring, and a total dirtbag were some of the words that Ty alone had slung at him, not to mention the countless other people he’d fucked and forgotten around the world. Not that he’d ever been at risk of forgetting Ty, even if he’d once pretended to do so.
But above all, he was a big brother. And while his relationship with Missy was far from familial, that same protective streak coursed through him now. He was determined to help her, even if he had no clue where to start.
"Okay...” Colin said slowly, still not fully understanding. He lowered himself to her level, dropping into a crouch in front of her as he softened his tone. “So let me help you, okay? What would feel right, baby?”
Gently, he lifted a hand and allowed his fingers to trail along her knee, grazing the skin there until his palm settled flat against her thigh. He didn’t push it further, didn’t coax his way into her skirt the way he might usually, but he gave her bare flesh a soft squeeze. That could be something, right? It was familiar, chartered territory.
Colin nodded slowly along with her, absently shuffling closer as he tried to follow what she was saying. He let himself drop to his knees, kneeling between her thighs as she talked, his free hand lifting to wipe delicately at the tears that were spilling down her cheek. His thumb swiped at the excess mascara that was blackening her skin, before running the same hand down past her neck and along her arm. He might not fully understand the gravity of what was happening, but it seemed like touch – to some small degree – made a difference.
“Hey, hey. No, c’mon. Easy does it, sweetheart,” Colin whispered, fighting for his life to keep his voice even, calm.
As her hand had flown up to clap against her own face, he’d wanted to cry out, to yell at her to stop. He’d never seen Missy do anything like this, but it frightened him. His mind flashed with images of the two of them in bed, her hand closing around his wrist as she guided his own fingers around her neck. All those times he’d found it sexy, now he couldn’t help but wonder if she was punishing herself for some invisible, torturous crime that her mind had conjured up.
This time, his hand closed over her wrist instead as he pulled her hand into his own, drawing it up to his lips as he began pressing kisses into the palm of her hand. He trailed his lips along her wrist, to her forearm, before settling for nuzzling against the inside of her elbow.
“Hey, Miss? Look at me, okay? Look at me, focus on me,” he whispered softly, eyes lifting to meet hers. “The world isn’t ending, and you’re not hurting anybody, you haven’t ruined anything, nothing is broken...”
He couldn’t even begin to guess what benign instruction her mind had conjured up, nor what world-altering and earth-shattering consequence accompanied it, but he couldn’t sit back and let her keep thinking that way.
“I’m gonna join you on the couch, okay? And you’re gonna climb into my lap, and I’m gonna hold you. How’s that, honey?” he mused, eyeing her desperately before pressing another, deliberate kiss to the side of her shoulder.
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