Page 51 of The One Who Never Left: Colter

Then he looked down and the sleep was knocked right out of him because Sutton was curled against him, fast asleep, her body turned sideways so her head rested on his lap like it was a pillow. One arm was tucked beneath her cheek, the other draped loosely across his thigh, fingers slack with trust. Her hair had slipped free from its tie sometime in the night and spilled across his leg, silky and warm through the thin fabric of his scrub pants.

He couldn’t remember when that had happened. He remembered the long night in fragments: vitals steadying, alarms silenced, the two of them trading off watch in low voices, sharing stale coffee. He also remembered catching her stealing glances when she thought he wasn’t looking, which worked for him since he was stealing some right back.

At some point he must have dozed off and at some point, she must have decided he was solid enough to lean on. And that was all kinds of interesting because it meant, on some level, Sutton trusted him. He still had a long way to go, but the door had been cracked open.

Carefully, he shifted his hand enough to rest it near her shoulder without waking her. Her breathing stayed even, lashes dark against her cheeks, and mouth was parted just slightly like she was mid-thought in a dream.

His chest tightened with something that wasn’t desire or lust. It was deeper than that. It was the kind of feeling that made him go very still, afraid that moving might shatter it.

From recovery, a monitor beeped softly, reassuring him that Patches was still stable.

Colter exhaled, quiet as he could, and let himself have one more minute—just one—of this strange, fragile morning where everything was okay, and the woman sleeping on his lap felt less like an accident and more like a promise he wasn’t ready to name.

Only her eyelashes fluttered open. One minute, she was warm weight and soft breath and the quietest trust he’d ever been handed. The next, Sutton jolted upright with an edged inhale, disoriented eyes darting around the office before landing on him.

“Oh my God—” She scrambled, tried to sit up too fast, and nearly launched herself off the couch.

Colter caught her elbow on instinct, breaking her fall.

“Easy,” he said, like his pulse wasn’t actively trying to beat its way out of his chest.

She yanked her hand back as if she’d been burned. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t—I would never—” Her face went pink, then pinker. “I must’ve fallen asleep. I didn’t mean to—was I⁠—?”

“On my lap.” He shrugged like it hadn’t rewired his nervous system. “Yeah.”

Mortification crossed her face in real time. “I can’t believe I did that. That’s so unprofessional. I’m so embarrassed.”

He waved it off, forcing casual into his voice even though his body had cataloged every inch of her curled against him.

“Nothing to apologize for. And to be honest, I don’t even know how it happened,” he admitted. “One minute I was checking Patches’ vitals, the next I woke up and you were…there.” He tipped his chin toward his lap. “Figured it was my problem, not yours.”

That made her wince harder. “Colter.”

“What?” He softened, just a little. “It was actually kind of nice.”

“Nice?” she said cautiously.

“Yeah,” he said, quieter. “To know you trusted me enough to fall asleep like that.”

Something heated and charged settled between them, thick enough that he could almost hear it beat in tandem with his heart.

She cleared her throat, sitting straighter, smoothing her hair like it would help—it didn’t. “I swear I don’t make a habit of using people as furniture.”

“Funny, from where I’m sitting, it seems like you can’t stay away from me.”

Her eyes narrowed, but there was laughter there. “You’re the one who didn’t move.”

“Didn’t want to risk it,” he said easily. “You looked comfortable.”

“Sleep drunk is more like it.”

“Yet,” he added, eyes dropping briefly to where her head had been. “You chose my lap.”

Color climbed her cheeks again. “This never happened.”

“Sure, it did,” he said. “I just won’t tell anyone.”

She stood, pointing a warning finger at him. “You say one word⁠—”