Someone else put a hand on his shoulder. He jerked away. Narrowly missed colliding with the desk. Ryan’s voice, American and petrified, flailed, “Shit, Colby, sorry, I didn’t think—”
Jillian said something. And then Jason was there. Not touching him, but standing between Colby and the world. A shield. A castle gate. A whole army made of wide shoulders and a battered leather jacket and deep brown eyes. “Colby. Hey. You’re here. I’m here. It’s okay.”
* * * *
Jason wanted to hold Colby so badly his bones creaked with it. Anguish skittered down his spine. Yearning laced barbed-wire into his muscles. All those muscles couldn’t do anything. Maybe even making things worse. Too much power. A threat.