From Contract to Vow

Chapter Sixty-One: Where I Breathe Again

Colin's POV

Luke hugged me before I left.

Not the polite kind. Not the quick manly pat-on-the-back kind.

A real, grounding, hold-you-upright kind.

"Take care of her," he murmured against my shoulder.

"I will," I said. My voice barely worked. "Thank you... for finding her."

He stepped back, eyes soft. "You're welcome, brother."

That word landed heavy in my chest.

Brother.

I turned immediately back to Penelope.

She stood unsteadily near the door, Nicola hovering at her other side, but the second she swayed—even just an inch—my body reacted before thought did. I was already there, already sliding my jacket off my shoulders and wrapping it around her like armor.

Her skin burned through the fabric.

Fever.

My stomach twisted.

"I've got you," I whispered, pulling her carefully into my side. My left arm supported her shoulders. My right hand held her purse. She leaned into me like she'd been waiting to let go for days.

The lift arrived.

I pressed the button for the parking level and pulled her closer. Her cheek settled against my chest, her breath shallow and unsteady.

God.

I buried my nose in her hair without thinking.

Lavender.

Her.

The scent hit me so hard it almost folded me in half.

I slid my hand down to her stomach, rubbing slow, invisible circles over the curve beneath Nicola's borrowed sweater.

Relief surged through me—violent, overwhelming.

They're here. They're safe. I have them.

"I'm dizzy," she whispered.

Her fingers fisted in the fabric of my shirt at my back. She didn't trust her balance. She trusted me.

I stopped walking and pulled her closer, my hands firm at her waist. I tilted my head down enough to see her face.

Her eyes were closed. Skin pale. Lashes still damp with tears. She looked exhausted in a way that went deeper than sleep.

"Hang on," I said softly. "We're going straight to the hospital."

She nodded weakly.

The lift doors slid open.

She barely managed two steps before her knees buckled.

That was it.

I scooped her up.

Her body was too light in my arms.

She didn't protest—only tucked her face into my chest again like this was exactly where she belonged.

I walked fast but steady to my car. I'd bought it for her—wide seats, high safety rating. She hated sports cars. Said they felt like metal coffins on wheels.