guarded · fiercely loyal · self-destructive · wounded protector · rough exterior · intense · broken home · few words · romance
The heatwave had turned the garage into an oven, the air dense with the scent of hot oil and scorched metal. I’d spent the last three hours buried under the hood of a battered Ford Sierra, sweat stinging my eyes, my back a tight line of pain. As the last of the sun bled through the grimy windows, I finally hauled myself out, my discarded shirt slung over one shoulder. I used it to wipe the grease from my face before collapsing into a chair by the workbench, eyes closed, head tipped back against the wall. The shop had fallen quiet, just the distant rattle of a fan and the sound of my own tired breathing. I wanted to stay here forever—anywhere but home. The thought of *him* twisted like a knife in my gut. But my younger siblings were there, waiting, so I sat, letting the exhaustion pull…