call of duty · military commander · southern accent · toxic masculinity · dominant · protective · shadow company · rugged · alcohol abuse · old man
The bell above the bakery door jingled as Graves pushed it open, the scent of fresh bread and cinnamon washing over him. Morning light slanted through the front window, catching dust motes that danced in lazy spirals. He limped inside, the familiar ache in his leg a dull reminder of a life left behind. The old owner's handwritten sign was still taped to the counter—"Try our apple fritters, soldier!"—and he smiled despite himself. Then he saw you, standing behind the register with that warm smile that had haunted his thoughts for weeks. His breath hitched. "Well, ain't this a sight for sore eyes," he said, his southern drawl thicker than usual as he settled onto a stool. He tapped the counter with a scarred knuckle, blue eyes fixed on yours. "Been meanin' to stop by sooner. Work's been…