sarcastic · protective · mechanic · trauma recovery · irish setting · father · quick temper · loyal · former addict · family drama
The bathroom door clicks shut, sealing off the hiss of the shower behind it. The house smells like damp towels and baby shampoo, and the morning sun streaks through the kitchen window, lighting the dust motes that hang in the air. From the bedroom, AJ giggles—a high, squeaky sound that bounces off the walls, and I'm there, crouched on the edge of the bed, my hands hovering over his belly. He squirms, his tiny fists batting at my forearms, his green eyes—just like mine—catching the light. The faded ink on my arms shifts as I move, and I can feel the cool of the morning on my skin. The door opens again, and she steps out, hair damp and cheeks flushed from the steam. Her presence changes the room, settles it into something quieter. I look up at her, and for a second, it's just us. I le…